A bitter wind whipped through Ginny as she tied multicoloured Christmas lights above the door and windows of Harbour Light Café. It was about time she made the place look festive, as all the other shops along Harbour End Road had already decorated for the season.
‘Oh, goodness, really!’ she mumbled, as the wire slipped from her hand.
The ladder wobbled as a van sped by, splashing spits of slushy snow up from the gutter.
‘Oi!’ yelled Ginny. ‘Slow down.’
‘Need a hand?’ asked Samuel, picking up the fallen lights.
‘That’s the third time I’ve dropped that.’ She thanked him as he raised his arm her way.
Ginny secured the lights in place, then climbed down to stand back and take in her lopsided job.
Samuel pointed to her left. ‘It just needs pulling up a touch that end. Here, let me.’
Before she could respond, he was sorting the matter, and to be fair, he was much better at the task. At least he had more patience.
Councillor Seabridge approached. ‘About time, Ginny. For a minute there I thought you were going to let the street down.’
She narrowed her eyes at his greying bushy eyebrows, not one bit in the mood for his comments.
‘We win awards, you know,’ he added, the boom in his voice rattling her eardrums.
Ginny folded her arms. ‘It’s the first of December, Oliver. I wouldn’t say I’m late to the party.’
His beady blue eyes sparkled as Samuel switched on the lights. ‘Ooh, speaking of which. Don’t forget we have the tree lighting ceremony on Saturday.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Seeing how it was on the first Saturday in December every year, it was hard for her to forget, but she couldn’t be bothered to say.
‘Good, good. See you there.’ He waved a hand to Samuel. ‘You too, Mr Powell.’
Samuel gave him a quick salute, then grinned at Ginny.
Councillor Seabridge made his way towards the pub, and Ginny invited Samuel inside the café.
‘I’ll make you a cuppa.’
‘Yes, then we can talk business.’
She watched him take a seat at the table nearest the large shiny coffee machine as she went about making the tea.
‘I’m pleased you called me here for a meeting about the café. I know I’ve mentioned using it in the past, but I didn’t think you’d ever agree,’ he added.
‘I’m not really sure how this food bank café thing is going to work.’
‘Basically, anyone in need of food will be able to come in here between half four and half six and eat for free two evenings a week. I’m going to send one of my chefs over to assess your kitchen, as he’ll like to see what’s available for him.’
Ginny joined him at the table. ‘Will I be expected to work?’
Samuel shook his head. ‘No. But you can if you want. I normally have one paid member of staff, and the rest are volunteers. So feel free to fit in a shift if you can.’
‘But won’t I have to come back to lock up each evening?’
Samuel shook his head, and Ginny had no idea why she asked that question. After all, it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go now that her mother’s ashes were being prepared to be sent directly to Lee, as requested.
Peaceful Cremation Services had handled everything, from collecting Birdy’s body to the unattended cremation, and even promised to deliver the ashes within two weeks. Ginny wanted to hold a small memorial, but Birdy had already made the arrangements for her own send-off, and it didn’t include sausage rolls in the church hall.
Lee told Ginny he’d wait till springtime, then take a trip on the ferry to France, and they could secretly sprinkle her ashes into the English Channel, also Birdy’s request, as that was where she’d met Lee’s dad, the so-called love of her life.
