Alfred grunted. “Built like a shire horse and just as pigheaded. I appreciate the snacks you leave out for me.” His voice was gruff.

“It’s no bother,” said Annie.

“You don’t have to do it just because Mari did.”

“I know. I like to. And besides, you help me with the garden, and you were a godsend getting this place ready, so it’s payment for services rendered.”

Alfred made a sort of growl that might have been an agreement. Annie handed him his coffee.

“Thank you. You make very good coffee.”

“Thank you. You are always welcome to stop for a morning coffee before you disappear off on your daily travels,” said Annie.

By half past nine, people were starting to gather in the general Saltwater Nook area. Emily and a couple of others held placards that read SAVE SALTWATER NOOK, but they were quietly respectful in their dissent.

Soon, there was a bigger crowd than Annie could have foreseen, and she began to worry about how she was going to manage. Pam had to shout to be heard above the crowd when she made her speech, before cutting the ribbon across the door with due pomp and ceremony: “I now declare the Saltwater Café open!”

A cheer went up.

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say we are delighted that Annie, with Mari’s blessing, has decided to make Saltwater Nook an active part of our community once more.”

More cheering. And then someone piped up: “Come on, then, get that coffee machine humming!”

And so it began and it did not stop. As the first wave of customers filed into the café, it became quickly evident that, despite not offering table service, there was still not enough of Annie to go around.

“Need a hand?” Samantha’s voice trilled across the crowd.

“Would you mind? Could you work the till?” Annie called. She’d splashed out and treated herself to a twenty-first-century till in the refit.

Samantha pushed her way through the waiting customers and around to the service side of the counter. She took a moment to scan the till and nodded to herself.

“Right,” she said. “I’ve got this, you concentrate on coffee.”

“Thank you so much!” Annie gushed. “I really misjudged the numbers.”

Samantha took orders and payments and doled out sundries, while Annie worked the coffee machine, her arms aching. There was a party atmosphere in and outside of the café; nostalgic sounds of 1930s jazz and swing played through the speakers and lent an ambience of calm despite the hubbub. Gemma grinned and waved from the back of the room. By the time she and the children reached the front of the queue, she looked as though she might burst.

“It’s amazing!” she gushed. “You’re amazing! What a turnout. You must be so pleased. Oh, well done, Annie, I’m so proud of you! Samantha, are you moonlighting? Where’s Tom?”

Annie laughed.