The Chic Boutique On Baker Street

by Rachel Dove

  He half wished he smoked, for the excuse to have a fag break and a heavy dose of stress relief. Looking at the clock, he realised that the secretaries would all be in the coffee room about now, getting the orders of breakfast and caffeine ready for their respective bosses. He decided to chance bumping into Angela and made a dash for it, power-walking past the water cooler. Elaine, Angela and the other secretaries all stood around the kitchen area, clinking cups and teaspoons, putting bread in to toast and chatting. As soon as he rounded the corner, they all stopped and glared at him. He swallowed hard and smiled at Elaine, his target on this suicide mission. Ignoring the tuts and stares of the other women, he went to stand next to her. Angela started to move towards him, breasts jutting out of her tight black dress, red lips grinning at him, but she frowned and held back when she saw where he was going.

  ‘Er … Elaine, I … er … Just wondered, have you heard anything from Amanda?’ He said it cautiously, spat the words out nervously as though he had asked her age, or menstrual cycle. He knew she had been looking for her boss, but previously the bravest he had gotten in way of contacting her was emailing her through the office network.

  Elaine rounded on him instantly though, and he reared back at her venom. Her voice shaking with barely controlled anger, she spoke in a low growl.

  ‘No, I bloody well haven’t, and whose fault is that!?’ Marcus went to speak, but she cut him off with a finger in his face. ‘No! You may be a partner here now, Mr Beresford—’ said mockingly, as though she really wanted to call him something far less polite ‘—but we all know what you did, and no one has managed to track her down. Her parents are worried sick! If you can’t do your blinking job, then flippin’ well work it out and leave Amanda out of it!’ She nodded goodbye to the girls, ignoring Angela completely, and turned on her heel, coffee cups in hand.

  Marcus sheepishly smiled at the other girls, but all he got back was disgusted stares and the back of their heads as they all followed suit. Within seconds, the kitchen was empty, bar him and Angela. She took this opportunity to sidle up to him, her index talon running down the front of his buttons whilst her other arm snaked around his back, pulling him into her breasts. If she noticed the sweat patch, she never missed a beat, to her credit.

  ‘What do you want to speak to her for anyway, Markie?’ she simpered, calling him that stupid pet name he deplored again. ‘You know she won’t have you back, not after she found out about us, so why bother?’

  Marcus shuddered inwardly at the ‘us’ word. Was this his life now? Stuck with this trampy social climber, destined to be Angela and Markie? He wished to God that he had thought with his head more those months ago, instead of a more feckless and reckless part of his anatomy. The look on Amanda’s face when she had walked into his office to find him in flagrante with Angela was not one of his finer moments, that was for sure. He never even got the chance to explain. Two days after that, she had been fired after the colossal cock-up with the Kamimura account and he was made partner, a role that Marcus had no doubt was earmarked for his ex-girlfriend. And now he was stuck with this bimbo, clueless about a job he was supposed to be master of, and the Kamimura contract was due to be completed. Signed, sealed, delivered, with a great deal of back-slapping credit and company bonus to be had for his trouble. Except he couldn’t do it, he never had been able to, and the clock was ticking. As Angela nibbled on his ear lobes, whispering their—her—plans for dinner that evening, Marcus’s cogs were turning. He needed a plan, and fast.

  Amanda stood in front of the ladies as they sat chatting and crafting away at A New Lease of Life. ‘Ladies, I have a plan.’

  The ladies all turned round, needles poised, to look at her. Grace piped up first. ‘A plan, dear? Do tell. Is it for Ben?’

  Amanda rolled her eyes. ‘No, Grace, it’s not for Ben. I do think of other things from time to time you know.’ The ladies tittered at this, and Amanda realised what she had alluded to and blushed. ‘No, this plan is for Agatha. Now we have raised the money for the roof, we can afford a couple of days off from the community centre project.’

  The ladies all listened intently, intrigued now. She was heartened by this. So far, so good. ‘The plan involves her and Taylor, actually.’

  Marlene shook her head, raising a hand in objection. ‘You are kidding, aren’t you? We can’t interfere with Agatha, she would bloomin’ murder the lot of us, and have a smile on her face while she did it!’

  Dotty laughed, tapping Marlene on the arm. ‘Can you remember when Tanya tried to plan a fashion event in the village? I thought Agatha was going to have a stroke! Sh—Oh, sorry, Amanda.’ Dotty coloured as she realised her faux pas.

  Amanda laughed. ‘Dotty, I won’t turn to stone. Ben and I are just friends, and we are barely even that really.’ She thought of the confusing kiss at the play, and the awkward ride home in silence afterwards. ‘I would actually like to hear about Tanya. Ben doesn’t talk about her.’

  The ladies all looked a bit nervous, as though someone had finally pointed out the elephant in the corner of the room.

  Hetty, no nonsense as ever, piped up. ‘She wasn’t cut from the same cloth as him, love, it would never have worked. That girl was a city lass, through and through, and our Ben, well, he is our Benjamin, he belongs here.’

  Marlene chortled. ‘You never liked her, Hetty, none of us did really. We only put up with her for Ben.’

  Amanda nodded, wondering how much Ben thought about her, and whether he compared the two. She considered herself to be a village girl these days, London seemed a lifetime ago, but what if Ben wanted a city girl? That was obviously what he went for at one time in his life, for him to marry Tanya. He would be going after the girl she was, and not the woman she was becoming, and that couldn’t end well. She shook off the thought. Ben didn’t know what he wanted anyway. The kiss had felt like an urgent need he had, rather than a thought out plan. He said it himself, the kiss was a mistake. She had agreed with him, so no harm done, right? Being around these women day in day out had mellowed him a bit, but after that, she was in no doubt that he was all man. If he wanted to be with her, wouldn’t he have made the move after the kiss, said or done something, instead of giving her the vague speech he had? What are you thinking, Amanda? You moved here for a new start, men- and stress-free, and now you are pining for a man who declares you the village Antichrist one minute and grabs you for toe-curling kisses the next. Go figure!

  ‘Anyway, I think that our dear Agatha and Taylor could do with a helping hand, to nudge them together. It’s worth a try, don’t you agree? I was thinking that we, the villagers, could rustle up a little thank you gift, to thank them for all the hard work they do. I was thinking a meal out, there is a posh place near Harrogate we could book them into, then they are away from the village. Worst-case scenario, they have a nice meal out, a change of scene. I need your help though, it has to come from you ladies—she would suss me out a mile away.’

  She watched nervously as the ladies muttered amongst themselves, the occasional ‘she’ll bloody swing for us’ and ‘man up, Marlene’ coming from the gaggle. One by one the ladies all turned to look at her. Amanda knotted her fingers together, praying that she was doing the right thing. When she had first told Ben her plan at the play, he had eventually—after much laughter—agreed to help, providing she could, in his words, ‘get the silver brigade on board without killing each other’. She remembered how he had hugged her after, calling her a daft thing. She grinned to herself like an idiot, belatedly remembering that this had happened before the kiss ruined the night. She pushed the thought away and concentrated on setting her face straight when Dotty spoke.

  ‘OK, first we have some stipulations.’ Trying to keep her face neutral, Amanda nodded. ‘Firstly, we can’t tell anyone what we are planning, on pain of death. Secondly, you and Ben have to do the same, go for a meal somewhere, before the summer fair, our pick. And thirdly,’ she said, smiling to herself, ‘if this works, Agatha can never get wind that it w
as down to us, because we will never hear the end of it when Taylor annoys her.’

  Amanda clapped her hands together in glee. ‘So you are in?’

  Grace nodded. ‘And you, are you in?’

  Amanda remembered the second request from the ladies. A meal out with Ben. Hmm. She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. He wouldn’t agree to that, so she would be off the hook. ‘I can take one for the team, if it means we are on. Sure,’ she said, shrugging.

  The ladies all smiled at her.

  ‘That settles it then, we shall make the arrangements, we have money in our kitty for the meal, we can use that,’ Grace, the unofficial treasurer of the group said, flipping through a notebook she produced from her bag.

  ‘I will pay for our meal then, 50/50?’

  Grace nodded, obviously calculating something in her brain as she scribbled with a pencil she usually kept behind her ear. Amanda went off to make the coffee, excited at the prospect of playing matchmaker. Behind her, the ladies all did a little victory dance, before returning to their work.

  Fifteen

  Two days later, the ladies brought more than scones with them to the shop. They had a menu for a nice gastropub on the outskirts of the village, and details of that night’s booking. Dotty was practically jumping up and down in excitement as she told Amanda about the little rustic setting of the converted farmhouse which was to be the scene of her and Ben’s meal that evening. Amanda laughed at her exuberance.

  ‘OK, OK, Dotty. It sounds perfect, but it won’t happen. Things between Ben and I are awkward, to say the least.’ She took the menu from her and marvelled at the choice of food. It sounded lovely, and she was a little sad that she wouldn’t get to go, or to give her new dress, bought from a little vintage shop in the village, a good night out.

  Dotty touched her arm. ‘I will tell Ben this afternoon, and get him to pick you up at seven. It will happen, trust me. I wish you would get a mobile though, dear. Who doesn’t have one in this day and age?’

  Amanda’s face fell as she thought of her forgotten smartphone languishing in the drawer upstairs. ‘I know, I know, I will get a new SIM card today from the village, OK?’

  Dotty nodded. ‘Perfect. Then you can ring Ben on it, can’t you?’

  Amanda groaned. ‘Yes, Dotty, I get the gist.’ She laughed out loud. Of course, she was right, it was ridiculous not to have a mobile. She used the internet for her business research, of course, but steered clear of any social media, and she would like to advertise herself on there, and maybe even get a new email address. It was time to come back into the world, she thought to herself. She resolved to make a start that day, beginning with a new number.

  Ben was in the practice later on when his mobile buzzed on his desk. He was busy checking X-rays, writing lambing reports on his patients, coffee steaming on his desk, soft rock pumping through his computer speakers in the background. Dotty was at her group, so he knew she was not there to complain about his taste in music, or his occasional air guitar through the surgery.

  He read the text on his screen and smiled to himself. It read, ‘I am back in the land of the texting. Amanda.’

  He frowned as he thought of the sender. The kiss had been reckless, a mistake. An amazing, mind-blowing mistake granted, but Amanda wasn’t right for him, he knew it, deep down. They drove each other crazy! He kept seeing glimpses of the city girl in her, her melancholy attitude when her old life was mentioned. There was more to the story, he knew it, but he didn’t want to push her. He typed back, ‘Wow, and they say us village dwellers are behind the times. Ben.’ He tapped ‘send’ and sighed. The more he got to know her, the more he got the impression he had misjudged her, but he just couldn’t take the risk. He would have to keep his distance from her for a while, cool things down. He really liked her, and being around her was becoming harder and harder to do. He just couldn’t take the chance of getting hurt again, and now, after his kiss, he ran the risk of losing her friendship too. Losing his parents, wife and best friend all in the space of a few short years had taken its toll, and he didn’t relish trying to stick himself back together after yet another person leaving him.

  He ruffled his hair with one hand when his phone beeped again. Picking it up, he tried not to grin as he read ‘The ladies are in on the plan, but played us at our own game. Dotty will fill you in. Sorry! A.’ Ben wondered what she meant by that, but guessed it was to do with their meddling. Whatever it was, Ben didn’t have to be a genius to work out that keeping his distance from Amanda was going to be a lot harder than he thought, in more ways than one.

  Amanda grinned to herself as she got a ping back. She was sat at home, drinking a well-deserved cup of tea as she relaxed on her lunch break, Pinky on her lap, Perky wrapped around her bare feet on the settee. She had managed to change her SIM card and block any messages coming through to her phone, and she felt so much better now for having exorcised that demon. She pulled up the text screen and frowned as she read Ben’s short reply of ‘OK. B.’ Bit short, no kiss? What did this mean? Amanda dissected the whole text conversation like a teenager, reading affection or rebuttal into every semicolon and emoticon sent over the airwaves. He’s probably just busy, she told herself. It has been weird since the kiss though, you know that, her inner voice replied. Groaning loudly, causing Pinky to backflip in surprise off the settee, she slammed her phone down on the side table. Men-free, my ass, she scolded herself. Sat here like a sulky teen, I mean really. You don’t even want a relationship. Especially not with a man who thinks Starbucks is the epitome of evil.

  She scanned her attire then; fluffy socks made to look like sheep—Marlene’s creation, and a best-seller—ripped jeans, a plain top and a crazy cat lady hairdo. She was about as far from her old high-powered self as could be. What occurred to her then, what unsettled her thoughts, was the notion that the old her had been the mask the whole time, and her true self was the unkempt romantic sap she currently was. Pinky jumped back onto her lap and resumed her position, purring loudly. As Amanda stroked the ball of fluff, she made a deal with herself. If the meal happened, that would be the last time she would spend any time with Ben. Give it up as a bad job and embrace spinsterhood wholeheartedly. Perky lifted her head up at that moment, giving a lazy little wink as she adjusted position on her owner’s feet. Amanda took that to mean Whatever, Mum, we’ll see, and she spoke aloud. ‘I mean it Pinky, D-Day is upon us.’ Both cats slept on, clearly not giving a toss at her predicament. Amanda tutted. Bloody furry traitors, they love Ben, what do they know. She had made up her mind, one more night, that was it. The women would just have to move on. Amanda just hoped that she could stick to her guns, hold fast in her resolve against those gorgeous grey eyes.

  Reaching for a paperback, she settled in to enjoy her break. She would leave the spy game to the women of Westfield for the day, let them deal with the cloak and dagger, and try not to tie herself in knots for once. Pulling the settee blanket around her shoulders against the unseasonal chill she felt, she suddenly had a flash of herself: many years from now, sat in a chair reading, her fur babies sleeping on her as they did now. Was this what the future held? Comfort, contentment, with a side order of crippling loneliness? She thought of Agatha then, rattling around her huge house with her ‘children’ for company, and she realised: one last chance at happiness might not be as bad as it sounded. Worth the shot, at the very least. What-ifs were soothing bedtime stories for no one, and Amanda would rather cope with the nightmares of memory, than the alternative.

  Sixteen

  In the vet’s practice that afternoon, Dotty Arbuckle felt ready to pop. Ben Evans was the most exasperating man she had ever met, and she told him so.

  ‘You, Ben Evans, are the most exasperating man I have ever met! Just take the girl out for a meal!’

  Ben slapped the side of his face with an open palm, his frustration evident. ‘Why? So you ladies can feast on the intrigue of it all? No!’

  Dotty folded her arms across her ample breast
s and shook with anger. ‘Benjamin, don’t be rude! We just have your best interests at heart! She is a lovely girl, and, Lord knows, you need some happiness in your life, so take her out! It’s all arranged, she agreed to it, she wants to go!’

  Ben huffed loudly. ‘What choice did you give her! You railroaded her into it, and she probably doesn’t want to appear nasty, don’t you get it? She wants to help Agatha, she is new here, she obviously wants to fit in, but she is not one of us!’

  Dotty pounced on his last statement. ‘Exactly, Benjamin, she wants to fit in, which would imply that she wants to ruddy well stay here! Don’t you get it, Ben? She likes you!’

  He sighed, leaning against the counter, his body suddenly sagging before her. Dotty frowned. The poor boy looked exhausted suddenly, and she wondered whether her tough love had gone a tad too far.

  ‘Dotty, I love you, but you just don’t get it. I … I just can’t go there again. I am not strong enough. I know you all hated Tanya, and God knows she was the wrong woman, but she was there for me, and she still left. Besides, Amanda and I are just friends.’

  Dotty finally understood, and her heart went out to the man before her, the man she loved like her own child. She had watched him grow from a cute grey-eyed little boy to a man, a strong, clever man who hid his heart for fear of it being crushed. The thing that was crushing him now, though, was fear. The fear of loss, of hoping for something, wanting someone, and taking that leap. She kept her arms crossed and tried her best not to run over to him and scoop him into her arms, but she eventually walked to him and placed her hand over his. Ben looked down at her wrinkled, soft hand over his own and smiled weakly at her.