I found myself in a large stark hallway on wooden floorboards with doors leading off in several directions. I stood looking along the walls for pictures or photographs, but there was nothing that stood out, no statement pieces that suggested a mother and her son had lived here all their lives. I usually relished arriving at a new house and looking around, trying to piece together a story about the person, but this house was not giving away any clues.

‘There’s no room to swing a cat in that porch. Come through, get settled and I’ll get you a cup of tea.’ Annie wittered away as she walked in behind us.

Following Ben, I found myself in a large lounge with huge windows that showed a shingle beach just beyond a wall at the end of a garden. Ben took a seat on one of two small distressed sofas that were facing each other. Annie waited for us both to be seated and then walked out of another door opposite me into what I presumed was the kitchen. I busied myself getting comfy on the sofa opposite Ben. Neither of us removed our jackets, the chill from outside lingered in my bones. I looked at Ben, he gave a small wink and I smiled back. I found myself relaxing a little as I sat back and took in my surroundings. It was the epitome of a classic beach house. Spacious, brilliant views of the sea. The décor was a little dated; the faded floral design on the sofas was evidence that Annie had not updated her interiors for a good few years, if ever. The house seemed far too large for just one woman to live in all alone, but then of course, up until a few months ago, Ben had been here too.

There was a fireplace to my left, central to the two sofas and above it a long wooden mantelpiece. On one of the large windowsills was a green vase with some fake flowers. Scattered around were plaques which read statements such as ‘Home is where the heart is’. My eyes were drawn to a smaller plaque perched upon the mantelpiece above the fireplace. I focused hard on the writing which was just within reading distance.

The bond between mother and son is a special one

It remains unchanged by time or distance

It is the purest love – unconditional and true

It is understanding of any situation

And forgiving of any mistake.

It was the sort of thing that would be a gift and I wondered if Ben had bought it for Annie.

I sat back and took in more of the room. I looked out through the window, my eyes drawn to the sight of the ocean. I realised I didn’t take advantage of living so close to the sea, or perhaps I had never seen it looking so vivid and inviting as it did from Annie’s window.

I noted there was no television in the lounge. No hi-fi system or radio either. Just an old solitary turn table in the corner of the room. It was deafeningly quiet.