Heigh ho, heigh ho, to the seaside we shall go...!
Everybody get your 'awwww's ready... Just sayin'...!
The smell of the salt hit them in the face as soon as they came out of the station. It was fresh, new and filled with life. The call of the gulls crying above them was like music to their ears.
Whitby was at its best. The harbour bustled, boats docking with the tide and doing good business. Shop owners, kitchen managers and housewives bartered and haggled for the best prices over the harvest of the sea.
"Oh John, look at the abbey…!"
Anna gasped to see Whitby Abbey loom above them on the cliffs, impressive as a monument, dominating the skyline.
"Well…" mused John. "We might be leaving one Abbey… but this will make up for it."
Consulting his notes, they walked up from the harbour towards the row of guest houses where their future dream waited for them, a little white guesthouse called The Gull's Nest.
…
Mr Rawlins was a gentleman, Anna decided immediately. And his frail little wife was charming. She sat in a tall backed armchair in their best parlour, neatly and daintily turned out, down to the Whitby jet broach at her collar.
"I'm so pleased you could come see us, both of you," Mr Rawlins passed over their cups of tea, with dainty little sugar biscuits balanced on the saucers. "We hate to give up the hotel, but it has to be done."
"I just can't manage the stairs any more, not at my age" chirped Mrs Rawlins, with a touch of sadness. "It's been our home for more than 30 years, but all good things must come to an end."
"How did you come to buy the place?"
"Well, we worked hard, didn't we dear? We saved up everything we earned. We were walking out for a long time, you know. I was a cook general in another guest house, down in the town. And this were a gentleman's residence at the time."
John wasn't surprised to hear this. The whole place had the look of Crawley House, where Mr Matthew had lived with his mother, Mrs Crawley.
"Alfred worked here, didn't you love? He were a right important man in the house. Started as Valet to Mr Cumberland, who lived here. Then after Mr Cumberland married, he were promoted, to Butler."
Her pride in her husband shone through every single wrinkle on her face. Anna's heart warmed to them.
"How did the place come to be put on the market?"
"Well, Mr Cumberland, he were the bank manager, here at Whitby. He did well, looked after the place right and proper. So well that he were offered another job, at the big bank in York! Well, that were too far away to travel every day, and his wife didn't like the idea to stay here while he worked away. So they put the house on the market, and Alfred and I had enough saved up for a deposit. Mr Cumberland offered to help us out with a mortgage for the rest, 'im having connections and all."
John smiled to himself. Their story was so similar to theirs. All the same elements, just in a different order.
"Would you like to see round the place?"
Mr Rawlins got to his feet.
Yes they would. Yes indeed.
. . .
Afterwards, John began to wonder if it had been destiny. It was all so perfect.
The guest house was ready for them. Mr Rawlins included all the furniture, linens, fixtures and fittings in the offer. He and his wife were going to live with their son and daughter in law, and other than a few bits and pieces there was not much they would be taking with them.
It would do. For now. Until the found the things they wanted.
John promised to be in touch once all the financial details had been sorted out. Mr Rawlins gave his word not to entertain another other until he'd spoken to the Bates about a final decision. His firm handshake was all the agreement that John needed.
They walked down the now quiet harbour, the tide slipping out gradually. It would return in the evening, with the next catch, and the whole place would come to life again. A few shops were open, doing business with the springtime visitors.
"I just want to go…?"
"Do you mind if I...?"
They spoke at the same time, laughing together. With a kiss, they separated to go about their shopping, agreeing to meet at a small tea house on the front.
…
John arrived first, securing a table and ordering tea for two. He hastily placed the small package he carried in his coat pocket. Soon he saw her, walking down the harbour road, beautiful in her rich green coat and hat.
"You were quick…" she settled opposite him, taking off her coat and gloves.
"It didn't take long to find what I wanted. What about you?"
"Only one of two shops."
"Well? What did you buy?"
Anna had that expression, like a naughty squirrel who can't help giving clues to where its stash of winter nuts is buried.
"Close your eyes."
When John opened them again, he found a small box in his hands. A small leather box.
"Anna…"
"Open it. Please."
Inside, there were cufflinks, and a tie pin. Sturdy. Made from sterling silver, solid and plain, but with circles of Whitby jet pressed into the round links and a strip along the tie pin.
"For the new manager of The Gull's Nest."
John felt the lump rise his throat, forcing down all his inadequate words.
"Do you like them?"
He nodded.
"Really?"
"Anna… if I try to say how much, I will embarrass us both by weeping here at this table."
The waitress appeared with the tray. Recognising an intimate moment, she was mercifully brief and tactful. Anna reached to stir the pot.
"Wait… you haven't had your turn yet. Let me do that. This is for you."
John rummaged in his pocket for a package of brown paper. Inside, Anna found another box. A velvet one.
Her eyes met his, shining with joy. She wanted to tell him off for spoiling her, but didn't dare after her own gift.
"Open it."
Inside lay a brooch. Shaped like a heart, its edge was formed of delicate twists, which curled and looped back on themselves. Anna had seen patterns like it before in the old graveyard at Downton Church. Celtic, the vicar had called them. At the centre was a solid heart of Whitby jet, polished and gleaming.
"Oh John…"
"For the new manageress of The Gull's Nest."
"It's perfect."
"As is your gift."
For a few minutes, they stared at each other, lost in their joy at each other's happiness.
"Come on, your tea's going cold. I got some thing for Daisy and something for Bill too."
"Oh good, I was going to say shall we look for something."
"For Daisy I got this."
Another box, smaller and simpler. Inside was a little necklace of jet, simple beads strung together. Plain and understated, but both of them knew it would be cherished.
"Oh it's perfect," cooed Anna, "She'll love it. Just right for her. Not too flash, not so expensive that she'd worry about losing it. What did you find for Bill?"
"This."
John was proud of this one. A small lacquered wooden box, inlaid with jet across the lid in the pattern of an oak leaf. Perfect for Bill's tobacco.
"I thought we'd pick some up on the way for the train. Just to start him off. I thought about a new pipe, but I think he's devoted to his."
"I think he is, he'll smoke that until the day he dies."
"I hope that you will wear this, until the day you die, too…"
There was one more box in John's hand.
"The brooch is for you to have when we move in, when it's all settled. But this is for now."
Anna was speechless. The box was a ring box. She'd seen them before, in Lady Mary's room.
"John what did you…"
"Please, just listen. Years ago, when I told you I was going to divorce Vera, I cheated you out of your proposal, as it should have been done. I was in a rush, I panicked, and you guessed what was happening before I asked you properly. And then when we married, you made all the running, talked me into something that I should have been running towards, not running away from. You were right, then, and you're right now. I love you, Anna. More with each day, and so, this is for you…"
John opened the box.
Inside there was a ring. A gold one. With one shining emerald, set into the middle of it.
"John, what did you…"
"Please, please…" he covered her hand with his free one.
Anna fell silent at the look of devotion on his face.
"Anna I love you. I know you're my wife, but this is the proposal you should have had years ago. At the beginning of a new chapter of our lives together, I wanted to ask you, will you go on being my wife? Be my love, my partner, my salvation, in everything we do together?"
Anna's eyes widened. She was stunned into silence, beyond speech, beyond words.
Had this been a real proposal John would have started to get nervous.
"You don't want me to get down on my good knee, do you?" he said gently, hoping to break the spell.
"Oh John… yes! Yes I will always be your wife, always…"
Anna stretched out her hand, allowing John to slip the delicate little ring over her wedding finger, to nestle above the band she'd worn every day since their vows in Ripon register office. It sparkled on her finger, catching the light.
"There now…"
He stroked her face, as she raised her other hand to capture his.
"That's my girl."