“That’s the spirit!” said Mari. “Truth be told, we’re in a similar position, you and I. My nephew wants me to sell the place. Thinks a property developer would jump at the chance to get his hands on this land.”

“Surely your nephew can’t force you to sell?” said Annie.

“Force isn’t the right word,” said Mari. “Like I said, he’s a worrier. He’d like to see me somewhere a bit more populated. For safety! If he had his way, I’d be living in one of those retirement villages with twenty-four-hour warden control and a panic button around my neck.”

Annie didn’t think this sounded like a bad idea. Mari had to be well into her eighties, if not nineties. How long could she realistically stay living somewhere this remote? All the same, Annie wondered how much of selling to a developer was for Mari’s benefit and how much for his personal financial gain; beachside land must be at a premium. Instead she said: “Don’t let anybody force you into something you don’t want to do. If you don’t want to sell, don’t sell. Your nephew will have to respect your wishes.”

“Ach, don’t you worry about me, hen,” said Mari. “He’s a big softy underneath it all. Now, I’ll leave instructions on how everything works and days for bin collections and things. Paul, the window cleaner, comes every third Monday of the month, and I’ll leave this month’s money in an envelope. I’ve taken the liberty of making a few notes that might be helpful with orientating yourself with the Nook. I have to write notes for myself these days . . . I get a little absentminded . . . Now, then, let me see, what else . . .”

“So, I’ve got the position, then?” Annie asked.

“Yes, dear,” said Mari. “I’ve never left my home with a guardian before, so I’m not exactly sure of the protocol.”

“I’ve never been a guardian before, so we’re both learning new things!” said Annie. “I won’t let you down.”

“Of course you won’t!” said Mari. “How soon can you move in? I’m packed and ready to go. I had a good feeling about you. I called my nephew last night, and he’s coming down tomorrow to take me to the train station.”

Can’t wait to bundle you off so he can sell your home from under you, thought Annie.

Mari was bustling about the little sitting room, pulling papers out of seemingly random books on shelves and stacking them in a pile on the coffee table.

“If you’re leaving tomorrow,” said Annie, “that gives me a day to get my things in order, and I’ll move in on Sunday, if that’s okay?”