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He watched her smile stretch further at this, and when she turned to look up at him, he caught the smoky blue of her eyes, and something about her raw vulnerability shot him through.
Shifting, she tossed him a grin. ‘Not sure, just a fact of angel life.’ She began to scramble out of the back of the car.
Result. Or maybe not.
Because now she was pointing at his thigh and wailing. ‘Oh no, I’ve got blood on your trousers…’
‘It’s nothing.’ He looked down at the splodge next to his fly, not sure he could stand the scrutiny.
‘I’m really sorry.’ Her eyes had locked onto his cock. ‘Can I pay for dry cleaning?’
‘Really, not a problem.’ Except there would be if she didn’t stop staring.
She raised her eyes at last and looked at him. ‘I’d better be going then. Thanks…for the stuff…and for looking after my foot.’
Was she hesitating? Fleetingly Xander wondered where she was going next, what she was about to do, who she was going to be with. Whatever, it definitely had nothing to do with him, and he really didn’t want to know.
‘Wait. Do you need a lift anywhere?’ He heard himself make this polite query, and was appalled by his sudden reluctance to see her leave. Any excuse to prolong the contact?
‘Thanks, but I’ve got my own transport round the corner.’ As she limped away she shot a grin over her shoulder. ‘In any case I’d rather have my finger nails pulled out than travel in a Range Rover.’
Xander watched her uneven progress across the site. Just as she was about to reach the gateway, he raised his hand, and shouted after her. ‘Just don’t let this happen again, okay.’
If a voice inside his head was insisting that he wouldn’t mind one bit if it happened again, he really wasn’t going to listen. Automatically he stooped to pick up the rubbish she’d scattered across the dirt when she’d gone through her pockets earlier. Tidying up was futile, but maybe someone needed to start. There was one tattered card in amongst the sweet papers. Vintage at the Cinema. That faded retro font might have come straight from one of his sister Christina’s colour boards. The address rang a bell, probably from a property alert. Due to his spending power, he was first in the agents’ email firing line when new properties came up. The card was in his pocket before he realised. To pass on to Christina, obviously.
When he looked up again, the girl had reached the tall stone gate post. She turned to give him a last defiant smirk, and then a second later she’d disappeared into the dusk.
6 (#ulink_e1b93e16-31a3-5b97-8ed3-81dd4bb3726b)
Thursday Morning, 5th June
DIDA
On the school run
Lunch bags and swear boxes
‘It’s really important to go as fast as you can, please Lolly.’
There were many times when Dida regretted her decision never to use the word “hurry” in the presence of her children, and this morning was one of them. She just had that idea that if she did include it in her vocabulary she’d over use it to the point where no one would take any notice anyway, and somehow she wanted her kids to have the kind of idyllic life where they didn’t ever feel rushed or pressured. This early in the morning her high ideals were still in place for the day, whereas by six o clock in the evening it was a whole different ball game. She’d barely slept the night before, kept awake by the double adrenalin rush of anger and anxiety about the cinema. Then at six am, just as she was dropping off, a text had come through from Aidie about the cinema sale, that had her wide awake with rage. The derogatory way he talked about Vintage at the Cinema as her “playing at shops” made her want to stamp on his head all over again. The only vaguely positive news was that it didn’t sound as if he actually had a buyer in the pipeline, which at least gave them a bit of breathing space. But however shite she was feeling, she must try not to pass her fatigue and irritability on to the kids. She was failing.
‘Who the hell thought it was a good idea, or even possible, to set off on a school trip at eight in the morning anyway. It’s bloody inhuman.’ Damn. Her swear box account for today was already long open and showing a large and unhealthy deficit. ‘Lunch boxes are your responsibility. If you forget them, I won’t be bringing them. Right, jump into the car, and make it snappy.’ Waving her keys in the air as she ran, she clicked the button, and heard the clunk as the car unlocked.
Eric was onto her as he arrived. ‘That’s your fifteenth swear word this morning.’
Dida bristled. ‘You’re counting well for someone who was barely awake enough to eat their Weetabix. Remind me what you’re doing on this trip?’
Eric gave a shrug as he clambered into the front seat, and pulled out an earphone. ‘How should I know, you were the one who was supposed to read the letter.’
Eye roll and head shake to that one. Dida hurled her bag and the lunch boxes onto the seat, then flung open the back door, and shouldered Lolly onto her booster.
Lolly’s squawk of protest left Dida’s ears ringing. ‘Hey mind my wings…’
‘Isn’t that tiara a bit ornate for school?’ Dida grimaced at the Barbie pink crystal clusters as she clicked Lolly’s seatbelt into place and made a dash for the driver’s seat.
Her daughter’s withering stare flagged up the stupidity of the question.
‘Hills and caves.’ Eric sent her a grin as she pushed the key into the ignition.
‘What…?’ Sometimes this boy was so random.
‘Hills and caves, that’s what we’re going to see.’ He fished a crumpled bit of paper out of his bag. ‘The impact of tourism on the physical landscape around Castleton. Remember?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Not entirely.
Dida swung the car around on the gravel drive, then, as it slid between the gateposts, she braked, flipped down her sun visor mirror, and whipped a lippy out of the door pocket. Regardless of how late they were, her first and last rule of the morning was never to leave home without lippy. While Marilyn Munroe said “Give a girl the right shoes and she will conquer the world”, Dida put her faith in lipstick. In her experience you couldn’t underestimate the power of a perfectly applied pout. Not so much of the perfect this morning, but it would have to do. This morning she needed every bit of help she could get. Pursing her mouth onto the red slick of Mac Ruby Woo, she flicked the sun visor back up, then glanced into the rear view mirror, for her second affirmation of the day – a flash of the front facade of Alport Towers. That glimpse of tall sash windows, the mellow coursed stone, and the gently carved parapet, never failed to fill her chest with warmth. This house gave her both a direction and an identity, and this one fleeting snapshot, caught in the mirror each time she left home, reminded her why she was carrying on, and somehow rebalanced her. Today more than most she needed that view, to remind her why she was still here, when Aidie was such a bastard.
She drew in a long breath, and then she nosed the car out through the monumental gateposts, and out onto the main street of Alport. She’d scoop up Luce at school, and head off to Izzy’s to discuss the sale of the cinema. And together, they’d work out a fight strategy.
One lamp post later, Lolly was onto the next thing. ‘Mum, can I have a falabella?’
Dida accelerated through the village, momentarily blocking the thought of the local speed vigilantes, twitching their lace curtains. ‘What the hell’s a falabella?’
‘Sixteen swear words.’ Eric’s triumphant cry morphed to a whine. ‘If she’s having a falabella, I’m definitely having Black Ops…and a new pair of Vans.’
‘No one’s having a bloody falabella, okay?’ Whatever it was, Dida wasn’t about to buy one. Full stop.
‘Seventeen…and it’s not even half past seven. You may be heading for a swear record here.’
Dida took a deep breath, counted to ten, and reached to push on the stereo. She wasn’t used to being under fire from Eric. She viewed the weekdays as ceasefire time. Hopefully Radio One might shut them up. Calvin Harris, she could cope with. As for lyrics about falling in love and lying cheats…
Talking of Aidie, there was something niggling her which she needed to get onto as soon as she had a minute. So many of the names of the women Aidie saw were full of V’s, and they all sounded vaguely similar. Logged on her spread sheet like some Soviet birth register, they were bound to become a blur. She’d have checked it last night if she hadn’t been so preoccupied, but thinking about it this morning, she had a feeling she might have seen one of the names before. Not that there was anything for her to worry about, it was completely feasible for two women in Lithuania to have the same name. But one area where Aidie was completely reliable, was that he always dated a different woman every time – that was his trademark thing – and she derived some strange kind of security from knowing that he wasn’t deviating from the norm.
Dida zoomed through the lights on amber, slowing down as she turned along Derwent Street. Snatching a sideways glance, and checking out the shop windows of Vintage at the Cinema gave her a thrill every time, but this morning the monster For Sale sign hanging high on the wall above the door turned her heart to ice.
‘What the hell…?’ Three shops further along the road she jumped on the brakes, and the car behind screeched to a halt inches from her back windscreen. The spray tan shop had changed overnight. Yesterday it was a plain shop front albeit one that was adorned with tacky ads for fast bronzing. Now there was brown paper on the windows, but, way, way worse, was the sign that said Heart your retro home? Watch this space!.
‘You need to learn more swear words Mum, Miss Raymond in English says repeating yourself is a sign your brain is stagnating.’
‘Thanks Eric, I’ll bear that in mind.’ Ball ache bastard fucking assholes to Miss Raymond. And ditto to whoever was taking over the tanning shop with what looked like more competition, right under their noses. That was all they needed, as if they didn’t have enough problems already.
Lolly piped up from the back. ‘A falabella would stop my brain smating.’
‘Definitely not proven, Lolly.’ Dida banged the car into first gear, and with a squeal of tyres that left the passing postman on the pavement open mouthed, they roared off in the direction of High Hills School.
Somewhere along the line, preferably later rather than sooner, Dida was going to have to find out for herself what a sodding falabella was.
7 (#ulink_7fd40c7a-458b-5f08-bcda-5e3143b8a210)
Thursday Morning, 5th June
LUCE, DIDA & IZZY
At Izzy’s house
It sounds like a plan
‘Brace yourself for fighting talk, I hope Izzy’s got the coffee on.’ Luce took a deep breath, as Dida swung the car into Albert Street, and pulled up next to an ornate lamp post. Luce and Dida got out of the car, turned in at the smart grey gate, and picked their way along the neat herringbone brick path. The lofty Victorian semi’s, with their tight plots, and steep patches of garden were popular for divorcees, offering lots of space at half the price of the more desirable family areas. Izzy’s mum had landed here years ago, along with her four kids, and this was where they’d stuck.
Knocking on the door, they watched Izzy’s shadow approach through the frosted glass. The number eight, cut out on the fanlight etching, impressed Luce whenever she came here, with its clean modern lines, but then Izzy’s whole place was like that. It was so obvious that Izzy’s absent mum was a whizz at interior design. What’s more, Luce never failed to be amazed that Izzy managed to have so many of the rooms full of junk in the course of her renovations, without appearing to make a mess of anything except herself.
‘How’s you? Half past eight, and already painting I see.’ Luce, bobbing towards Izzy’s ear, got a blast of candy-sweet scent from her hair. Air kissing might be frowned on, but for today it was the only way to avoid the paint smears on Izzy’s cheeks.
‘Pretty pink geraniums.’ Dida said, strangely quiet this morning, stroked the petals in the planter, as if she was on remote control.
Izzy stood by the open door, ushering them in with the wave of a paintbrush. No doubt she was using work to take her mind of the bigger problems.
‘I got the plants from the market in the park yesterday.’ Izzy nudged her visitors further into the hall. ‘That bright fuscia colour reminded me of the prom dress you made me Luce. That giant peony print was so awesome wasn’t it?’
Izzy had arrived in sixth form, traumatised by being forced away from her prissy private school. It had taken a month of working with Luce at the local coffee shop before she’d thawed out enough to dare to speak, but shortly after they were best-friends-forever.
Izzy raised an eyebrow at Luce. ‘I got up early to paint. I’ll tell you about last night’s haul later.’ As Izzy led them down the stairs to the basement kitchen, the scent of warm baking met them head on. ‘Don’t worry, the kettle’s on, caffeine’s on its way.’
‘Something smells delish.’ Luce was regularly in a state of open mouthed awe at Izzy’s drive, and her capacity to obsess over both work and home. Whereas Luce had one small girl and a tiny flat to look after, since Izzy’s mum had headed off on her extended four year holiday, Izzy had been in full charge of this big house and her three brothers. And it wasn’t just the brothers Izzy ran around after. She invariably ran around after everyone else too, including Luce and Ruby.
Today, most of Izzy’s rampant strawberry blonde curls were caught up in a high ponytail that left her dimples on full show. Standing at the work top, in faded T-shirt, thumbs looped through the straps of her gigantic dungarees, she looked particularly childlike and vulnerable, which just showed you shouldn’t be taken in by appearances. Izzy’s inner Rottweiler was something she channelled on a regular basis.
‘New cups on the dresser too I see.’ Dida made more distracted comments, as she raked her hands through her hair. ‘What’s the khaki coloured stuff on the table?’
Izzy picked up a square plate. ‘They’re Susie Cooper, like you asked for on your email, unearthed from the back of Ollie’s garage. I think they came from that house clearance he did with you Luce, just before he left.’
‘Possibly.’ Luce gave a shrug, and took in the familiar calm shades of the long spacious kitchen, which all looked as if it might have happened entirely by accident, except Luce and Dida both knew better. Luce tried to ignore how it felt a little bit sadder and so much emptier now Ollie wasn’t here, with his blustery banter, and boyish grin.
‘Wow, lovely detail on this.’ Dida ran her hand over the carving on the half pained sideboard which stood on a dust sheet at one end of the long kitchen, then sank onto one of the cream painted chairs.
Three guys to run around after, and Izzy still managed to keep the place immaculate. At least there had been three before Ollie headed off so suddenly. If only Luce had handled things differently, and hadn’t stuffed up so spectacularly, he’d be here to help them now. It wasn’t that Luce ever felt the need for a guy. But Ollie not being here made her realise that if he had been, she’d have been very grateful for his reassurance. Something about his broad shoulders and laid back attitude had made him a very comfortable person to share her troubles with.
‘Thanks for that, I bloody need it.’ Dida took the steaming mug Izzy handed her.
‘Anyone fancy a cronut? They’re what happens when a croissant meets a donut.’ Izzy didn’t wait for a reply, but slammed two down in front of each of them. ‘The holes in the middle are calorie free, and I’m hoping they’ll help us with our brain work.’ She licked a flake off her finger.
Luce broke off a piece of pastry to nibble. ‘These taste amazing.’
‘So…’ Dida swallowed as Izzy sat down, and her chest heaved under her topaz cashmere cardi.
Luce braced herself as Dida began to speak.
‘First I need to say sorry, this fiasco is my fault for so many reasons.’ Dida puffed her cheeks out. ‘If I hadn’t made a fuss about the birthday celebrations, Aidie would never have noticed how well we were doing. And I should never have let the peppercorn rent go on long term, I should have negotiated a proper lease with Aidie a lot earlier. So I’m truly sorry for all those things.’
Izzy’s nostrils flared. ‘This is like bloody déjà vu, It’s taking me right back to when my dad left – it’s all about one guy with money, who is calling the shots, and having the control, and the power to take everything away. Only this time instead of my dad screwing the family over, it’s Aidie ripping Vintage at the Cinema away from us.’ The volume rose as she spat out the words. ‘I hated it then, and I hate it now, but this time I’m older, and I’m damned if I’m going down without a fight.’
Luce took in the thunderous look on Izzy’s face. The fiery anger, that so often got Izzy into trouble, could be just what they needed.
Izzy was in full rant mode. ‘I can’t believe I’ve let it happen again. If anyone should have learned, it’s me. All this time I’ve been congratulating myself, and thinking I was standing on my own two feet, when all the time our happiness was in the hands of someone like Aidie, who only cared about the bottom line and who is now about to take it all away.’
Luce chewed her lip. ‘Good points, but we need to move forwards. So what are we going to do?’
Dida gave a grimace. ‘The good news is, I reckon we might have a month or two before Aidie finds a buyer, and after that the conveyance will take time. It’s possible that anyone who buys might give us a lease, or, if we put together a really attractive offer, Aidie might even be tempted to give us one himself instead of selling. But we need to get our act together, and we’ll need to sort out a business loan.’
‘Right.’ Izzy and Luce both nodded.
Dida opened her iPad. ‘So, we need to pull out all the stops, maximise the income from the business, and get our hands on as much cash as we can.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘Any ideas?’
Izzy sat up, and folded her arms through her dungaree straps. ‘We need to do everything we can to get more customers in. I’m thinking stand up signs out in the street, pushing the Facebook page, improving the website…and we could also do free coffee.’
‘Great. Free coffee is a brilliant idea. It’ll pull people in, and they’ll buy cake to go with it too.’ Dida’s lips, pursing into a determined red line, gave Luce the idea this was only the start.
‘I’ll need to do more analysis of our figures, for a loan application.’ Dida narrowed her eyes. ‘It would be great to know the seasonal breakdown of turnover for different types of stock too. That way if we survive long-term, we can make sure we’re providing what the customer is searching for. That would work for sales, as well as happy shoppers. How’s your customer service thing going Luce?’
Luce looked up. ‘Well, what about broadening out and offering extras, like deliveries? There’s other stuff we could do too.’
When they’d first moved into the cinema building, they were only the second antique shop on the road, but as more shops selling old stuff opened up, filling the cluster of un-let units on the street, the customers had arrived too.
Luce went on. ‘These days Derwent Street on a Saturday afternoon is swarming with thirty somethings with their designer push chairs, out trawling all the shops. We’re a retro destination, but we need to make sure the hordes come to us.’
Dida took a swig of coffee. ‘What was Ollie’s name for them?’
Luce remembered, with a twist in her stomach, how often Ollie had made her laugh about this.
To her relief Izzy chimed in. ‘He called them DRRABs. Dressed up, Rabidly Running After Bargains, or something like that.’ Izzy gave a grimace. ‘Geeks in tweeds and designer specs, scouring the shops for the perfect piece to complement their retro styled lives. Not that I’m knocking them, their tweedy pounds are phenomenal for business.’
Dida tapped her pen on the table. ‘The point is, the more we offer people, in terms of service, and variety of what we sell, the more likely they are to spend with us rather than the other shops.’ She frowned as she considered. ‘That’s the other news, this morning I spotted another potential vintage store opening in the tanning place.’ She added a huge eye roll. ‘I’ll send an email to the rest of our crew and see if anyone knows any more.’
Luce hesitated, then decided to take the plunge. ‘Talking about quality stock, are you going on a buying trip to France this summer Izzy?’
There was a long silence. Luce knew this was something Izzy usually did with Ollie.
Her friend pulled a face. ‘I hadn’t thought of going on my own…’ She hesitated. ‘But I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime I promise to keep my motor mouth under control with the customers, although the swear box takings might drop.’ She sent Luce a wry grin.
Luce drew in a breath. Pushing the business was going to mean them all pushing themselves out of their comfort zones. It was going to be a challenge, but wasn’t challenge supposed to be good for you?
‘One more thing…’ Dida turned to Luce. ‘I know your clothes and textiles do really well, but it would be brilliant if you moved the bridal side out of your flat, and into the cinema. Wouldn’t the projection room work brilliantly as a Vintage Bridal Studio?’
Luce opened and closed her mouth without any sound coming out. Her bridal sideline had been growing, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for such a big step.
Izzy cut in. ‘That’s a fabulous idea. It would be great for the business, and for you too Luce.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Luce was hesitating, although she didn’t know why. It was a great opportunity, and another step back towards being a real person, and not just a mum. ‘I have some “vintage look” wedding dress designs that are almost ready too, but…’ There were times when she kicked herself for not daring to be more ambitious and confident. So much for moving out of their comfort zones.
