Chapter 1
Will
‘I don’t like pilchards myself,’ Will told the kitten outside his grandmother’s cottage. He used a booted foot to gently nudge away the empty tin the black furball was licking before retrieving and tossing it into the recycling bin.
The smallest of whines scolded him before the skinny thing scarpered into a bush.
Will chuckled to himself but dropped his smile as he faced the light-oak front door. He inhaled deeply as he knocked and rubbed his hands together to help alleviate his nerves, rather than warm them from the October nip in the air. With another steadying breath he ran his hands through his mousey hair.
He’d felt awkward when joining the Royal Navy at eighteen, too. He liked to think he had more social skills now he was forty-two, but what he was presently undertaking rattled more parts of him than any warship ever could.
The forty-year-old woman who answered the door greeted him with a cheery smile and happy green eyes. ‘Hello, Willard Pendleton. Wasn’t sure you’d be back again.’
He gently tipped his head. ‘Said I would, Marie.’
‘Well, you’re in luck today. Come inside. It’s a bit fresh out there. Although I guess you sailors are used to the wind in your face.’
‘I retired from the navy two years ago,’ he said with a smile, following her along the narrow hallway to the kitchen at the end.
‘I’ll pop the kettle on, then take you through. She’s just watching her favourite gardening show.’
‘How’s she been?’
‘Oh, good and bad days. The care home called. She moves in next week.’
Will sat at the small wooden table, resting his arms on top. ‘What can I do to help?’ He glanced around at the chipped cupboards and floral crockery on show. ‘I can pack and transport.’
Marie looked over her shoulder. ‘She can’t take everything with her. Just a few personal bits.’
Will frowned. ‘But what about her stuff?’
‘You can sort that this week. Charity, second-hand shops, dustbin. I know it’s a shame, but it is what it is. The person who bought the cottage is due to move in here a couple of weeks after Babs moves out, so we don’t have much time to shift the lot.’
How sad was that? Will didn’t own a lot himself, but even he felt a slight attachment to what he did have. How would Babs feel leaving so much behind? He was gutted on her behalf.
Marie sat opposite him, showing compassion in her gaze. ‘She’s lucky she has you now.’
Lowering his head, Will sighed. ‘We don’t know each other.’
‘But you’re here now. That’s all that matters, and she’s lucid today, so go say hello, and let’s see if we can get you some answers this time.’
Marie was good at her job. A great care worker. He’d picked up on that on his first visit to this snug cottage in Port Berry.
Will stood, gazing towards the square window, taking in the view of the quiet backstreet not far from the harbour. ‘Feels weird knowing this is where I came from.’
‘Cornwall isn’t too far from Wales. Give us time, we’ll change that accent of yours to Cornish in no time.’
‘Ah, it’s not that strong anyway.’ His smile faded as he entered the small living room. His grandmother sat upright in a beige wingback chair, cuddling a cream blanket.
Soft features diverted from the television and gazed his way. ‘Ooh, hello, young man. And who might you be?’
Marie handed her a teacup half-filled with apple juice, then turned down the volume on the TV. ‘It’s Willard. He’s been to visit you before.’
Babs frowned. Her dark eyes, so like his, homing in on him. ‘I don’t remember.’
Will sat on the sofa to her side and smiled warmly, unsure what to say. He’d only met her four times, and each time felt the same. He was so glad Marie was around to help. At least Babs looked alert and somewhat peaceful today.
Marie passed him a mug of tea as she plonked herself at the other end of the sofa. ‘Willard here used to be in the navy.’
