Chapter Two
Annabelle had noticed the new neighbor moving in yesterday afternoon, and honestly, she hadn't been able to think about much else since.
A new friend, and right next door as well. How convenient. Perfect for swapping keys and watering plants when somebody went on holiday, and besides, a bit of company was always nice, wasn’t it?
She'd been up since dawn, but that was because she generally was, and was now humming along to the radio as she creamed butter and sugar, mixed eggs and flour, and then watched her famous lemon biscuits turn golden in the oven.
The kitchen smelled delicious, and Annabelle had already eaten two biscuits straight from the cooling rack because really, what was the point of baking if you couldn't quality control your own work?
Now she practically bounced around the kitchen, arranging everything into a wicker basket she'd lined with a cheerful gingham cloth. Lemon biscuits wrapped in parchment and tied with twine, a jar of her homemade strawberry jam, and a small pot of honey from Arty at the pub’s bees.
The flowers were the finishing touch. She'd gone out into her garden before the sun was properly up and picked the brightest blooms she could find, cheerful yellow daisies, pink roses that were probably having their last hurrah before autumn really set in, and some trailing ivy because it looked pretty. The whole arrangement was a bit lopsided, but in Annabelle’s opinion, that just gave it character.
"Perfect," she announced to her empty kitchen, grinning at the basket like it might grin back.
The reflection in the window showed someone with slightly messy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a snub nose, and the kind of lines that showed that she smiled rather more often than she probably should if she was at all interested in not looking her age. Which she wasn’t, in particular.
Now, the only question was whether to deliver the basket right this moment or wait until this evening. Annabelle checked her watch. Quarter past seven. She had to leave for school in twenty minutes.
Evening it was, then. Which meant she had all day to think about what to say, how to introduce herself, whether to mention that she'd already picked out the perfect book recommendations in case her new neighbor liked reading, and whether or not she should invite said neighbor for a cup of tea.
"Stop it," she told herself firmly, though she was still smiling. "You're being ridiculous."
But she couldn't help it. Bankton was a wonderful village, truly, but it was also quite small, and most people had lived here their entire lives.
A new face was exciting. Someone who didn't already know every single embarrassing story about her (like the Great Trifle Incident of 2019, which really wasn't her fault, no matter what Lily said).
Annabelle gave the basket one last satisfied look, covered it with a clean tea towel, and set it carefully on the counter where she'd see it the moment she got home from school.
Then she grabbed her bag and headed out the door, already planning her introduction speech.
"GOOD MORNING, MS. Swift!"
"Good morning, Louis!" Annabelle beamed at the little boy who'd just barreled through the classroom door, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders. "Did you have a nice weekend?"
"We went to the park and I fell in the pond!"
"Oh my goodness!" Annabelle crouched down to his level, her eyes wide with interest. "Were you alright?"
"Yeah, my dad had to fish me out though, and Mum said he should've been watching me better, and then we had an ice cream and then we fed the ducks and then it was already time to go home." Louis took a breath. "Can I go play with the building blocks?"
"Of course you can, love."
She watched him scamper off, then straightened up with a small sigh.
She made a mental note to keep an extra eye on Louis today to see if he was getting any sniffles from his time in the pond.
Children trickled in steadily after that, each one receiving the same enthusiastic greeting.
Annabelle loved this part of the day, the fresh start, the clean slate, the pure possibility of it all.
Year Three was her favorite year to teach, mainly because the children were old enough to have proper conversations but young enough to still get excited about absolutely everything.
"Morning, Ms. Swift!" That was Gemma, dragging her dad behind her. "Can I show you my reading log? I read three whole books this weekend and one of them had chapters."
"Three! That's brilliant, Gemma! Pop it on my desk and I'll have a look in just a minute."
Nina arrived right on time at half past eight, which Annabelle considered a victory given that Nina's timekeeping was usually about as reliable as British Rail’s.
"Morning!" Nina announced brightly, juggling her handbag, a travel mug of coffee, and a stack of papers that looked dangerously close to sliding onto the floor. "I've got the worksheets you wanted for this afternoon's maths lesson, and I… oh no…"
The papers slipped.
Annabelle lunged forward and managed to catch about half of them before they scattered across the floor. "Got them."
"Sorry, sorry," Nina was already on her hands and knees, gathering up the rest. "I don't know why I keep dropping things. It's like my hands have just decided they don't want to hold things anymore."
"It's fine, honestly. Thank you for printing these." Annabelle helped her up, taking the coffee mug before Nina could spill that too. "Right, shall we get these children registered?"
The morning passed in its usual blur of literacy lessons and times tables, of small triumphs and smaller catastrophes.
Marie couldn't find her pencil case (it was in her drawer).
Thomas forgot it was PE day (Annabelle kept spare kit for exactly this reason).
And Indra threw up spectacularly after eating three chocolate bars for breakfast (her mother would need a polite phone call).
Until it was break time.
She stood at the edge of the playground, one eye on the children playing tag and the other on the small figure sitting alone by the fence. Jamie Long. Eight years old, dark hair that always seemed to need cutting, and a tendency to try and make himself as small as possible.
Two weeks since term had started, and whilst Annabelle knew that some children needed a few weeks to settle in, Jamie seemed to be retreating further into himself.
No friends. No smiles. He did his work quietly and never caused any trouble, which meant he was exactly the sort of child who could slip through the cracks if you weren't paying attention.
But Annabelle was paying attention.
"Want to come play football?" she called over to him, keeping her voice light and friendly.
Jamie looked up, startled, then shook his head and went back to staring at his shoes.
"That's alright," Annabelle said warmly. "Maybe tomorrow."
She didn't push it. Maybe he needed a bit of time. Jamie would come out of his shell eventually. She was sure of it. Sometimes it was just a matter of finding the right thing to spark a child's interest.
Nina appeared at her elbow, slightly out of breath. "Miss Swift? Gemma's saying that Oliver pushed her, but Oliver says he didn't, and now they're both crying."
Annabelle sighed and headed over to mediate. Just another Monday morning.
BY LUNCHTIME, ANNABELLE was more than ready for a cup of tea. She headed to the staffroom, where Lily was already sitting at the small table, peering at paperwork through a pair of glasses that the headmistress was generally too vain to wear in public.
"Afternoon," Lily said without looking up. "How's Year Three?"
"Delightful as always." Annabelle flicked on the kettle and leaned against the counter. "Though I'm a bit worried about Jamie Long. He's still not socializing at break time."
"Mmm. Might have a word with his mum about that, Kayley, her name is."
"On my list of things to do," Annabelle beamed.
"Keep an eye on him, but don't push too hard," Lily advised, finally glancing up. "Some kids need space to process things."
"I know, I know." Annabelle poured hot water into her mug, watching the tea bag bob to the surface. "I just want to help."
"You always do." Lily's voice was fond, but there was a hint of something else in it. Concern, maybe. "Speaking of which, when Daisy delivered the post this morning she was all agog with the news of our new resident."
"Oh, I’d almost forgotten." Annabelle spun around, nearly sloshing tea everywhere. "Yes! Right next door to me! I haven't met them yet, but I made a welcome basket. I'm going to take it round this evening."
Lily raised an eyebrow. "A welcome basket."
"Lemon biscuits, jam, honey, flowers. It's friendly."
"It's very you." Lily set down her red pen and leaned back in her chair. "Just promise me you won't overwhelm the poor… whoever it is. Not everyone wants to be immediately adopted into Bankton life."
"I'm not overwhelming," Annabelle protested. "I'm welcoming!"
"You once threw a surprise party for the dustman because you found out it was his birthday."
"Daisy told me he loved cake!"
"He was terrified."
"He enjoyed it once he calmed down," Annabelle said firmly. "Everyone loves a warm welcome, Lily. It makes people feel valued. Wanted. Like they belong."
Lily's expression softened. "I know. And that's one of the things I love about you. Just maybe start with the basket and see how it goes before you sign her up for the village fête committee, alright?"
"I would never…" Annabelle started, then caught Lily's look. "Alright, fine. Baby steps."
"Baby steps," Lily agreed, picking up her red pen again.
But Annabelle was already thinking about what else she could do to make her new neighbor feel welcome.
"I can see you plotting," Lily said dryly, not looking up from her marking.
"I'm not plotting. I'm planning. There's a difference."
"If you say so."
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Annabelle gulped down the rest of her tea before heading back to the classroom.
BY THE TIME the final bell rang at three-thirty, Annabelle was tired but happy, the way she always was after a good day at school, and most every day was a good day.
She waved goodbye to the children as they poured out into the playground to meet their parents, then turned back to tidy up the classroom.
Nina was already stacking chairs. "Do you need me to stay and help?"
"No, no, you go on. I'll finish up here."
"Are you sure?" But Nina was already grabbing her bag, clearly eager to leave.
"Positive. Have a lovely evening!"
Once Nina had gone, Annabelle took her time straightening desks and wiping down the whiteboard, organizing pencils and returning library books to their proper places. This was her second favorite part of the day, the quiet after the chaos, the satisfaction of a room put back in order.
She thought about Jamie as she worked, about the way he'd smiled when she praised his reading. That was progress. Small, but real. Sometimes that's all you needed, just someone paying attention, someone who cared enough to keep trying.
When everything was tidy, she locked up the classroom and practically skipped out of the school.
There was a welcome basket waiting to be delivered, and she couldn’t wait to find out just who she was delivering it to.