by Heidi Swain
I banged the window shut, sat down and reached inside my sewing bag. Having decided not to drive down to London, I had the opportunity to dedicate the journey to working on the crocheted mice with long tails which were my current little project. I had already made a whole family of them in different sizes, in the hope that I could introduce them at the Cherry Tree crochet circle I’d been planning, but I figured they would feel just as much at home in the city as they were in the town.
‘Oh these are precious!’ Heather squeaked mouse-like herself, as she scooped them up off the counter when I finally arrived.
Deborah was more reserved and discerning and took her time scrutinising the stitches and finish before pronouncing with a smile that they were ‘beautifully constructed’ and ‘ideal for beginners’.
‘That’s what I hoped,’ I explained. ‘I thought they would be just the thing for a crochet taster session.’
‘I agree,’ Deborah said. ‘Quick to finish and pretty to look at. Far more interesting than the square mats for the dressing table that I made when I was learning.’
I had hailed a taxi and gone straight to the Crafting Café when the train arrived, keen to see the place in all its glory on a busy weekday afternoon. A knit and natter session was in full swing and the place was buzzing with cake, conversation and customers popping in off the street. I was thrilled to find Heather behind the counter looking much the same as she always had, only on this occasion being fussed over by Deborah rather than vice versa.
‘I’ve set out all the books in the back office,’ Deborah told me keenly, ‘and the accounts. Access all areas, Lizzie, and if there’s anything I haven’t covered just give me a shout, OK?’
‘OK,’ I smiled nervously.
‘Right, we’ll leave you to it then!’
It felt strange being in the store in my capacity as potential owner. I browsed around, pulling books off shelves, fabric samples from rolls and various kits and remnants from the sale crates and all under the watchful eye of my two friends. Front of house was the area I really loved and in which I felt most comfortable, but I knew I couldn’t put off trying to get my head around the managerial aspect and eventually I ducked into the office feeling something of a fraud.
I sat at Deborah’s organised desk and ran my fingers down the columns and columns of neat, pristine figures and stared at the screen, equally neat, that displayed the more recent accounts and bills. The reality and enormity associated with running the Café struck me like a hammer blow.
This was all a far cry from setting up a few tables and teaching someone how to sew in a straight line. If I bought the place, assuming the bank would lend me enough to make up the initial fifty per cent; I wouldn’t know what to do with all this. The whole point of starting small was to find my feet and make my own way, wasn’t it? I had no idea about what half of the figures and columns meant. I jumped as Heather knocked on the door and appeared with a laden lunch tray.
‘I know it all looks a bit complicated, Lizzie,’ she said astutely, ‘but it isn’t really and we’ll be around until you get the hang of things. Deborah’s very keen that you shouldn’t feel overwhelmed by it all. She’s planning a smooth and steady handover with everything explained, everything ship-shape and as simple as possible, and of course we have a great accountant.’
I nodded and took a bite of the delectable smoked-salmon sandwich she offered me.
‘This place is all about passion,’ she beamed as she poured me a much needed cup of tea. ‘Passion for sewing and crafts, and I know you’ve got that in abundance, along with your amazing skills, of course. We really believe you can take this place further, Lizzie. You’re young, with fresh ideas and a whole new perspective and understanding about what people want. Those little mice of yours for a start.’
‘They were just an idea,’ I said, ‘something a bit different.’
‘Exactly! Different ideas are just what this place needs to attract new customers! Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing amiss with our current customer base and turnover, but it’s time for a clean sweep and we’re sure you’re just the broom the place needs!’
By the end of the afternoon I was feeling more settled in my mind, but I still wasn’t prepared to make a final decision.
‘I’m sorry I’m taking so long.’
Deborah shook her head.
‘I wouldn’t think much of you if you weren’t! If you’d rushed in here this morning and told me you were ready to sign on the dotted line I’d have turned you away.’
‘Really?’
‘Really!’ she boomed. ‘Please don’t worry about taking your time. The only stipulation I have is that you’ll keep on the kitchen and waiting staff if you do go ahead. They’re a good crew and all hard workers. I’d hate to think of any of them being out of work.’
‘Of course,’ I nodded and smiled.
It was a real jolt to acknowledge that taking on the business would also make me responsible for the livelihoods of a small army of staff. If I cocked this up it wouldn’t be just my neck on the line.
I had hoped to stay with Henry again during my visit but, like mine, his life had moved on since we last met and I was thrilled to hear about the new love in his life.
‘I’m sorry I won’t be here, Lizzie,’ he told me when I phoned to ask if I could stay. He sounded far from sorry, but I didn’t mind. To be honest it was a relief to hear him sounding so happy. ‘I’ve met this girl, you see, and we’re planning to go away for a few days.’
We chatted at length about Cass, the new girl in his life and touched briefly on work, which finally seemed to be shaking down after all the recent upheaval.
‘We’ll catch up soon, though,’ he promised. ‘The last thing I want to do is lose touch.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Have a lovely break, Henry.’
Fortunately there was a Premier Inn not too far from the Café so I booked myself in there. Deborah and Heather had offered to accommodate me in their little house but I needed some space; some time away from the intensity of the situation to gain a little perspective.
Once I was cocooned in my room and had enjoyed a refreshing shower I decided, as I was still full from my lunch at the Café, that I didn’t want any dinner. I sat on the bed surrounded by paperwork and lists, a tinge of excitement and enthusiasm staving off the fear that had threatened to engulf me earlier and send me scurrying home.
Now I knew Deborah and Heather weren’t going to disappear without a trace as soon as I took over I felt much better, and my mind was awash with potential plans and ideas. I knew they would help set my course steady and true and then only retreat like Dad had when he took the stabilisers off my bike. He had held on tight until he was sure I could manage to do it on my own and I knew that Deborah and Heather would be the same when it came to the business.
I eagerly read through my plethora of lists and began prioritising jobs. The Café had no online presence beyond the details the agent had posted and that was one of the first things I wanted to address. A buzzing Twitter account would help spread the word and was vital for modern day networking. The shop décor needed a bit of updating as well. The place was looking more than a little jaded but with some new lighting and a fresh lick of paint I could drag it into the new crafting era, no problem.
With television programmes such as the Great British Sewing Bee currently topping the ratings there was no time to lose. I only had to think of the positive impact the small changes the Cherry Tree had had, to realise the potentiality that a makeover offered.
I tried to make a rough estimate of how much my sketchy plans would cost. As ever with every new venture, money was an issue, whether it was a couple of thousand as Jay needed or a figure with a few more zeros attached. If it all worked out, I might even consider offering Jay some space to display his frames, I thought charitably, just to show there were no hard feelings. If I really could pull this off then his sneaky little chat with Jemma might turn out to be most fortuitous for me and it wa
s only fair I repaid the compliment.
I looked down the list of figures I had come up with and sighed. No matter how well I could sew and paint and no matter how much I wanted to make a success of this venture, if I couldn’t find the money then I’d be sunk.
My phone started buzzing and I reached down the side of the bed to pull it out of my bag. I could see the unread messages were piling up but I ignored them and checked the caller ID. My parents’ number flashed on the screen and I answered, thinking it would be Mum making sure I had reached my destination safe and sound.
‘Lizzie?’
‘Hey Dad, is everything OK?’
Funnily enough it hadn’t been Dad who I’d gone running to when Ben had left me shell-shocked, it was Mum. I’d begged her not to say anything to Dad until I left.
‘But that’s silly, Elizabeth,’ she scolded, ‘you haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘But it doesn’t feel like that to me,’ I confessed. ‘If I hadn’t been tempted by Giles and his flashy ways in the first place then none of this other mess would have happened, would it?’
‘Well, perhaps not,’ she said honestly, ‘but that has nothing to do with the fact that Jemma and Tom believed what Jay said without even asking for your side of the story, does it?’
‘I guess not.’
‘And it doesn’t alter the fact that they knew that Ben had been in a relationship with this Natasha person. I think you’ve got every right to feel upset, darling.’
It was shocking to have my mother agreeing with me but she was absolutely right; my feelings were more than justified. I didn’t think I could trust any of them any more. They’d all had endless opportunities to tell me that the woman in Ben’s life had been Natasha before he buggered off to Spain and they hadn’t said a word. I felt like their second choice, knowing they’d promised to keep such a secret, and now this added business with Jay had pushed me right down the friendship list.
‘Everything’s fine,’ Dad said, ‘apart from the fact that you aren’t here and I’ve only just found out why.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ I winced, biting my lip. ‘Don’t blame Mum. She said I should tell you, but I felt such an idiot, I just had to get away.’
‘But you haven’t done anything wrong.’
I had. I’d given Giles my heart on a plate and now I was being made to pay the price. Not only had our break-up cost me my job, it had also cost me my friends, my home, my business and the man who I’d spent my formative years imagining would be the love of my life.
‘Oh, Dad,’ I sighed, ‘I think you and I both know that’s not true.’
‘Well maybe, but that isn’t why I’ve called you. Your mother’s warned me not to go on about it,’ he confessed. ‘So, this place you’re visiting in London,’ he continued, ‘is this the kind of thing you really want?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Mum says it’s a bit like the Cherry Tree on steroids; has she got that right?’
‘Yes,’ I laughed, ‘I suppose she has. It’s pretty much the same, just on a much larger scale, that’s all. There’s an empty flat above which is also larger and if I needed to I could rent out the spare bedroom to bring in some extra income.’
‘Have you thought about how you could fund the purchase?’
I explained about the change of plan Deborah had come up with.
‘In that case why don’t you let me loan you the money for the first fifty per cent?’ Dad offered. ‘Interest free.’
‘No!’ I gasped. ‘I couldn’t let you do that.’
‘Of course you could!’ he laughed. ‘It really is ridiculous having the money sitting in the bank doing nothing when it could be put to good use.’
‘But what would Mum say?’
‘Actually it was her idea. Look, I know it’s a lot to think about, so sleep on it, OK? Go back tomorrow and have another look and we’ll talk again soon. How does that sound?’
‘OK,’ I whispered, ‘thanks, Dad.’
Compared to the Cherry Tree, the flat above the Crafting Café felt colossal. The living and kitchen area was open plan and overlooked the road at the front whilst the two double bedrooms and bathroom were situated at the back. I guessed the plan had been to make the sleeping areas quieter, but even with the triple glazed windows firmly shut you could still hear the noise and bustle of the road. Every window was overlooked and there was no outside space.
‘I imagine this feels a bit different to the Cherry Tree,’ Heather ventured as she showed me around, ‘but to be honest you’ll be so busy you’ll hardly ever be up here!’
She was right, of course. The Café was going to keep me on my toes, but I couldn’t help thinking about my little sitting-room fire and the vintage kitchen units that I had become so fond of. Even with all my creative acumen I couldn’t imagine this open, blank space ever feeling like home.
‘And having enough space to share is a real bonus,’ Heather rushed on. ‘I can’t think why Deborah never let the place on a permanent basis before instead of going in for the few troublesome short-term tenancies we’ve had. It seems silly now to have had it empty for practically all this time!’
I nodded in agreement as I tried to imagine myself living here with some other girl. But I didn’t really want to live with some other girl; I liked living on my own. If a song I loved came on the radio, I could dance about like a loon in my underwear and no one was any the wiser. I wouldn’t be able to do that with some young executive watching my every move.
‘So what do you think?’ Heather asked.
‘I think it would be fine,’ I replied. ‘I’d probably want to see how I felt living on my own initially, give the place a bit of a spruce up and then think about letting out the spare room.’
‘Good idea,’ Heather beamed, patting my arm. ‘No harm in giving yourself a bit of time to settle in. Are you staying for the day?’
‘Yes,’ I smiled nervously, ‘and travelling home later, but first I have to pay a call.’
Chapter 26
When I had called Henry and asked if I could stay with him I also told him of the extra little visit I’d scheduled into my London trip. He choked on whatever it was he happened to have a mouthful of and spluttered, ‘Are you completely mad?’
‘Probably,’ I answered, trying to sound as if this was the sort of thing I did all the time. ‘Just give me the address, Henry, will you, before I completely lose my nerve.’
‘You already know it, old girl, they’re still at the flat.’
‘My flat?’ I asked incredulously then quickly added, ‘I don’t mean my flat, I mean, oh you know what I mean. Why are they still there? I would have thought Natasha wouldn’t want to even admit the place existed, let alone begin married life living in it!’
‘They did try and find somewhere else,’ Henry explained, ‘but they couldn’t find anything like as exclusive. You know how much the right postcode means to some people!’
It was a relief knowing that I hadn’t got to go trawling halfway across London to find them; I wasn’t sure my nerve would hold if I had to get out the A–Z, but it was going to be strange going back.
‘OK, thanks Henry,’ I said, grateful for the information. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘No I shall not,’ Henry scolded. ‘I think you must be mad to even consider it.’
Ignoring Henry’s warning which had nonetheless been ringing in my ears ever since I spoke to him, I knew my first problem was going to be how to gain access to the flat. It was months since I’d been inside the building and I was well aware that the security code was changed on a regular basis. Fortunately, however, I needn’t have worried; I’d picked the right day to blag my way in. The door was immediately opened upon my arrival and I was greeted like a long lost friend.
‘Well, well, Miss Dixon. Long time no see!’
‘Hello, Frank,’ I smiled, taking the hand of quite possibly the oldest concierge in the known free world.
Fortunately he’d always had a soft s
pot for me and I felt only fleetingly guilty about abusing the fact.
‘You here to see old gorgeous, then?’ he asked with a sniff.
I smirked as I remembered he had nicknames for practically every inhabitant of the building.
‘I am.’
‘He’s out,’ Frank said dismissively, ‘but she’s in.’
No love lost there then I guessed.
‘Shall I buzz her?’
‘No!’ I said far too quickly. ‘This is more of a surprise visit.’
‘I thought as much,’ he smiled. ‘Go on then. If anyone asks, I never saw you!’
I pressed the lift button to the top floor and took a deep breath. Purposefully I had left my hair in its unruly natural state and made no effort to cover or tone down my freckles. I didn’t want or need any armour for this little visit. It was all about me just turning up as me.
‘What makes you think I’m going to let you in?’ Natasha asked, once she’d got over the shock that I was standing the other side of her front door.
‘I know about you and Ben Fletcher,’ I said. I knew it was a cheap shot, especially as I wasn’t there to talk about him at all, but I needed some sort of leverage to get inside.
‘Wait a minute.’
I heard the chain slide back and watched the handle turn. Slowly the door opened.
‘Hello, Natasha,’ I swallowed, looking up at the sleek-heeled goddess before me.
‘You’d better come in,’ she said, taking in my own ruffled appearance with a look of disdain.
Little had changed inside the flat. It was still bare, hollow and unwelcoming, hardly a newlyweds’ love nest. I can honestly say I felt no connection to the place at all, no hankering to pick up the threads of the life I had once lived there. Perhaps if I’d taken a peek at the wet room I might have felt differently . . .
‘What do you want, Lizzie?’ Natasha scowled, narrowing her feline eyes. ‘What has Ben told you?’
‘Everything,’ I said simply, ‘but he isn’t the real reason I’m here.’
I explained my plans to buy the City Crafting Café and the fact that it was little further than a stone’s throw from the flat. ‘I know it,’ Natasha said casually. ‘My mother and sister attend some of the classes there. They’re very fond of it. But what has any of this got to do with me? You aren’t here touting for business, are you? I’m not really the crafting kind,’ she added scathingly.