Free The Grand Reopening of Dandelion Café by Jenny Oliver Page A

look out the window too.
    Annie smiled, but there was only so long she could stare without looking obvious so, turning her back on the lovely view, she went over to the counter and crouched down to start sorting through all the junk underneath it. There were piles of old flyers for island events ‒ ones for Valtar’s Elvis nights at the pub and lots for bands playing at the lighthouse or at the club over the river, used notepads, pots of blunt pencils and Biros that didn’t work, boxes that when she opened them were filled with elastic bands, safety pins, a screwdriver with lots of different-sized heads, tape measures, corks, hairbands, old scissors and rolls of nearly finished Sellotape. ‘I take it this can all go in the bin?’ she shouted, holding up the box.
    ‘That was all Enid’s,’ Ludo shouted above his clattering.
    Annie found a couple of pairs of shoes, an old cardigan, some dog-eared paperbacks and a pack of playing cards. Then, right at the back was a shoebox. A dead spider dropped on her hand as she pulled the box forward making her yell and tip back so she was sitting on the floor.
    ‘Everything OK?’ Holly called out.
    ‘Fine. Fine,’ said Annie, flicking the spider out of sight and resting the shoebox in her lap. She did a little laugh when she saw the Dolcis shoes logo and remembered a pair of hot-pink fur-lined pixie boots she’d begged for in the eighties, going in and trying them on and her mum saying she’d pay half. Annie had gone round the whole island for odd jobs ‒ she’d picked cherries, scrubbed boats, pulled up dandelions, cleaned cars ‒ and finally got her boots, in their white Dolcis box, in their black plastic Dolcis drawstring bag. It was a forgotten highlight of her childhood.
    ‘Mum?’ she shouted from where she sat on the floor. ‘What happened to my pink boots?’
    ‘Your brother took them,’ her mum called back.
    ‘He did?’ Annie frowned.
    There was silence for a moment. ‘Gerty found them in the attic and wanted them.’
    ‘She did?’ Annie said, a note of triumph in her voice now.
    ‘Suzi wasn’t sure but, you know Gerty, no stopping her once she wants something.’
    Annie held the lid of the box against her chest. Thinking of her niece in her pink fur-lined boots made her happier than anything to do with the cafe. She’d always been a bit worried that her brother would squash little Gerty’s spirit, but she should have had more faith.
    Smiling, she looked down into the box and was surprised to see inside stacks and stacks of postcards, all lined up widthways like a Rolodex. Filed from old to new. The ones at the back browning, the edges frayed like they were well-thumbed. At the front they were shiny new from places like Tokyo, New York, Melbourne.
    Annie took one from the back. Beautiful Cape Town it said on the front in a scrolling typeface and a picture of a sunset and fireworks and the shadow of Table Mountain.
    River WalkerEnid Morris, Dandelion Cafe.
    Abseiled Table Mountain this morning. Had to do it early as not strictly allowed. Had lights on our helmets but the sun rose just as we were half way, most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. Made me feel tiny. Small as you are
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    Matt (Dad)
    The writing was worn. Like sticky hands had touched it over and over. Annie leant sideways so she could poke her head round the kitchen door.
    ‘Ludo?’ she said.
    He looked up from where he was reshelving and organising.
    ‘Have you seen these before?’ Annie asked, holding the shoebox up at an angle so he could see inside.
    ‘Never.’
    ‘OK.’ She sat back. Buster, piqued by the idea of someone sitting at floor level, thumped over and lay himself down along the length of her outstretched leg. As the dog started snoring, Annie picked up the next postcard.
    Patagonia, Chile. The Corcovado Volcano.
    Ice climbing = harder than I thought. Broke wrist and can only use left hand ‒ excuse handwriting. View = life-changing
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    Would like you to see it one