The Chic Boutique On Baker Street

by Rachel Dove

  Amanda cleared her throat. ‘It was nice, thanks. Ben had to leave early though, he had a busy day.’ She noticed the look pass between the ladies. Did they know she was lying? Her cheeks flushed.

  Dotty coughed. ‘He was really busy, running the vet’s and the dog groomer’s, and lambing season is upon us too. I am sure he was sad to have to go.’

  The ladies all nodded, Grace’s cup jiggling with her movement. Amanda needed to change the subject and fast. ‘Grace, what a lovely piece of knitting. Is it for anything special?’

  Grace preened at the praise. ‘My neighbour, dear. She is due to have her first child soon, so I thought I would make her a nice baby shawl. She isn’t finding out the sex, but luckily I had some yellow wool so the little cherub will be happy either way.’

  Amanda wanted to reach out and touch the pretty patterned garment. It was beautiful, and the wool looked so soft. Grace wasn’t even watching her needles, more looking around the room and pausing to sip at her tea. Amanda was grateful that the subject had been averted, but still felt a little sick to her stomach at the thought of Ben. She hadn’t heard from him since Sunday, not that she expected to. She hadn’t seen him next door since. In fact, other than customers, she hadn’t seen anyone, and she once again considered getting a cat. Agatha must have picked up on her pensive thoughts, and she asked her how business was going. Amanda sensed the women all listening intently as she spoke about her shop. All that could be heard in the expanse of the room were the click of needles, an occasional chink of a cup on saucer and the odd snuffle from one of the sleeping dogs nearby. Agatha was listening intently, hands placed primly on her lap.

  ‘The truth is, ladies, that I am new to all this, and it’s proving more difficult than I originally thought.’ You didn’t think though, did you? You ran, jumped ship, upped sticks, and now you are screwed. Her inner monologue was proving mardier and mardier by the day.

  Grace was the first to break the silence.

  ‘Thing is, dear, Westfield is a bit more “make do and mend” than other places, we all tend to do our own renovations and repairs.’

  Amanda’s heart sank. This was just what she was starting to fear.

  ‘But,’ Grace continued, ‘what we do lack is a meeting place.’

  Agatha smiled broadly and Amanda suddenly got the impression that this meeting wasn’t a mere friendly supper, but more an intervention. Were they trying to oust her? Maybe they had been planning to use the shop themselves, before she had swooped in with her late night desperation bid.

  ‘A meeting place?’ Amanda asked, her voice coming out as a mere whisper.

  Grace, her hands never stopping from making her needles fly, nodded, glancing at each lady in turn before speaking again.

  ‘The community centre in the village is under threat. With all the recent austerity cuts, the council is struggling to keep it open, and the fact it has a leaky roof has sealed its fate cost wise. The council doesn’t want to close it, but the money has to be saved somewhere, and the fact is that the roof just won’t last another winter. Even with the years of patch-up jobs, it’s in a sorry state, which is a travesty as it is so important to the people who live here. It’s normally booked up with mums and tots, yoga, t’ai chi, and the local book clubs, not to mention the many events of the Westfield Historical Society.’

  Marlene rolled her eyes dramatically at this, and Amanda wondered whether she had reasons for disliking this part in particular.

  ‘So,’ Grace added, ‘we have been making plans to save it. What we need, Amanda, is a place to meet. The employees are behind us, but they can’t be seen to be actively helping us. Marlene here runs the tea bar there, so we have an inside woman.’ At this, she looked across at Marlene, who winked at Amanda and tapped the side of her nose in a James Bond style. ‘Agatha here tells us that your shop is quite big, and has a large table and chairs in it.’

  The words came out as more of a statement than a question, and Amanda marvelled at Mrs Mayweather’s ability to case a joint without even setting foot inside. She nodded, intrigued at where this was going.

  Marlene piped up. ‘What we propose is paying you for a meeting place, we could then have somewhere to meet, you get some money in your till, and everyone is happy. We can say that we are running a craft club, that way no one will know what we are up to, and Mr Beecham won’t be breathing down our necks either.’

  The women collectively snorted and growled at the mention of Mr Beecham. Amanda looked to Agatha in confusion.

  ‘Mr Beecham?’ Amanda asked tentatively, picturing a man in a flash suit stroking a white cat in her mind. ‘Who is Mr Beecham?’

  Grace answered in a flash, not tearing her gaze from her needles once. ‘He is the enemy, dear. He is on the council, and is the one man who actually wants the community centre to close. He is not from here, and he sees things in pounds and pence, not people.’

  Amanda nodded. She knew the type.

  Hetty, more nervous than the rest, spoke up then. ‘And Andrew at the Four Feathers has one of those newfangled coffee machines for sale too. So we could even contribute more by paying for drinks. I loved the lattes they did there, but the pub gang are more pies and pints, so Andy took them off the menu.’

  She looked crestfallen at the loss of her new-found love of milky coffees, and Amanda’s brain started to whirr with the possibilities. It would be nice to have a regular income, and company. Plus, an empty shop always makes people want to pass by; if it was a hub of activity, the tourists were more likely to venture in and then she could hopefully make more sales. Plus, having an income to bolster her heavily bleeding bank account would save a lot of stress, and give her more time to concentrate on projects, instead of eating Chunky Monkey by the carton every night and crying over her failed life. Plus, if she helped the ladies save the community centre, she would certainly be painted in a good light to the villagers, and to a rather opinionated and moody animal whisperer. Not that she cared what he thought. Looking at the ladies’ hopeful faces, Amanda made a decision.

  ‘Well, ladies, looks like we have a deal. When do we start?’

  Nine

  Ben had already seen three patients before 10 a.m.: a dog with a bad cough, a parrot suffering from a bald patch and Mrs Burdock’s tabby cat, Sinatra, who was suffering from chronic flatulence. All patched up and sent home with their happy owners—apart from Mrs Burdock, who was given a ticking-off for feeding poor Sinatra spicy sausage—Ben was now staring at the back of the door, thinking about the catastrophic day he had spent with a certain bossy shop owner. She was constantly on his mind, and he hadn’t seen her since their date on Sunday. Dotty had seen her a few days ago at the Mayweather mansion, but was keeping pretty coy about the details for some reason. He was just wiping down his table when the consulting room door opened. Dotty, beaming from ear to ear, shuffled through the door. ‘Ben dear, you have someone to see you. Shall I send them in?’

  Ben, intrigued, nodded, putting the wipes he had used into the bin. Turning around as the door opened again, he saw Amanda standing there. She looked beautiful, dressed in simple grey slacks, black pumps and a white cami top. Ben took in a sharp breath as he looked at her.

  ‘Hi, Ben,’ she said nervously.

  ‘Hi, Amanda,’ he replied. ‘Something wrong?’

  She shook her head, her hair loose around her shoulders. ‘I was talking to Dotty the other day about getting a pet and she suggested I speak to you. I … er … was thinking of getting a cat? I thought you might know of the best place to get a kitten?’

  Ben was nonplussed. Not what he was expecting. He realised she was looking at him questioningly, and he was staring back at her open-mouthed like an imbecile.

  ‘That’s great!’ he said, aware that she was making the effort, so he should too. ‘I do actually. Mr Jenkins’ cat has just had a litter of kittens, and they are ready. He was going to advertise them in the vet’s this week. I can take you there if you like, to have a look?’

  Am
anda grinned, relieved he hadn’t turfed her out of the door as soon as look at her. She was determined to make him see that she wasn’t here to cause trouble. No, you are running away from it, her brain chelped back at her.

  ‘That would be great, thanks. I have never had a cat before, but I think the company might be nice.’ Way to go, Amanda, you came here and went full on crazy cat lady on him. Sexy.

  Ben reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a pamphlet. ‘I have some tips here on kittens, and I can help you if you like, no problem. Shall I pick you up this evening?’

  Amanda took the pamphlet from him, her fingers brushing against his briefly. ‘If you have the time, I would appreciate it. Thanks, Ben.’

  Ben shook her thanks away. ‘It’s my pleasure. Shall we say six? I’ll come get you then.’

  Amanda nodded, making a hasty retreat before she opened her mouth again. She didn’t want him as an enemy, but she wasn’t about to make friends with him either.

  Dotty looked on, amused. Ben blushed as she winked at him, and called his next patient.

  Promptly at six, the buzzer to the flat went. Amanda jumped. Here we go. She pressed the intercom button and managed a breathy ‘Hello?’ Ben’s deep tones came over the waves.

  ‘Amanda, it’s Ben. Are you ready?’

  She was about to say that she would be right down, but got the unexpected urge to invite him up.

  ‘Nearly, would you like to come in for a moment?’

  Ben’s surprised reply came back. She buzzed him in, quickly racing to her bedroom to check that she had not left any big berthas on show, and then opened the flat door. Ben was just walking up the stairs, dressed smartly in a blue sweater and indigo denim jeans. Yum, Amanda thought to herself, before pushing the thought away. She moved back to allow him entry. ‘Come on in, I am just going to grab my jacket.’

  Ben walked into the room. Her flat suddenly felt smaller as his six foot two body filled the space. Amanda was suddenly glad that she had worn boots with a heel, but she still felt like Thumbelina in his proximity. She closed the door behind him and went for her jacket, which she had laid on her bed. When she came back into the open plan living area, she stopped short in the doorway. Ben was looking at the photo frames on her mantelpiece. Pictures of her in her graduation gown, standing with her parents; a Christmas she had spent with friends skiing; sitting with her grandmother Rose; her first day at her new job, all fresh faced, before the jading from the job had set in.

  Amanda cleared her throat, and Ben whirled around, a guilty look on his face.

  ‘Sorry, I was just looking.’

  Amanda smiled. ‘It’s fine.’

  Ben pointed to one of the photos. ‘That your parents?’

  Amanda came closer to the photo, catching a faint whiff of Ben’s aftershave as she stepped near to him. ‘Yep, that’s them. They live in London. They work in law too.’

  Ben nodded. ‘What do they think of your new life?’

  Amanda looked at the faces of her parents. When they found out what she was doing, she guessed they would be pretty angry. Truth was, she hadn’t told them. They thought she was on vacation, or they had a few weeks ago, when she had sent them a quick email before dashing off into the hills of Yorkshire. She wasn’t about to tell Mr Judgy that though.

  ‘You ready to go?’ she said, cutting off his questioning by heading for the door. Ben said nothing and followed her to the jeep.

  The drive to the Jenkinses’ farm was comfortable, Ben filling the silence by telling her all about the Jenkins couple. He didn’t ask any more questions about her life, and Amanda was grateful.

  ‘I delivered Ophelia myself, and she is getting big now. Alf will no doubt want to show her off, I hope you won’t mind.’

  Amanda shook her head. ‘Ben, I like animals. You don’t have to apologise whenever we come across one.’

  Ben’s lips quivered with a suppressed grin.

  The Jenkinses really rolled out the red carpet for them. Ophelia was huge now, and happily tucked up with her mother Gwendolen. Amanda found it surprising how graceful they were for their size, and listened intently as Alf told the dramatic breech birth story to them. Ben was modest and obviously very embarrassed by the praise, but Amanda found it quite charming.

  Mrs Jenkins was keen to hear about her guest too, and, as she settled in the front room, the men went to get the kittens from the barn while she grilled Amanda.

  ‘So, Amanda dear, how are things? I hear that the ladies have a new meeting place for their craft club, thanks to you. I go sometimes, when I am not busy here.’

  Amanda nodded, looking at the many handmade things around the room, from the cross-stitched cushion covers to the knitted tea cosy on the teapot. ‘Yes, the ladies are coming from next week. I am looking forward to it actually. It will be nice to have the company.’

  ‘If it’s company you want,’ Alf boomed, walking in with a wicker basket full of fluff, Ben just behind him, ‘then one of these little guys is just the ticket! Now none of these have homes yet. Young Ben here begged me to let you have first pick!’

  Ben flushed as Amanda smirked at him. Maybe he wasn’t such an ogre. Alf set the basket down, and Ben and Amanda sat on the hearthrug at the same time. So much at the same time that they nearly sat on each other. Giggling nervously, they moved to sit side by side, a safe distance from each other, as the little kittens peered out of the basket at them. Mr and Mrs Jenkins sat together on the settee, simpering at each other as they watched the scene before them.

  ‘Awwww, wow, they are sooo cute!’ Amanda’s gaze was immediately caught by a very fluffy grey kitten that was stepping on his brothers and sisters to get out of the basket to her. Ben reached in and pushed the kitten’s hair back momentarily at the back end, then placed the young cat on Amanda’s lap. ‘This one’s a girl,’ he said.

  Amanda reached out and stroked the adorable bundle, laughing as it pawed at her hand, moving closer to the attention. Looking back in the basket, Amanda noticed a little white cat, with grey socks on, which was curled into the bottom of the basket, not moving around like the others. She frowned. ‘What’s wrong with the white one?’

  Ben reached into the basket and lifted it out then gently cradled the smallest kitten on his own lap.

  Alf spoke up. ‘Ah, that there’s the runt, never been much of a mover. The grey one there has been mothering it a bit, those two stay pretty close.’ Ben was scrutinising the little white kitten. ‘It’s healthy enough, just a little smaller than the others.’

  Amanda stroked the little white head, and Ben put it on her lap with its sister. ‘This one’s a girl too.’

  The grey one immediately nuzzled against her sister, giving it a little hello lick.

  ‘Can I buy two?’ Amanda asked. Ben looked shocked, and his face soon changed into a surprised smile. Mr Jenkins chuckled. ‘Of course you can, love, but they are yours. Ben here does enough for us, so consider them a gift.’

  Amanda blushed. Why did people treat them like a dating couple whenever they were together? She glanced at Ben to gauge his response, but he was looking back at her with a neutral expression.

  ‘They will be great buds, I bet. Shall we collect them tomorrow? I can come with you after work, we can call at the pet store in town tonight if you like, get their things ready?’

  She looked at him, obviously surprised at the offer.

  He shrugged, trying to play down his enthusiastic plan-making. ‘It’s nothing—I have a car and you don’t know your way around.’

  Amanda nodded. It made sense, so she chose not to dwell on having to spend more time with him.

  She was already mentally planning where to put things in her flat for her new little playmates as they waved goodbye to the kittens and the Jenkinses.

  After a short but oddly expensive trip to the pet store, which luckily opened late, they were soon pulling up outside A New Lease of Life. Ben jumped out and came to open her door before she got chance to even touch the door handle.
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  ‘Thanks,’ she said. He reached out his hand and, taking it, she jumped down to the pavement. He walked with her to the boot and opened it up. He started to bring the bags and boxes out. Amanda grabbed two herself and headed for the flat door, Ben following close behind.

  ‘These kittens are spoilt already, Amanda, you do know that, right?’ She laughed, and Ben’s heart danced at the carefree sound. She has a nice laugh, he thought to himself, enjoying the sound.

  After carrying the bags up the stairs, Amanda opened up the flat door and headed to the kitchen area to put them on the counter. She opened the fridge and was grateful that she had stocked up. She had to offer him something, show him she had some manners akin to his own after he had ferried her about. She missed having a car for the first time in her life, after years of taxis and commuting in London, she had never even thought about transport when moving here. Turning to offer Ben a drink, she saw that he was laid out on the living room rug, putting together the large scratching post play centre that he had recommended she buy to save her furniture from little curious claws.

  ‘Er, you really don’t have to do that,’ she said, not wanting to make him feel obligated to help his neighbour any more than he had already.

  He stopped what he was doing and set his grey eyes on hers, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I don’t mind,’ he said coolly. ‘Unless you want me to go?’ He made a motion to stand.

  ‘No!’ she said a little too quickly. What? Amanda, you hate the guy. Let him go. She had to admit to herself though, they had actually got on tonight, and she wasn’t really in a hurry to spend yet another evening alone. ‘No,’ she tried again, making her voice sound less interested. ‘It’s fine. I appreciate the help today, by the way. Can I offer you a drink? Tea, wine?’

  Ben settled back onto the floor. ‘Er, wine, please?’

  Amanda nodded, a maelstrom of emotions whirling through her. She poured the wine and set a glass beside him, adding a small plate of cheese and crackers as an afterthought. She hadn’t had the chance to eat at teatime, and she assumed that Ben might not have had a chance either.