Metallic floral temporary tattoo on ankle

The sheets are the funniest things. Dotted lines in silver, stripes in gold that go green at the edges, and one flower with leaves and feathery fronds that looks like something a cook would pipe onto a cake for the Coronation. I laid one out on the kitchen table and the afternoon light came straight through the paper, so I stuck the flower to the inside of the back window, where it sits now like a little sun that has been ironed flat.

The silver anklet turned up in the wrack below the groyne the morning after the storm. Hung with tiny bells, every one of them full of sand, so it chimed when I lifted it, and I thought somebody would be sorry to lose it. I hung it on the hook by the back door in case anyone came asking, and nobody has. Mrs Dewhurst thinks it's a charm against bad weather. I did not tell her otherwise.

Last night the bells rang out in the yard, three soft notes, and I went down with the lamp. There was nobody there, only the tide creeping over the slipway and a gust that lifted the sheet off the washing line. I've put the anklet back on the step with the last of the gold flowers beside it, weighted with a shell so the wind can't take it. Come down at Easter and tell me whether it was you. Your loving sister, Edie.