Dear Rosie Hughes: This is the most uplifting and emotional novel you will read in 2019!. Melanie Hudson

I have absolutely no idea how Ishmael found his way to Appledart or where he’s from originally. His accent sounds eastern European. I must ask him. Is Ishmael a Jewish name? He’s built himself a fab house with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the beach (I thought poets were supposed to be poor?). My cottage, on the other hand, is cosy but damp and dark, and is positioned next to the cafe and sits with its toes in the harbour. Anya likes whiskey, Ishmael does not.

      Then there is ‘the family’ who live near the beach and are originally from Brighton. They provide the bay with a little noise and are *bitch alert* intensely annoying. They’ve been here since March having watched a few too many TV programmes about escaping to the country. He works from home (something to do with investments) and she flounces around drinking spinach smoothies and making art installations from beach finds. The kids are home-schooled, which means they get kicked out of the house at breakfast and are let back in at teatime (it’s an OK life, I suppose). The kids, who have ridiculously posh names I can’t remember, run into the café at some point every day, which feels like a tornado passing through. I usually shoo them out after about ten minutes (my tolerance of children has not improved).

      The café is perfect (at least, now I’ve given it a bloody good clean, it is) – I’ll be bumping that food hygiene certificate up to five stars, thank you very much! Anya has been keeping the place open, but with a limited fresh seafood option, which is disappointing for some of the visitors. Her stews are awesome, but her cakes are dry – she just doesn’t put enough love into them, so as from tomorrow, I’m making the cakes! There are a dozen or so customers most days, thanks to Shaun and his Landrover, and even more if there’s a walking tour passing through (luckily the type of people who go on walking holidays are also people who don’t object to the weather in Scotland in the winter).

      To surmise, I love it here, and the good news is there’s no mobile phone signal which means that if I ignore their emails, I can hide from my publisher and from Isabella for weeks. But oh, Rosie, for the first time in years I don’t feel lonely, even though I’m living so remotely. I suppose, because Anya and Ishmael live alone, and because I go to the café every day, we’re all collectively alone, but together.

      I’ve written out the bucket list and stuck it on the fridge (I added, ‘drop a dress size, you fat cow – Aggie only’) on the bottom of the list.

      Anyway, that’s my update. Stay safe, lovely lady.

      Aggie

      P.S. Ishmael is not for me AT ALL (if that’s what you’re thinking).

      ‘E’ Bluey

      From: Agatha

      To: Rosie

      Date: 2 February

      Hi, Rosie

      I’ve just got back to the cottage after a stint at the café. The fire and the candles are lit, dinner is reheating on the hob (leftover chorizo and chickpea stew, care of Anya) and I’m going to settle down with a book. Who needs a man, eh? The cottage has a bookshelf full of fab titles, many of them classics, which means I can feel self-righteous by progressing with the bucket list. Shall I send some out to you?

      I’ve been so busy writing books over the last few years, I’ve practically stopped reading, and as you’ll remember, reading was always my first love (strike that, my first love was and is baking, but reading comes a close second). Also, there’s a lovely little piano that is almost in tune, so what with the books and the piano, I can at least start working towards two of my bucket list objectives!

      The not so good news is that, despite travelling several hundred miles north to my self-imposed retreat, the writing still isn’t flowing. I sit down in front of my laptop and perform my creative ritual every day – light a candle, place my Cornish pixie on the table next to me, and then begin. Only I don’t … begin, that is. It’s time to get cracking with that bucket list – maybe it will bring me inspiration. I’m going to start with sending a message in a bottle, and I know exactly which message I’m going to send.

      I’m going to sign off now as I want to email Mum. Wish me luck!

      Loads of love,

      Aggie

      From: [email protected]

      To: [email protected]

      Date: 2 February

      Subject: Don’t be mad at me, Mamma

      Hi, Mamma

      I know you’ll be checking your inbox for Internet dating messages, so please don’t pretend that you haven’t read this. Firstly, I want you to know that I love you, but please try to understand that in coming to Scotland my main priority was to help my friend and yes, I admit, I wanted to get away for a while. But the important point is this: I needed to get away from my life, not from you. I need to understand why I’m no longer able to focus on my writing and, like you have always said, a change is as good as a rest. Do you remember my friend, Rosie – her brother was that boy I dated, Simon (and that isn’t in any way a dig at you, I got over that a long time ago). Anyway, Rosie and I wrote a list of random things we wanted to do during our lives, one of them was to send a message in a bottle. I’ve decided to write my message now, cork it up, and send it out to sea. It will say, ‘To whom this may concern: Give love today because tomorrow doesn’t exist and yesterday is gone’.