Infinity anchor and rose design

The tide came into the chapel last Tuesday and stood at the second pew, which Mam would have called showing off. I have moved the ledger up to the loft and wrapped the hymn books in oilcloth, though I doubt anyone will sing from them again. Mr Pardoe says the council will drain the lower lanes by spring, and I told him the only thing draining round here is his patience.

You asked whether I still keep the old anchor from the Carrick wharf. I do. It hangs on a nail above the stove, with the chain Dad looped round it the summer he came back from the rigs. We walked it up from the slip together, one link at a time, and he said anything with weight in it could be hauled out of the deep if you were stubborn enough. He used to say a chain run in a loop had no end to it, so you could never truly run out of ways to try.

Last month the lifeboat crew found a rose window in the drowned school, the glass still whole, and a child's satchel with a tin of pastels inside. The pinks had kept their colour. I took one stick home and drew the old loop of chain on the back of a tide chart, the anchor on the left and a rose at the far end, and beneath it the words Dad scratched on the lintel of his shed: I refuse to sink.

Come home at Easter if the ferries run. The kettle is on the stove and the anchor is still hanging, still holding.

Love, Nell