Daisy’s Vintage Cornish Camper Van

by Ali McNamara

  I let the tears flow down my cheeks for what we’d been able to achieve by returning the cards to this delightful couple, for Frankie and Lou and their remarkable love story, and for the very dear friend I’d lost but who had made it possible for me to be here, experiencing this incredible moment with all the wonderful people in this room.

  Forty-Two

  Noah and I stay with Lou and Frankie for another hour.

  After the first few postcards, Lou and Frankie realise this was going to be a long and emotional journey they were undertaking in reading these declarations of love together, so they put the box down and agree to read the rest of the cards later when their guests have left.

  ‘We should be going anyway,’ Noah says, echoing what I’ve been thinking. It felt like we’d done what we came here to do, and now it was time for us to leave this couple to discover nearly half a century of love together, privately and in their own time.

  ‘Oh, do you have to?’ Lou pleads, heaving himself up off the sofa. ‘It’s been so lovely meeting you both. I really can’t thank you enough for taking the time to return these cards to me, and for bringing Rose – I mean Daisy-Rose – to see me again.’

  ‘Would you like you keep her?’ I suddenly hear myself saying. ‘It was my friend, the one I mentioned earlier, who told me I had to come down to St Felix to collect her and restore her to her former glory. It was her final wish. But she also said I had to do something with Daisy-Rose that would make myself and others happy. I’m sure you’d love having her back in your life again, wouldn’t you, Lou? And I know it would make me extremely happy to give her to you.’

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ Lou says, coming over and hugging me. ‘That’s such a lovely generous thought, but I’m too old to be looking after a camper van now, even one as smart and sassy – looking as Daisy-Rose. No, you must keep her to enjoy, my darling Ana. She’s yours now. Go out and enjoy her, she’s a wonderful companion. Although,’ he says, winking at Noah, ‘I see you’ve already found one of those.’

  ‘I have,’ I say, reaching for Noah’s hand this time. ‘You’re sure you won’t change your mind?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  They walk us outside to where Daisy-Rose is waiting to take us home again.

  Noah goes over to shake Frankie’s hand, and Lou hugs me again.

  ‘I honestly can’t thank you enough,’ he says, standing back to look at me. ‘This has made my life complete now, having the cards to show my Frankie and seeing this old gal again.’

  He puts his hand on Daisy-Rose one last time. ‘What’s that?’ he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen. ‘Oh, you think so, do you?’

  He turns back to face me.

  ‘Bit of a strange one this,’ he says, ‘but Daisy-Rose thinks you should paint.’

  ‘What?’ I ask, not sure if I’m more surprised by his suggestion or by the fact he appears to think a camper van is talking to him.

  ‘She thinks you should paint. Are you artistic in any way?’

  ‘Sort of. I’m a graphic designer.’

  ‘Then expand, darling!’ Lou says dramatically. ‘Throw off your shackles and let your artistic side explode on to the canvas. Daisy-Rose will help you. She’ll take you to all the best places for you to paint if you let her.’

  ‘Okay…’ I reply hesitantly. ‘If you think so?’

  ‘I know so, darling.’

  I hug Lou again, then Frankie, and then Noah and I climb back into Daisy-Rose promising to come back and visit very soon.

  Then we drive away, taking Daisy-Rose with us but leaving the postcards where they very much belong.

  ‘What a day,’ I say to Noah, as we drive back up towards St Felix. After my efforts earlier, I’d offered Noah the chance to drive Daisy-Rose home, which he’d gratefully accepted. We’d found a radio station playing an hour of eighties music on the little radio that Malachi had fitted into the dashboard, and I felt happy and relaxed as we journeyed to St Felix, our job done.

  ‘It’s been a pretty special one, hasn’t it?’ Noah says, glancing across at me. ‘I’m glad I could share all that with you today, Ana.’

  ‘And me you.’ I think for a few moments while I listen to The Police singing on the radio. ‘So many things were such a surprise today, like Lou being a man. How had we never thought of that before?’

  ‘We just assumed, I guess. Their story was pretty amazing, though, don’t you think?’

  ‘It was. Imagine loving someone for all those years and not knowing if they would ever be yours again? Even though their love wasn’t exactly unrequited, that sort of love when it’s one-sided is such a hard thing to bear.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Noah says quietly, looking ahead.

  ‘It was incredible what they were saying about Malachi, though, wasn’t it? What are the odds of it being anyone other than our Malachi back in St Felix?’

  ‘It would be an awful coincidence if it wasn’t. I mean what would be the chances of someone else of the right age and the right description being called Malachi, equipped with an Irish accent and owning a dog called Ralph shortened from Raphael?’

  ‘I know. Malachi always says there’s no such thing as coincidences.’

  ‘That’s funny, Jess said something similar to me the other day too.’

  ‘Did she? I always thought it was strange about those two. They clearly seemed to know each other at the barbecue, but wouldn’t admit that they did.’

  ‘Yeah, also Jess was acting really oddly before we left this morning. Kept telling me how glad she was that we were together at last, and how it meant so much to her. She kept looking at the shop bell every time it rang too. In fact, she was positively jumping any time someone came into the shop.’

  ‘Malachi was saying some strange things too. I mean his behaviour is often quite unconventional, but this morning, it sounds weird to say it, it felt like he’d grown up, like he’d shed his Jack the Lad attitude and become an older and wiser person.’

  Noah laughs. ‘What a couple of oddballs we’ve got ourselves involved with.’

  ‘But they mean well, and they were both always very keen for us to be together. When I first knew Malachi I thought he was flirting with me, but then I realised it was just his way. Whatever you may think of him, he really likes you, Noah.’

  ‘I don’t have a problem with Malachi. I did when I thought he might be after you.’ He glances across at me. ‘But now I’m fine with him. He seems like a good guy.’

  ‘He is. He certainly worked his magic on this little lady that’s for sure.’ I tap the dashboard in front of me.

  ‘He must have worked night and day.’

  ‘Yes, I must pay him properly when we get back. I’ll nip up to the garage first thing tomorrow. It’ll be too late by the time we get back tonight. Is it okay if we park Daisy-Rose behind the shop now? There’s no reason for her to be at the garage any more.’

  ‘Sure, start as we mean to go on,’ Noah says, reaching across and squeezing my hand briefly before returning his to the steering wheel in the correct ten to two position.

  I smile at his correctness. I’d thought Noah very uptight when I’d first met him, but now I knew why, I completely understood, and even better, all his little idiosyncrasies made me like him even more.

  ‘Ooh, I like this one,’ I say, still smiling, as I hear Annie Lennox singing about angels on the radio.

  I sing along, and to my surprise Noah joins in.

  ‘What?’ he asks, grinning at me. ‘You’re not the only one who has the monopoly on eighties music, you know?’

  And we continue to sing happily along together until we reach home.

  Forty-Three

  The next morning I head up the hill towards the garage still singing.

  Last night I’d spent the evening with Noah, and even though his house was just as smart and tidy as he was, I was glad to find that he yet again left that attitude at the bedroom door.

  Without thinking, I head immediately around to the back of th
e garage.

  ‘Can I help you?’ I hear someone call from the office. Then I see a large round man walking across the yard towards me. He’s wearing the same navy overalls that Malachi usually wore only in a slightly bigger size.

  ‘Oh, hi, is Malachi around?’ I ask, wondering who this is.

  ‘Who?’ The guy looks me doubtfully up and down.

  ‘Malachi, the chap who’s been looking after the garage in the last few weeks while Bob is away.’

  ‘I’m Bob,’ the man says, looking even more suspicious of me. ‘And no one has been here since I’ve been away. I left on too short notice to get anyone to cover, so I don’t know who you’re talking about. There’s no one called Malachi here, I can assure you of that.’

  ‘B – but…’ What was happening here? Where was Malachi? ‘If no one has been here,’ I say, suddenly remembering, ‘who sold the MG that you had parked out the front before you left?’

  ‘How did you know about that?’ Bobs asks, half in amazement, half in disbelief. ‘I thought it had been stolen when I came back and it wasn’t there, but when I went to the office to call the police I found the money in the safe with the buyer’s details and a copy of the paperwork.’

  ‘That was Malachi,’ I say almost proudly. ‘You should be grateful to him. He’s kept this place ticking over while you’ve been gone.’

  ‘Has he now?’ Bob says, staring at me suspiciously again. ‘Be sure to thank him from me then, when you see him,’ he adds sarcastically.

  ‘I will,’ I say, marching away out of the garage and back on to the street. But I pause as I step on to the pavement.

  What is going on?

  I try ringing Malachi’s mobile but an automated voice tells me his number is no longer in service. Damn! I rush back down the hill towards the cottage, for some reason wondering if he might be there, but as I hurry along Harbour Street my phone rings.

  ‘Ana,’ Noah says, sounding quite odd. ‘Have you seen Malachi this morning by any chance?’

  ‘No, I was just thinking of calling you. I went to the garage and Bob was back. He said he knew nothing about Malachi looking after the place while he was away.’

  ‘Right…’ Noah says in the same dazed voice.

  ‘What’s wrong, Noah? You’re starting to worry me.’

  ‘You didn’t notice a note or anything in your cottage this morning, did you?’

  ‘No, I showered and everything at yours, didn’t I, so I only nipped in there briefly to pick up the cash to pay Malachi. What sort of a note?’ I ask uneasily. I didn’t like the tone of Noah’s voice.

  ‘It’s just I got into work this morning and found an envelope addressed to me stuck to the till. It was from Jess. She’s gone.’

  ‘What do you mean “gone”? She’s left her job, or left St Felix?’

  ‘Both. But there’s a bit more to it than that. If Malachi is missing too, I think you might have a note somewhere as well. Are you far from your cottage?’

  ‘No, I’m almost back there now.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come over.’

  ‘But what about the shop?’

  ‘The shop can wait. This is more important. Much more important.’

  I get back to the cottage and pull open the door, then I rush about the house looking for a note. I’m about to give up when I notice the French windows. Someone had used one of my lipsticks to draw an 8 on one glass door, and a 0 on the other. Without stopping to wonder who, I quickly unlock the doors and fling them open. It’s then that I see it – a white envelope stuck with tape to the black wrought-iron balcony.

  It has Ana written on the front in an ornate black font. I stand for a moment staring at the envelope. What was it going to say inside? Noah had sounded almost spooked when I’d spoken to him on the phone just now.

  Unable to bear the suspense any longer, I tear the envelope away from the balcony and rip it open.

  Inside the envelope is a postcard. It has a picture of a red camper van on the front.

  I turn it over. The message is written in a tiny florid black handwriting, but it’s not too small that I can’t appreciate every word:

  My dearest Ana,

  By now you’ll know that I’ve gone.

  I was only ever going to be in your life temporarily, to help you and guide you back on to the right path.

  Whenever someone is in trouble we are sent in to help, and boy, were you in trouble! You could never ask us for help – you were too proud to ever do that, but with the help of your friend Daisy I was able to come to you and assist you in your time of need. You made my mission so much easier to complete by eventually (you put up a good fight to begin with!) allowing me to help and advise you.

  Noah is a good man, and as you now know he too has had his troubles in the past, but he, like you, was too proud to ask for help. So this was a double mission for my junior Jess and me. Jess is over the moon (literally, now she has her wings) that we were able to succeed, and I too am delighted that you and Noah will make each other happy for decades to come.

  But much more than that, I want to tell you what a joy it was to be with you as you repaired yourself. As Daisy-Rose was brought back to life in front of me, so were you, Ana, and that is all the reward I could ever ask for – to see someone happy and filled with love again.

  Take care of yourself, Noah and, of course, Daisy-Rose. Lou was right – she will guide you in all your future endeavours now I am not there to look after you. But be assured, Ralph and I will always be here if you need us.

  You only have to ask.

  But for now, I must say farewell.

  Always know, Anastasia, I will be

  Forever yours,

  Malachi x

  As I stand on the balcony holding the letter I hear Noah let himself in downstairs, and then he comes bursting up the stairs grasping his own letter tightly in his hand.

  ‘Did you get one?’ he asks breathlessly, as he joins me out on the balcony.

  ‘Yes, but mine was a postcard,’ I say, holding it up for him to see. ‘Quite appropriate, really.’

  ‘What does it all mean?’ Noah asks. I notice he looks very pale, even though I’m sure he likely ran all the way here.

  I don’t answer him. I look down at the card in my hand again.

  ‘You’re very calm, Ana,’ Noah says. ‘If your postcard says anything like what my letter does, then I’d expect you to be jumping around like me.’

  ‘I think it probably does.’ I pass Noah the card, and he passes me his letter from Jess.

  Jess has been a little less eloquent than Malachi, but the essence of her letter is very similar to my card.

  ‘Do you believe it?’ Noah asks, passing me my card back. ‘What they are suggesting? I mean it’s all a bit strange, isn’t it?’

  ‘Does it actually matter?’ I ask, turning Noah towards me so we look into each other’s eyes.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean both Malachi and Jess helped the two of us when we needed it. In their different ways they were there for us, and they not only helped us with practical things like running your shop and restoring Daisy-Rose, they helped us to heal and make our peace with the past, and most importantly of all they helped us to find each other. So what does it matter who or what they are? We have them to thank for so much.’

  Noah nods in agreement, then without speaking he pulls me to him and we wrap our arms around each other tightly in the silent knowledge that our friends and loved ones may be gone, but we will always have each other.

  As I rest my head on Noah’s shoulder, suddenly I see it.

  ‘Look,’ I say, pulling away from him a little. He follows my gaze.

  We both stare up into the sky, where we see slowly forming in the clouds above us, a perfectly shaped heart, and in the heart are the numbers 8 and 0.

  Then as quickly as it appears, it disappears, as the rest of the swirling clouds swallow it up again. But I know as I look up at the sky that the friends I’ve known and lost will al
ways be there, watching me and loving me from afar.

  Acknowledgements

  What a joy it’s been to be given the chance to return to the magical town of St Felix once more. I loved revisiting some old friends, meeting some new ones, and catching up on what’s been going on with the town and its residents since The Little Flower Shop by the Sea. Fictional St Felix, as some of you may know, is inspired by the beautiful town of St Ives down on the far west tip of Cornwall. It’s one of my favourite places to visit in the world, and many of the locations in St Felix are based on places you can see there. There is something very special about St Ives, and I hope in St Felix I’ve captured a little of its unique appeal.