The Chic Boutique On Baker Street

by Rachel Dove

  Tanya welled up. ‘Thanks, Ben,’ she whispered.

  The master of ceremonies stopped the music then, and announced the start of the speeches.

  Ben flicked his gaze to the stage. ‘You are both wanted.’

  Tanya smiled, touching Ben’s arm. ‘Stay for some cake, OK? There are people here who will be glad to see you.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘I am not staying. I have to get back to Westfield. Work is busy, but enjoy yourselves, OK?’ He put his hand on his old friend’s shoulder, giving it a quick pat and then turned away.

  Walking towards the door, Ben felt eyes on him and grinned. This had been a brilliant idea, he realised. When he had got the wedding invitation that morning, and Amanda had rebuffed him, he had been devastated, but he realised that he couldn’t live with ghosts any more. He had come today to exorcise a few, and it felt great. He finally had some closure and the weight lifted from his shoulders was immense. He just wanted to get back to Westfield now, and talk to Amanda. If she was willing to listen. Dotty had texted him earlier, saying that she was coming home with them that evening, and he just hoped it was for good. Heading to the foyer, he decided to ring her, to see if she had plans for the evening. Noticing his phone was still on silent, he was just flicking to the call screen when he saw a Google alert on his screen. He had put Amanda’s old firm on one, just in case the douchebag she left with had stepped out of line, and a notification pinged onto his screen. Standing outside the hotel, he clicked on it and waited for the page to load. It was about Marcus, but not what he had expected. Stokes Partners at Law had issued a press release, stating that Marcus Beresford had been fired for immoral dealings within the company, and they had announced a possible replacement. Ben froze when he read further.

  Marcus Beresford is now no longer working for the law firm, and the legal world is abuzz to find out who will take the coveted partner position. A close source to the senior partner, Vincent Stokes, has stated that Amanda Perry, former employee of the firm, has today finalised the Kamimura six-figure deal and is the front-runner to return to London to take the spot. Mr Stokes declined to comment on Mr Beresford, other than to state that Miss Perry was a valued asset to the firm, and they hoped to make an imminent announcement.

  Ben thrust his phone back into his pocket, motioning for the valet to bring his vehicle. That was that then. She had got her life back, got rid of Marcus, and come out the other side. He was happy that she wouldn’t have to deal with Beresford again; the thought of him being near her made him feel sick, but now she would leave anyway. What was there to keep her in Westfield, after all, if she had a high-flying job to go back to? Ben took the keys from the valet and slumped into his seat. As usual, the woman in Ben’s life was leaving, and he was left behind. Firing the ignition up, he winced as Kings of Leon started to play through the CD-player. He clicked it off and pounded his fists on the steering wheel. He pulled out his phone and dialled a number. A male voice answered after two rings.

  ‘Nigel?’ Ben asked. ‘It’s me, Nige, Ben Evans. Hi, yeah, mate, I’m fine. Listen, you know what you were saying the other day, about needing a new partner for your practice? I might have a proposal for you.’ Ben listened to the voice on the phone, swallowing to try to dislodge the huge slab of pain that sat on his chest and choked his voice. ‘I am here actually, in London. I can meet you in twenty minutes.’ He tapped a postcode into his satnav as the voice spoke on. ‘Got it,’ Ben said, his voice monotone. ‘I’m on my way.’

  Amanda nodded to the builders as they pulled away from A New Lease of Life. She didn’t know who was more relieved, her or them. When she had arrived back from London late last night, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open on the drive from the station to Agatha’s mansion.

  The train journey had been sombre at best, the ladies all seemed deflated and lacklustre. Taylor and Agatha had sat quietly to one side, whispering to each other animatedly as they sat arm in arm. Amanda, sitting across from them, next to Dotty, couldn’t help but stare at the pair. They looked so natural with each other, so happy and comfortable in each other’s company it made her want to sob. She was happy for them, finding each other finally, and she was glad more than ever that she and the girls had done their matchmaking. She knew that the women were all quiet because of the other matchmaking project that they had tried, and the failure of it hung around the carriage like a shroud. Even Grace’s knitting speed had decreased, and every time she looked across at her, she was focused on her needles, a determined look on her face. Dotty had clung to her side since they set off, and she now sat next to her, one of Amanda’s hands clasped into her own as though she feared Amanda would disappear or bolt from the train window if she let go. She said nothing though, enjoying the comfort and reassuring warmth it provided.

  Dotty kept checking her phone discreetly from time to time, slipping one of her hands into her pocket, the other still clinging to her travel companion. Every time she checked, Amanda had to look out of the train window to avoid the questioning looks from the women as they searched Dotty’s face for an answer to a question not put into words. And every time, Dotty gave a tut, a sigh, or a shake of the head. Looking at the trees and buildings whizzing by her window, Amanda tried to ignore the stabbing pain in her heart, knowing what those gestures meant. Ben wasn’t interested. He wasn’t tearing up the motorway to get to her, risking a ticket to speed through the lanes to claim her love. He was at a conference, mingling with fellow professionals, quaffing drinks and appetisers as they discussed the cost of medicine nowadays and the latest Supervet episode on TV. She was suddenly acutely glad she had left her phone switched off.

  Once back at Agatha’s mansion, Amanda showered and dressed in a nightgown she had borrowed from Agatha. The Westfield dowager had brooked no refusal at her offer to stay over, and Amanda had taken one look at Taylor’s kind face and nodded. A New Lease of Life was all but finished, but she found she was in no hurry to return to an empty flat. She lay in a four-poster bed in one of the guest rooms, watching the shifting light change through the thick embroidered curtains at the window. She reached for her phone and turned it on, looking at the screen as it powered up. The blank notifications screen mocked her, and she finally turned it off petulantly and stuffed it to the bottom of her case. Her parents had obviously heard then, she was betting that their cold shoulder would last a while yet, and there was no word from Ben. Throwing herself back onto the bed like a sulky teenager, she pounded the pillow a little, taking out her frustrations, before sleep finally claimed her.

  It felt like she had just closed her dry, gritty eyes when Taylor knocked at the door with a steaming pot of coffee, and now here she stood, cases beside her, back at A New Lease of Life. She looked around the place she had built and smiled at the warmth and security she had felt when walking in that morning. The builders had finished early, and had done an amazing job. The fresh paint smell was a comfort, and she loved how good it felt to be home.

  When Vince Stokes had offered her the partnership, after they put the Kamimura account to bed, she had turned it down, and it wasn’t until this moment that she was utterly sure she wouldn’t regret her decision down the line. Being here though, back in Westfield, was the happiest she had felt in a long time. She just wished she could tell Ben, thank him for helping her, for being there, for making her New Lease of Life truly special. Sighing, she went to put the coffee machine on, taking her bulging order book with her. The girls would arrive soon, and she had a lot of work to do.

  Dotty Arbuckle was one of the most determined, stoic and kind women that anyone should ever encounter, and today was no different. Walking into the practice that morning, she strode around the building, flicking on lights and computer screens, opening blinds, preparing for the day ahead. She had noticed that Ben’s jeep was in the drive as she walked in to work, and the relief she had felt at seeing that hunk of metal had been indescribable. Ben was home, and her relief and happiness had been immense.

  Those emotions
were now replaced though, she realised as she flicked on the kettle. She looked on Ben like the son she never got to have, and she was one surrogate mother who was mightily ticked off. She was heading for the consulting room when she heard muffled voices, and realised that Ben was already at work. She heard the locum’s voice in reply to something Ben had asked, and she huffed at the thought of having to wait till they had a lengthy handover before she could rip into him.

  She walked into his office and opened the curtains, frowning at the sea of junk food wrappers and dirty coffee cups that littered his normally clean and tidy desk. What a pig! she thought to herself, thinking of the locum, sitting in Ben’s working space, stuffing his face with sugar and caffeine. She was just clearing the cups when she saw some papers on his desk, and froze. She jumped back in shock, dropping one of the cups on the floor, and winced as she saw a brown stain appear on the carpet, complete with mouldy skin.

  Ben’s voice called out from the next room. ‘Dotty, that you?’

  Dotty grabbed the papers, stuffing them into her pocket before she ran from the room. She heard the consulting room door open, and she dashed past, racing past reception, grabbing her bag on the way.

  ‘Er, yes, it’s me, dear. I am just nipping out, I need some carpet cleaner. Shan’t be long, kettle’s boiled!’ She dashed out of the practice before he could answer, and she power-walked up the road.

  Amanda was sitting with the girls in the shop, coffee cup in hand, Pinky and Perky on her lap, when Dotty collapsed through the shop door. The kittens, who had not left her lap since Alf Jenkins had dropped them off, turned to the door in unison before stretching and re-curling up, accustomed now to the drama of the group.

  Agatha, who had just arrived with Taylor, looked up from her secret talk with Hetty astonished at Dotty’s dishevelled and rather sweaty appearance. ‘Good God, Dotty, whatever is the matter? You look like you ran here!’

  Dotty, bent over the back of Grace’s chair, huffed and puffed, clutching her side at a painful stitch.

  Grace tried to push her off, poking at her with a knitting needle. ‘Dotty, gerrof! You are dripping sweat on my knitting!’

  Dotty fought for breath, and Amanda, after carefully extricating the cats from her lap and putting their disgruntled furry bodies into their basket, went to get her a drink of water. Dotty was trying to get her words out, rather unsuccessfully, waving a bundle of papers in her hand.

  ‘Meeting … today … soon … practice … Ben …’

  Amanda brought her water, her face now a picture of concern as she heard Ben’s name. ‘Ben? Is he OK? Is he home?’

  Dotty nodded, glugging at the water like it was a desert oasis. She took the hanky that Hetty offered her and wiped her brow frantically.

  ‘Is he OK?’ Amanda tried again, starting to panic now.

  Dotty shook her head, sharp breaths pushing out of her. ‘Practice … Ben … leaving!’ She threw her hands up, glad to get a relevant word out at last.

  Taylor stood and took the papers from her hand. ‘He’s leaving? He can’t be.’ Taylor’s face changed from confusion to realisation as he scanned the pages. ‘I don’t believe it. He is leaving. Today.’

  ‘What!?’ the women all said in unison.

  Dotty threw her hands up in a ‘that’s what I was trying to tell you’ pose, before flopping down into a nearby chair.

  The only person who didn’t react was Amanda. She was stood at the cats’ basket, stroking their fur softly, delicately, with her back to them. The ladies all looked at each other, unsure of what to say. This was the polar opposite of what they had dreamed of. Agatha nodded to them all, accepting silently the role of leader once more. She walked over to Amanda, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Are you OK, dear?’

  Amanda turned to her, and Agatha realised that she was holding back tears. Her eyes were glassy and moist, and she was blinking rapidly. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. ‘I am fine, don’t worry. It’s nothing to do with me, is it? We were just friends really, and I am not even sure we are that any more.’

  She walked over to Taylor, taking the papers from him and reading them herself. It was true, he was leaving. The papers were a printout of an email, confirming a place as partner in a new state-of-the-art veterinary facility in London, and the contract started that day. She couldn’t believe it. She thought she knew Ben, and this didn’t suit him. It was out of character. She never thought he would want to leave Westfield, let alone live in London. She realised that the Ben she knew might not have existed at all.

  Dotty had caught her breath now, and was shaking her head. ‘He doesn’t want to go, I know it. London isn’t for him. He lived there before, and he came home. I think he is running away.’

  Amanda turned to her. ‘Running from what?’

  ‘You, my dear,’ said Grace, who for once had stopped her ever-moving needles. ‘You.’

  Amanda’s shoulders sagged. ‘It isn’t me, Grace. He isn’t interested, trust me.’

  Dotty made a funny noise from her chair, and the others looked at her, goggle-eyed. She made the noise again and, for a moment, Amanda wondered if she had done herself an injury on her mad dash. The noise came again, much louder this time, and it was then that she realised: Dotty was crying. She started to walk over to her, grabbing an embroidered tissue box on her way, when Dotty broke down, railing loud sobs and snorts. Agatha looked uncomfortable at the very emotional display, and nudged Taylor closer, as though he was the bomb squad sent in to defuse the wailing woman.

  ‘It’s just so sad,’ Dotty said. ‘I thought you were perfect for each other, and Ben has been so happy lately. Happier than I have ever seen him in fact.’ She sniffed loudly, taking a tissue from the box and blowing her nose, producing a large trumpeting noise.

  Agatha gurned and nudged Taylor closer still, hiding behind his broad back.

  Taylor looked over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at her, and she poked him in the ribs, making him smile.

  Amanda knelt by Dotty. ‘Dotty, he obviously wants to do this, he is not the type of man to make a decision like this on a whim.’

  She sniffed again, wiping at her eyes. ‘You must hate us, pushing you towards a man you didn’t even like.’

  Amanda shook her head. ‘I did like Ben, I do like him. I could never hate you.’

  Hetty moved closer. ‘But you didn’t fancy him, did you? I mean, you didn’t want to be with him—we got it so wrong.’

  Amanda folded her legs under her on the floor, her legs aching from kneeling. ‘No, that’s not true,’ she countered. ‘I did fancy him, of course! Who wouldn’t, he is gorgeous,’ she said sadly, thinking of the way he smelled when she lay in his bed, wrapped in the scent of him. ‘And he is strong, and kind, and when he smiles, he gets this little dimple in his cheeks, which is adorable, and—’

  ‘Yes,’ Grace said, cutting her off. ‘But liking the cut of one’s jib isn’t enough. You have to get on, don’t you?’

  ‘But we did get on,’ she replied, her voice getting higher. ‘Not at first, granted, but we get on great now. He is so funny, he always make me laugh. He is clever too, so smart, and we like the same things and …’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Taylor said, moving closer, Agatha’s head perched over his left shoulder. ‘That’s all well and good, but then the arguments start, and the things that annoy you, and then it’s all downhill. Before you know it, you are bickering and being poked—’ he looked at Agatha when he said this, who blushed ‘—and then it’s all tears before bedtime.’

  Amanda got to her feet. ‘No! You are wrong, it wouldn’t be like that with Ben, I mean, we bicker now, but it’s all part of it, right? I can honestly say that being with Ben would be great. I know we would be happy.’ The words tumbled out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying, and she realised she was up on her feet, arms waving wildly, defending a relationship that didn’t exist. She glanced at Marlene who was smirking at her.

  ‘If all that�
�s true, duck,’ she said, grabbing her cardigan from the back of the chair, ‘then what are we doing stood here?’

  Amanda looked round the room, realising that she had been played into showing her hand. She raced to the counter, kissing the sleeping kittens on the way, and grabbed her keys. ‘Come on then!’ she shouted. ‘Let’s go!’

  The women all shrieked and hollered, racing for the door. Amanda locked up, flipping the closed sign and throwing her keys into her pocket. Taylor ran for the car, opened the doors for the women and jumped into the driver seat. Within minutes, they were speeding off, Amanda in the front, willing Taylor to go faster as he sped through the country lanes.

  ‘My phone!’ Amanda exclaimed. ‘I left it behind! Someone, call Ben quick!’

  The women all looked around in panic. ‘We left our stuff at the shop!’

  Taylor felt his pockets and shook his head. Amanda groaned.

  ‘Get us there, quick!’

  Taylor shifted up a gear. All five women were squashed in the back, and the car lurched awkwardly through the corners, unaccustomed to the heavy weight. Marlene and Hetty were clawing and huffing at each other, as they fought for space, the occasional ‘oof’ and ‘gerrof’ coming out from the wall of bodies.

  Amanda turned to check on them distractedly and was stunned to see them all, stuffed like sardines in the back. Agatha’s face was slammed into the side window, and she was trying her very best to look ladylike and poised, which wasn’t working out well. They spied some people from the village, setting up the banners and stalls at the community centre, and she gave them a regal wave as they sped past, leaving them open-mouthed. Dotty was curled in a ball, crocodile tears long gone, staring determinedly out of the front windscreen, and Grace was at the other side. She was doing her best to ignore the jostling women, and Taylor chuckled under his breath as Hetty admonished her for knitting. ‘Grace, you loon, who brings knitting on a high-speed car chase? You poked me in the eye with your needle!’ Grace shrugged, still focused.