The Push To Finish

(Ok, so the Summer hols are upon us - must start that drive to complete two biggish writing projects. By the end of the summer, Port Brokeferry will be finished and my second children's book drafted. That is the plan, at least. So here we go with another piece from Port Brokeferry - they should come a little faster now.)

ROSE MAKES A START ON SOMETHING

There were things about the place that Rose remembered. Small things. Like the shells on the windowsill of the cottage. Not that they would be the same shells as when she was a child, but it seemed to her to be the habit of people who lived by the sea to collect shells and to arrange them in the light where they could be seen.

The taste of the air was something the same too. Only faintly now of fish, but salt and sea and freshness in every breath. Rose had risen early enough to see the sun come up. She’d sat in a chair by the open back door and watched the day brighten into light and noise. The sound of the first gulls was familiar to her.

Rose smiled to herself, remembering something else from way back: small green crabs in a child’s brightly painted tin bucket half-filled with clear water. As the tide had come in she and Carrie had set them free again, just at the water’s foamy edge, watched them scuttle sideways into the sea and away. Then Rose and Carrie had run sideways up the beach pretending to have clipper claws instead of hands and snipping at the out-of-reach gulls.

Rose breathed in deep. Her head was clear and she thought of work. It was the first time in over a year. Maybe the doctors had been right. Maybe this was just the tonic she needed.

‘Don’t rush it now,’ said Carrie. In Rose’s head she heard her sister, as clearly as if she had been there in the room with her. ‘Take your time and just get yourself straight.’

Rose made herself a cup of instant coffee, no milk and no sugar. She sat at the kitchen table with a pen and a clean page in front of her. Before ten o’clock she had filled both sides of the paper in writing so small she had to hold it close to her face to read it. No crossing out. That was sometimes a good sign. Later she would type it into her computer and it would be the start of something.

She dressed then. She was pleased with herself. She tied her hair back from her face with a thick black elastic band that left a smell on her fingers. She brushed her teeth and grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. She stuck out her tongue and widened her eyes. Then she was laughing at herself.

‘If you get lonely at all, just pick up the phone and I’ll be down on the next train.’

Rose shut the front door and stepped to the end of the front path. Before she could open the gate a man dressed in white with a white cloth cap on his head, reached over and offered her a brown paper bag.

‘From Callum’s Bakery. A small something to say welcome to Port Brokeferry. Saw you arrive yesterday. It’s just some scones. I’m Callum, by the way. The wife’s next door in case you need anything.’

The bag felt warm in her hand.

‘Fresh from the oven,’ said Callum.

Rose wasn’t sure she liked having been noticed. She said nothing and Callum winked and left.