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She just had to hope that history didn’t repeat itself.
***
Ben heaved the last of the flatpack shelving into the shop, shut the door, then leaned against it, resting his tired muscles. ‘All those hours spent working out, you’d think unloading shelving would be a breeze. I might even be able to skip my morning workout.’
‘Don’t you dare.’ Poppy glanced up from the floor, where she’d been spreading out the takeaways she’d ordered for dinner. ‘If you mess with those muscles you’ll lose your female customers. Maybe even some of the gentlemen customers too.’
‘I don’t have any customers.’ Ben sank down and began piling rice onto a paper plate, topping it with chicken tikka masala.
‘Not yet. But you will. I can feel it in my bones. By the way, thanks for sourcing the shelving. It’s perfect. The white shelves will look utterly gorgeous on my side, and that wooden shelving will be lush once it’s stained. I found a company who’ll put it all together for us, so we can concentrate on getting the stock sorted.’
‘You mean you’re not going to force Joe and Sophie to put it together?’ Ben forked a spoonful of curry into his mouth and closed his eyes in appreciation. Rich, aromatic… and, most importantly, filling. They hadn’t stopped all day. Cleaning, sourcing products, nailing down the days and times that Joe and Sophie would be working, not to mention what their duties would be. It was tiring work. And there was still so much to do.
Poppy piled her plate high with prawn biryani. ‘There’s no way I’m letting them loose on the shelving. I want it to stand the test of time. And I don’t want to be forking out extra because they’ve not read the instructions properly and screwed it all together the wrong way round and not realised it until it’s too late. Those shelves aren’t the rescrewable type.’
Ben set his plate and fork down and took in the woman before him. The Poppy who’d left would’ve done exactly what she didn’t want Joe and Sophie to do. This Poppy though? She’d been full steam ahead all day, but there was a structure to her ways. And apart from when she’d suggested he make candy-floss cupcakes with little unicorn icing creatures sprinkled on top for any kids who came into the tea shop, he’d been on board with all her suggestions. Any lingering worries he had about opening his shop side-by-side with hers were beginning to evaporate.
Poppy crossed her legs and let out a sigh, her shoulders inching down. ‘God, it’s good to relax, finally. It’s been go-go-go all day. Heck, it’s been go-go-go since I decided to come home. We haven’t even had a proper catch up. We need to remedy that. So, Ben, tell me about your life. Is there anyone special who’s currently resenting you for spending all your spare hours with me at the shop? Has a pearl-clutcher finally scooped you up? Are you keeping her from me in case the Poppy-curse sees another potential wife bite the dust?’
‘You give yourself too much credit.’ Ben tore off a piece of naan and ran it through the gravy. ‘And what on earth is a pearl-clutcher?’
‘Really? You don’t know? A pearl-clutcher is your ideal woman. A woman who likes things to be done the correct way. Who can’t bare the idea of messing with tradition, of breaking the rules.’ Poppy’s hand flew to her throat. Her eyes widened in horror. ‘You’d never believe what I saw the other day. It was shocking, I tell you, shocking. Meredith from down the road put her milk bottle in the rubbish bin. Not the recycling bin. Can you believe it? Terrible. Has she no heart?’
‘Who’s Meredith?’ Ben reached for the bottle of red wine Poppy had placed on the floor along with two plastic cups and poured them each a half-glass. Enough to be enjoyed, but not enough to render them useless at work the next day. ‘And why do you care so much about what she does with rubbish?’
‘Meredith is your ideal woman. A bona fide pearl-clutcher. She is prim. She is proper. She is easily outraged. She would always recycle anything that could be recycled, and anyone who doesn’t is an ingrate, in Meredith’s opinion.’
‘Well, it’s nice that she cares so much.’ Ben took a sip, then set the glass down. ‘Do you recycle all that can be recycled, Poppy?’
‘Of course I do.’ Poppy shovelled a forkful of food into her mouth.
‘And would you be outraged if you saw someone flout your recycling rules?’ Ben covered his mouth with his hand so Poppy wouldn’t see the amusement that was threatening to make its way onto his lips.
Poppy nodded. Then shook her head. Then hastily swallowed. ‘Oh no you don’t, Ben. I will not have you insinuating that I’m a pearl-clutcher. No way. Not going to happen. The difference between me and a pearl-clutcher is that I wouldn’t get all vocal about seeing someone do something I consider outrageous.’
‘Really? I’d have thought you’d march up to them and give them a lecture about saving the environment one recyclable at a time. Kind of like you did to my mum when you were hell-bent on joining Greenpeace and doing everything you could to ensure the… how did you put it?’
Poppy shut her eyes and groaned. ‘“The health and safety of the earth and all its residents”. Are you ever going to let me forget that? And you can drop your hand, I know you’re laughing at me.’
Ben did as he was told, holding back a snort-laugh when Poppy flicked him the two-fingered salute. ‘Well you went through our rubbish and separated everything out and made Mum solemnly swear that she’d never let a recyclable into the bin again. It was the funniest thing. I think she fell a bit in love with you that day.’ That made two of us. Ben pushed the thought away. There was no point in entertaining feelings from the past. They’d gotten him nowhere then, they weren’t going to get him anywhere now. He had to get his brain off this thought track, and the best way to do that was to change the subject. ‘Interesting bracelet, Poppy. Where’d you get it?’
‘This old thing?’ Poppy held up a bronze chain filled with charms.
Amongst the collection, Ben spotted a koala, a rugby ball, a tiny pizza slice, a water buffalo. A random assortment, yet somehow on Poppy it worked.
‘It’s just how I keep track of where I’ve been. A charm for every town or country I’ve visited. And don’t try and distract me from our conversation, Ben. Let’s get back to you.’ Her bracelet jangled as she pointed in his direction. ‘Now, tell me, why isn’t there a Meredith in your life? To be honest I was surprised you and Milly didn’t get back together after I left. She was a Meredith all the way.’
‘Milly was a bit of a Meredith. Although she sounds like she’s loosened up.’ Ben folded the gravy through the rice.
‘“Sounds”? Are you two still in contact?’ Poppy picked up a napkin and wiped at a splodge of red gravy that had nestled in the groove of her mouth. ‘All gone?’
‘Not quite.’ Ben took the napkin and patted away another splodge that had landed on her chin, then passed the napkin back to Poppy. ‘You still eat like a starving animal.’
‘Habit of a lifetime.’ Poppy’s lips turned down in what looked like a frown, but in a blink of an eye it was gone, a smile in its place. ‘Anyway, back to Milly. I didn’t know you two still talked.’
‘It’s a recent thing. She called. Said she was going to be in the area. We’ve texted each other a bit.’ Ben gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Anyway, maybe I’m just not in the market for a pearl-clutching Meredith type of woman. Maybe I’d prefer a woman with a bit of fire in her belly. Someone fun, funny, not afraid to take a chance. Someone with a good heart. I don’t suppose you know anyone who fits that description?’
Poppy leaned forward, a gleam in her eyes. ‘Not off the top of my head, but maybe I could help you find her. We could load up some dating apps onto your phone. Go through the prospects together. It’d be great fun!’ Poppy looked around the shop. ‘Where’s your phone? Let’s put together a profile and get you out there.’ She leaned over to snatch up the phone lying at his side, groaning as Ben whipped it up before she could get her hands on it.
‘Let’s not, Poppy.’ Ben tucked the phone in his back pocket, well out of reach of Poppy’s grabby hands. ‘I know you’ll think me boring. Too traditional. But I like the idea of meeting a girl the old-fashioned way. Like, at a bar, or at the shops, or when I’m jogging in the park.’
‘You mean you want a romantic movie type meeting?’ Poppy stroked her chin and gazed into the distance. ‘Maybe I could go places with you and you could point out women that you like the look of and I could maybe throw you in front of them and make it looked like you tripped?’
Air-sucking frustration built in Ben’s chest. He had to shut this down. The last person he wanted to talk about love with was the only woman he’d ever fallen for. The one woman he’d had to work hard to get over. ‘You know, I could ask the same of you, Pops. You haven’t mentioned anyone, so I’m guessing there’s no man in your life?’
‘God, no.’ Poppy gagged. ‘No boyfriend. I don’t do boyfriends. At least, I don’t do the serious ones.’ Poppy visibly shuddered. ‘I’m always honest with any man who shows interest. I tell them I am in it for a fun time, not a long time. I tell them if I see a hint of their wanting more then I’m out.’
‘But why? What have you got against relationships?’ Ben set his fork down. Something was wrong. Off. He couldn’t believe that Poppy with her big, kind heart didn’t do relationships.
‘It’s quite simple. I don’t believe in them because I don’t believe in that kind of love.’ Poppy took a sip of her wine and set it down with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Stop looking so freaked out, it’s no big deal.’
‘No big deal? But you were just trying to get me dating. Marry me off. How can someone who doesn’t believe in love do that?’
‘I was just trying to inject some fun in your life, Ben. Not love. Besides, you’re the marrying type. The type who’d make it work even once what you thought was love died out. People do it all the time. They stay together for financial reasons. Or because they know no better. Or out of stubbornness. Not for love. Love is really just a bunch of hormones racing around your body that make you hook up with someone so that babies can be made and the human race gets to continue. Love’s really just a giant myth as far as I’m concerned. A fairy tale to keep you warm at night.’
Ben pushed his plate away, his appetite as existent as Poppy’s belief in happy-ever-afters. ‘How can you say it’s a myth? My mother and father have stuck it out through thick and thin for over thirty-five years. They’re proof that love exists.’
‘But that’s the thing. You just said it yourself. They’ve “stuck it out”. If love was real you wouldn’t have to stick it out. And it’s not like my parents are the best example. My father left before I was born. And my mother…’ Poppy paused as colour flooded her cheeks, and her eyes drifted to the window. The look in her juniper-green eyes was as dark as the night sky. ‘Well, she wasn’t the best role model.’
Ben wanted to ask why, but Poppy’s taut jaw told him she wasn’t about to elaborate. He checked the time on his watch. Nearly eleven. He had to be up in a few hours to get his morning swim and workout in. Needed that time to plan out his day. To figure out what had to be done, and the best way to do it. But he didn’t want to leave Poppy like this. All twisted and tortured by some aspect of her past that she clung to. That haunted her. He had to go, but before he did he wanted to see the sadness in Poppy’s eyes recede, to see them brighten once more.
‘You know, Pops, you may not believe in love, but I know you believe in friendship. And I probably should have said this when we decided… well, when we were kind of forced into business together. But I’m glad you’re back, Poppy. Really glad.’ Ben raised his cup. ‘To the rekindling of a beautiful relationship.’
Poppy’s jaw relaxed as she raised her cup. ‘To a beautiful friendship. One where I won’t have to worry about you going all lovey-dovey on me. The best kind.’ The shine returned to her eyes, as her ever-present inner light beat off the dark. ‘The only kind.’
‘Indeed. The only kind.’ Ben clinked his cup against Poppy’s and ignored the stab her words had brought to his gut. Indigestion. That was all it was. All it could possibly be.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_cda9d7b6-319f-5494-bf8d-5e05547b0d5a)
The sight of towering boxes, threatening to topple over, sent an army of ants marching through Poppy’s stomach.
There was so much to unpack. So much to set up. And such little time to do it.
Although the way the tower was teetering, there was a chance one floor-shuddering step would see her die under a box avalanche.
Death by unicorn.
How ironic would it be if her demise was caused by that which was meant to be the start of the rest of her life?
‘What was I thinking getting myself into this? I must be mad.’
Poppy’s lips quirked in amusement at Ben’s self-chastisement. He mustn’t have heard her arrive minutes before.
Connect automatic door chime.
Another thing to do on a list that seemed to get longer the closer they got to opening their joint venture.
‘I heard that,’ she called in a sing-song lilt. Her quirked lips spread into a cheek-stretching smile as a curse met her ears.
The sound of brisk footsteps on wooden floorboards told her Ben was on his way to apologise.
Bless his cotton socks. He’d always been too nice for his own good.
‘Sorry, Poppy. Didn’t hear you come in.’
Poppy turned to see Ben leaning against the doorway that led to the kitchen, his hands shoved deep into rust-red chinos that were as perfectly pressed as his blue and white checked short-sleeved collared shirt. Poppy glanced down at his brown leather loafers. Not a scuff in sight. Her tummy did a little flip-flop. Ben looked good. Better than good. The way he was dressed, the way his hair was just so, he could’ve come straight from a fashion shoot.
‘I didn’t know you were here.’ His cheeks pinked up, no doubt embarrassed to have been caught saying something that could potentially hurt someone’s feelings.
Such a Ben thing to do. He’d always cared. About everything. And everyone. Too much, as far as Poppy was concerned. He’d taken his only-child status seriously. Studying hard. Using his manners. Pleasing his parents in every way possible.
They were total opposites. Perhaps that’s why their friendship had worked. Perhaps that’s why even now after all these years – despite Ben’s apparent misgivings – they still worked.
Poppy grabbed a box cutter from her counter that had been put together then painted a soft lavender two days previously, and ran it along the taped lines of the box closest to her. One of about fifty. The contents within each needed to be unpacked and placed on the shelves in an eye-catching matter.
Not that the eye-catching part would be hard. The holographic, iridescent and glittery materials that made up so much of the stock would certainly draw people’s attention. But would it see them buy what she had to sell?
Yes. It would. It had to. She’d sunk the majority of the money she’d saved while travelling the world into this venture, and there was no way she was returning to her mother’s house, sparkly unicorn cap in hand, asking for a hot meal – or worse, for a bed to crash in until she got herself sorted out. Give her mother another chance to ignore her? To remind Poppy exactly how little her presence on this earth meant to her? Give her a chance to shut the door in her face as she had every time Poppy had come to her bedroom as a child, seeking comfort after a nightmare? That wasn’t going to happen.
‘You’re not going to give me grief for having a moment of second thought?’ Ben took a cautious step into the room. Then another. Until he was within swatting distance. Then sank down beside her, his eyes filled with caution.
Poppy shook her head. ‘’Course not. It’s normal to have freak-outs. I’m having about ten an hour. But every freak-out makes me more determined to make this work.’ She pulled out a tissue-covered package and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a crystal figurine: a unicorn, rearing up, its mane tossing in unseen wind, its horn sparkling with gold and silver glitter.
‘That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.’ Ben’s voice held equal awe and disgust.
Poppy set the figurine down, then punched Ben lightly on the arm. ‘Now that you have to apologise for. How can you say such a thing? That is the epitome of class and sophistication. Every person in Muswell Hill – no, in London – no, I mean England. No.’ She shook her head. ‘Every person in the world needs a crystal unicorn in their life. They could keep it on their car’s dashboard for luck. They could have it by their bedside to keep the nightmares away. They could sit it on their windowsill so the light refracts through it, creating a smile-inducing rainbow.’ Poppy ran her thumb over the gravelly surface of the glittering horn. She smiled as a fragment flaked onto her thumb. ‘Okay, it’s a little bit ugly. But there’s a market for it. Little girls will adore it.’
Ben shook his head, reached into the box, unwrapped another figurine and passed it to Poppy to set on the shelf. ‘Frankly I can’t believe there’s a market for any of it.’
Poppy snorted. ‘Well, at least one of us is going to be happy working next to the other. Not only will I get to be surrounded by the spirit-lifting goodness that are unicorns, I’ll also be able to help myself to a cup of matcha, or Lapsang Souchong, or plain old garden variety breakfast tea with a splash of milk, any time I feel like one. I’m going to be living the dream.’
‘Well at least one of us will be.’ Ben nudged her with his hip, then passed her another box to open. ‘At least I won’t have to go far to buy you a birthday present I know you’ll love.’
‘Oh, shush.’ Poppy lifted her finger to his lips. ‘You know I don’t do birthdays.’
Ben grinned, then took her finger in his hand. ‘We’ll see about that. Now, less talking, more unpacking.’
Poppy wiggled her finger free, grabbed the box cutter and sliced into another box, and pulled out a smaller box. Printed on the side of the plain brown packaging was an image of the unicorn mug held inside. The tail forming the mug’s handle, a swirled golden unicorn horn poked out opposite the handle, and painted on either side of the mug were big black eyes complete with lush, long glitter-dusted lashes.
She pulled up the box’s lid and lifted the mug out. ‘Where should we put this? It would look great next to those fancy double-walled glass teacups of yours…’
Ben held his hands up, as if warding her off. Her, or her unicorn mug. ‘No. No way. We have a deal, remember? Under no circumstances will I be allowing any of that… that uncouth frippery into my side of the business.’
‘Frippery?’ A giggle tumbled out of Poppy’s mouth. ‘Well that’s a new word to me. I like it. And, fine. I won’t put my mugs alongside your precious glassware. I was just testing the waters. Testing the boundaries. You know how I am.’
‘Indeed, I do.’ Ben sighed. ‘So, how do you feel about a tea tasting? Sophie and Joe should be here any minute, and I was going to hold a tasting for them since it’s important they know what they’re talking about.’
‘Hold on. Hold up. What? Joe’s doing the tasting? He’s my helper. Not yours.’ Poppy wagged her finger. ‘I will not have you seducing him with your aromatic ways.’
‘Plonker.’ Ben picked up the crystal unicorn, turned it over in his hands, then held it up to Poppy. ‘If Joe’s sick, and you’re unwell, who do you think will look after your shop?’
Understanding dawned on Poppy. ‘I would say you, but we both know you’d sooner take a dip in the boating lake at Ally Pally in the middle of winter.’
‘Exactly. We need to have Sophie and Joe up to speed on both sides of the shop.’
Ben turned and made his way to the kitchen, Poppy followed in his wake and took in the set-up he’d put together.
Five glass teapots sitting atop warmers, were placed on the bench. Each pot held a strainer, in which different teas were releasing tantalising aromas into the surrounding air. While various colours – grassy greens, vibrant pinks, and mahogany browns – softened as they blended out into the hot water.
The squeak of the door alerted them to the arrival of Sophie and Joe.
Attach door chimes and fix the squeak, Poppy reminded herself, trying to ignore the stepping up of her pulse as another item was added to her list.
‘We’re here,’ Joe announced. ‘On time, too. Look at us being responsible workers. Must mean we’re due a pay rise?’ He winked as Sophie closed her eyes, shaking her head in a long-suffering manner, just the way Poppy had seen Ben do all the time when they were younger.
‘Convince your grandfather to lower the rent by another fifteen per cent and it’s a deal,’ Poppy shot back. ‘In lieu of more money you can have free tea. Look at this spread Ben’s put on for us.’
‘Is it meant to smell like that?’ Joe’s nose wrinkled. ‘I mean, there’s fruity whiffs from that one.’ He pointed to the tea that was blossoming a pinky-red. ‘But that green one’s… weird.’
‘That green one is Japanese green tea. Sencha, to be precise.’ Ben lifted the pot and poured a little into three cups, then passed a cup to each of them. ‘Try it.’
Poppy tried not to laugh as Joe’s face screwed up when he lifted the cup to his lips and sipped. ‘It’s…’
‘Really something,’ Sophie piped up, then took another sip, smacking her lips together. ‘Fresh. Almost zesty.’
Poppy sipped the tea. ‘Kind of grassy, but not in a gross way. And almost… seaweed-ish? Or am I imagining that?’
‘No, you’re not imagining it.’ Ben nodded his approval. ‘It’s all that. And the reason it’s a nice kind of grassy is because it’s quality.’ He rounded up their empty glasses and rinsed them out. ‘Now try this.’ He poured the pinky concoction. ‘This is a fruit tea, also known as a tisane. Tell me what you taste.’
Joe took a sip. ‘Too easy. Strawberry. It’s yum.’
‘And?’ Ben raised an eyebrow.
‘There’s more?’ Sophie set her cup down and tapped her finger on her chin.
‘Apple.’ Poppy grinned. ‘Definitely apple.’
‘You really do have a good nose.’ Ben’s eyes widened. ‘Maybe you should be working on my side of the shop.’
