Free The Grand Reopening of Dandelion Café by Jenny Oliver

and said, ‘Oh he was handsome, even then. Such a handsome little boy.’
    Annie walked away, without fail a
just like Jonathan, what a perfect baby
statement accompanied one of her mother’s reminiscences.
    Then she paused when she heard, ‘Annie was a bonnie little thing. Cried and cried, but she was so pretty, all tiny and wrinkled and pink and lovely.’
    River, who was clearly not used to such chat, mumbled something, took the photo and sloped back to the table covered in frames. Holly and Annie exchanged a smile.
    And when she walked past Valtar, who was scraping dirt out of the grooves in the laminate tabletops and Gaffer-taping up the slits in the lino booth-seats, he gave Annie a wink and said under his breath, ‘She’s trying.’
    ‘I know.’ Annie nodded.
    ‘In both meanings of the word,’ muttered Martha as she walked past to empty her bucket. ‘Here, River, let me see that picture.’ She held out a hand for the photograph and he duly turned back to give it to her.
    Martha sighed, bringing it right up close to her eye to study it in detail. ‘I think that’s my dad there, in the window, can you see?’ She passed the photo over to Annie who could just make out half a man’s head with wire spectacles.
    ‘I don’t know anything about your dad,’ Annie said, handing the picture back, not wanting to mention how she could barely make out the figure as Martha looked so hopeful.
    ‘No. Me neither. Just that he was desperately kind,’ Martha said, holding the photo back up to her face. ‘That’s all Mum and anyone said about him, very kind. I remember him being very gentle, but not massively talkative. He came home from work, read the paper, had dinner, went to bed. I’ve often wondered whether he was challenging enough for Mum but she was insistent that he was. And of course that he was desperately kind.’ Martha smiled, and handed the photo back to River who was waiting, clearly uncomfortable, not knowing what to do with his hands. ‘I didn’t know him well enough to tell you much more. He died when I was five. And you know what Enid was like.’ Martha sighed, exasperated, ‘Ask her anything about the past and she snapped shut like a mussel shell. So frustrating.’
    Annie went back to the table of photos, flicked through them looking for more of people she recognised but came up short. ‘Maybe you’ll find something when you start clearing out Enid’s houseboat?’ she suggested.
    Martha shook her head. ‘Have you seen it? It’s piled high. It’ll take me years to go through it. But actually, Jane Williams, you know from the boat next to Mum’s?’
    Annie shook her head, she didn’t know the name.
    ‘She lives with her mother who has dementia, poor woman, won’t be here for long, poor old Jane does everything for her, anyway she’s offered to give me a hand. Mum left her some jewellery and God knows where it is in that shambles.’ Martha did a little snort, exasperation disguising any notion of how upsetting clearing her mum’s belongings was going to be. ‘Anyway, back to it,’ she said, collecting up her bucket and heading to the sink.
    ‘Hey, Annie,’ Holly called and nodded outside to where Matt, who had gone home to get his workbench and tools, was now out the front cutting down an old Victorian door panel for the kitchen that had been dragged out of the river years ago and left leaning up against the side of the boathouse. ‘He’s very handy,’ said Holly as she took the stack of photos from Annie and sorted through them to find another worth framing.
    ‘He
is
very handy,’ Annie added. And they both stood for a moment and watched as Matt pulled his sweatshirt off, taking his T-shirt with it to give a momentary glimpse of a set of golden-tanned abs.
    ‘You two are despicable,’ said Martha as she came back past with her bucket of clean water. ‘Completely despicable.’ But they watched, smirking, as she changed the direction of her floor-scrubbing so she could