Page 4 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay

As she walked down the hill later that morning, Peggy admitted to herself that Lindy McDonald had sounded a little intimidating when Ted first filled her in with what he knew about her prospective employer. Lindy had seen Peggy’s ad on the board in the post office and got in touch about Ada.

Lindy, Ted said, had been high up in a huge multinational, in charge of digital marketing, retiring, so local gossip went, with a stonkingly good pension.

She was also beautiful– Peggy had seen her about the village.

Small and rounded, Lindy always dressed with flair in bright, expensive fashion– pinks, sea-greens and yellows, which somehow matched perfectly with her figure– her look finished off with a messy pure-white bob, very light blue eyes and a remarkably unlined face.

She had the energy of two people, despite being in her late sixties, which put Peggy to shame in her rather selfish retirement slump.

When she met Lindy in person for the first time, though, she’d been instantly charmed by the warmth and humour in the woman’s eyes.

She didn’t seem even remotely scary or corporate.

A bit like Ted , Peggy thought, one of life’s enthusiasts .

Which, considering Gordon, Lindy’s husband of many decades, had died less than two years before, seemed even more admirable.

The two women had connected over a shared love of books.

‘Right,’ Lindy had said, purposefully but with a twinkle in her eye, after Ada had scooted upstairs at the end of that day’s lesson.

She’d rummaged around under a pile of glossy magazines on the kitchen table, picked up a paperback and slapped it down in front of Peggy as she stood, ready to leave.

‘You’re an English teacher,’ Lindy had said, ‘So you must love reading.’ It wasn’t really a question, and she was clearly not expecting a reply as she went on, ‘Well, this is the most extraordinary book. Had my hair standing on end. You have to read it immediately because I’m dying to discuss it with someone. And nobody round here reads like I do.’

Peggy, slightly taken aback, had laughed.

‘Thanks. I’ll get on to it straight away,’ she’d promised, tucking the book into her bag without more than a glance at the cover.

She felt quite excited. To have someone so openly passionate about a book was music to her ears.

As she said goodbye, she hoped Lindy was shaping up to be more than just an employer.

She had begun to look forward to the time after she’d finished Ada’s lesson, when she and Lindy would sit at the kitchen table with a cuppa and talk about their latest read.

Lindy lived in a large lilac-painted house– named, with admirable originality, Lilac House– on the sea road, overlooking the bay.

It had been in Gordon’s family for decades, the family using it as a holiday home until Lindy and Gordon had retired there more than ten years ago– influenced by Gordon’s increasing ill health.

It was a beautiful place, much admired and photographed by passing tourists.

Georgian in style, symmetrical and restrained, it was fronted by a paved terrace garden raised above the road, where Lindy and her late husband had arrayed pots, low hedges and benches in an attractive Italianate style.

It had been built by a harbour master in the early nineteenth century, the exterior hardly changed since then.

Lindy had taken in her daughter, Kim, son-in-law Felix and Ada to live with her last year. As a previously high-flying City boy, Felix had suffered a financial disaster, losing all his money, his job and his reputation. Or so village rumour had it– although Peggy wasn’t sure of the details.

Now, as Peggy reached the house, she was careful not to shake the plastic box, containing the rather-too-crumbly oat and raisin cookies she’d baked that morning– not up to her usual high standard, she was afraid– as she wrestled with the stiff latch on the gate.

She saw Lindy at the open front door, chatting to two women, one bent and frail-looking, who leaned on the arm of the younger.

When Lindy saw Peggy, she hurried over. ‘So glad to see you, sweetheart,’ she said, embracing Peggy warmly.

‘Come in and meet the gang.’ Ushering her towards the house, she cast a meaningful glance at the women still waiting at the door and whispered, ‘The old lady is Sydna Morgan– she used to be an actress, back in the day. Ninety-six next month. You’ll love her. ’

The house was cool and dark, with an atmosphere of polished wealth: flagstones and ticking clocks, floor wax, rose- and clove-scented pot-pourri, faded chintz covers and silver photo frames, a brick-red Aga keeping the kitchen warm.

Old-fashioned, but richly so. When Peggy visited she felt as if she were going back in time to a smarter version of Granny Maud’s genteelly shabby house in Wells, which conjured up very mixed emotions: she and her brother Tom had, involuntarily, spent the second half of their childhood with their grandmother.

When everyone was present, Lindy clapped her hands.

‘Welcome! So lovely to have you all here.’ She reached out a hand, laying it lightly on Peggy’s shoulder.

‘And I’m delighted to announce that I’ve found a new recruit to the cause.

’ General laughter and applause greeted her words.

‘Let me introduce you to Peggy Gilbert. She’s the partner of the lovely Ted– whom you all know from his delicious coffee up by the castle. ’

Peggy smiled at Lindy’s description of Ted. But with all those eager eyes on her, she couldn’t immediately think of anything sensible to say back, so she kept smiling, adding an awkward wave she instantly regretted.

The next hour and a half passed quickly.

Peggy was introduced to a lot of the women– including Sydna, as sharp as a tack and a brilliant raconteur of stage stories– who all seemed to know each other well.

She chatted and smiled and talked about the bay, how much she loved it, how thrilled she was to be living there.

She fielded questions about her future plans, her answers vague because there were no plans, although she mentioned that she hoped to find teaching work, in case any of the women knew of openings.

She laughed at plenty of retirement jokes about learning Turkish or scuba diving, growing giant marrows, wearing her pyjamas all day.

It was all very light-hearted, but she couldn’t help feeling a sting in the tail relating to her own uncertainties.

Lindy, at some point, rallied the room and began an uplifting speech about the dire state of the roof of the village hall, how far they were from their target.

Peggy got the impression that, though the women were thoroughly enjoying the coffee and cakes, the biscuits– even her crumbly ones– and the chance for a good natter with mates in a comfortable setting, the fundraising was a bit of a sideshow.

She suspected it would be mostly Lindy, single-handed, who would raise the money for the roof.

‘Thank you so much for inviting me,’ she said to Lindy afterwards, when the stragglers had finally left and Peggy was helping to clear up. ‘That was fun.’ She grinned, relieved that she’d engaged with all those new faces reasonably well. In fact, she’d had a good time.

‘They’re a nice lot, aren’t they?’ Lindy said, clearly pleased. ‘But bloody useless at raising money, of course.’

Peggy laughed. ‘It’s a rare skill. Not sure I’m much good at it either, but I’ll help wherever I can.’

Lindy gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Thank you. Good to have your support.’ She rinsed the coffee pot and set it upside down on the draining-board. ‘And maybe your Ted can help too. He seems to know all sorts of people.’

‘True.’ Peggy paused. ‘Although he’s always so busy.’

Lindy cocked her head, a frown on her face. ‘Gosh, you sounded rather sad just then.’

Peggy was taken aback. ‘Did I? No, no, I’m fine.’

But Lindy’s face still wore a concerned look. ‘That’s why I wanted you to meet the girls today. Don’t be shy with them. They’re good company when you get to know them, and they obviously liked you.’

‘I so appreciate being included, Lindy. I can see you all have a lovely closeness.’ I hope I can be a part of it one day , Peggy added to herself.

‘This is a proper community. We look after each other,’ Lindy said, patting her arm reassuringly.

After a short pause she went on, ‘You know, I had to take early retirement too– my husband wasn’t at all well.

It was a huge wrench. I loved my work, loved who I was in that role.

But I love what I’ve become, too. Here in the village. ’ She smiled. ‘You’ll get there.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Peggy said, managing to sound creditably upbeat. She was touched by Lindy’s insight. She had never talked to her about her worries, but it felt good to be heard without even speaking… and to be so reassured by someone who actually knew.

The two women chatted on while they finished the clearing up.

When Peggy was at the door, saying goodbye, Lindy raised her hand.

‘Nearly forgot. I’ve another book for you,’ she said.

‘Not as good as the last one, but quite compelling in a strange way. It’s on my Kindle so I can’t share and I’m hopeless at titles.

I’ll text it to you later. Check it out and we can chat about it, if it appeals. ’

Peggy smiled broadly. ‘Bring it on!’