She still didn’t feel quite at home, although her back was looking forward to sleeping in the big brass-framed bed rather than cramped onto the single in her old room. She still needed to get in touch with her landlord in London and make arrangements for the rest of her things to be shipped, but that could wait. Giving up her bedsit still felt like a commitment too far. Finding somewhere within her budget had been a nightmare, and she’d need somewhere to go back to if things didn’t work out as she hoped with the emporium.
The colours for the walls had been picked; a white with the palest hint of lilac for the three larger walls, and a dusky mauve-grey for the solid end wall. Her budget wouldn’t stretch to new furniture, but Eliza was the queen of crafty things and after screaming ‘Project!’ with an alarming amount of enthusiasm during a Skype chat had promised to transform the dark wood chest of drawers, wardrobe and matching dresser. There was also a trip planned to the local household superstore to hunt for complementary accessories and accent pieces for the walls.
Beth knew when to fight and when to surrender to the superior knowledge of others, and when it came to anything creative, Eliza was the expert of the three of them. While she’d still been struggling to get to grips with threading a sewing machine properly, Eliza had been turning out her own clothes. Knowing her friend would be insulted if Beth tried to pay her, she’d set aside some vintage pieces from Eleanor’s wardrobe in the hopes Eliza would like them.
Humming to herself, she began to unwrap the figurines and position them on the cabinet shelves. The quirky little figures were perfect for the revamped design of the shop—a graceful hark back to a bygone age with a touch of artistry. She hadn’t decided whether she would sell them or not, and the locked cabinet would be both the safest place and provide a daily reminder of Eleanor. Beth had nosed around a bit on eBay, and had been stunned at some of the asking prices. She adjusted the angle of the little shepherdess and smiled to herself. If Henry the Eighth and his six wives had been part of Eleanor’s collection, she’d have been straight online trying to sell them! No, she’d wait and see if anyone showed an interest and then decide.
Closing the cabinet, she turned the key and tucked it away in the cash register then checked her watch. There would just be time for her to grab some lunch and double-check everything was ready for the weekend. Mick had arranged for cover for his daughter at the chip shop, so they would have two whole days to spend together. A quick glance around the shop assured her everything was in order and she headed back upstairs.
Without Annie’s near-constant supply of meals, Beth might not have got through the past few weeks, and although she was grateful, it was past time to stand on her own two feet. Heating up a can of soup wasn’t beyond her, and she’d started bookmarking videos on YouTube with basic recipes she was pretty sure she could follow.
If she was going to start taking care of herself properly, she needed to get into a regular exercise routine too. Especially if she was going to be on her feet all day in the shop. In London, she’d had to walk past the gym on her route from the tube to her front door, so it had been simple enough to call in and slog on the cross-trainer a few times a week. Perhaps she should start joining Sam on his morning run. Once he’d seen her sweaty and red-faced a few times, he’d soon lose his enthusiasm for kissing her.
‘It’s so good to see you!’ Eliza swept Beth into a warm, richly scented embrace then stepped back to look around the room. ‘Wow! Look at this place. It’s the same and yet, so different.’ Her words were the exact ones Beth needed to hear and a knot loosened in her tummy. Trust her sweet, sensitive friend to see exactly what she was trying to achieve. Eliza shoved up the floppy sleeves of her sweater—a pointless act as they fell straight back down again—and grinned. ‘And look at you! You’re looking so much better.’
Beth snagged an arm around Eliza’s waist and hugged her close again. ‘It’s all the fresh air. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been shedding layers of city grime.’ She stroked the end of the ponytail curling over her shoulder. ‘Everything was dull, you know? Not just my hair, or my skin, but my brain too.’
Her friend nodded. ‘I get it. The air up north doesn’t taste the same either.’ She breathed deeply. ‘I don’t know how I let Martin talk me into moving away in the first place.’ A troubled look clouded her brow. ‘And now he wants to drag me halfway around the world.’
‘What?’
Pushing her cloud of curly hair back from her forehead, Beth sighed. ‘Oh, nothing. I’m just being a drama queen. Martin’s been invited to apply for a fantastic promotion, but if he gets it, it would mean relocating to Abu Dhabi.’
Clad in an emerald green flowing wool dress, cinched at the waist with a bright red belt that matched her tights and the huge scarf wrapped around her neck, Eliza was a vision of jewel shades. The colours perfectly complimented her pale, freckled skin. Pale skin that turned bright red at the first hint of the sun. Her friend had spent every summer in Lavender Bay smothered in high-factor sun cream and sheltered under an umbrella. How on earth would she cope with the extreme climate of the Middle East? How on earth would Beth cope with her friend so far away? ‘Eliza, you’ll burn to a crisp! How will you cope with the heat?’
‘It won’t be so bad. The company has a lovely compound there. There’s a swimming pool surrounded by palms and cabanas. The apartments all have wall-to-wall aircon. Martin’s showed me the pictures.’ The wavering in her voice belied the reassurance in her words. ‘Oh, these are new!’
Still stunned at the prospect of them being separated by so many miles, Beth watched Eliza hurry across the room to examine the central display she’d created to exhibit local craftsmen and women. Eliza pressed her nose practically against the glass—making it clear the topic of Martin’s potential promotion was off limits.
For now, Beth conceded, silently.
Eleanor’s notebook had proven to be a goldmine of information. Sylvia, the creator of the jewellery Libby had been so taken with, had invited Beth to join a Facebook group which was part chatroom, part artisans’ guild. The post she’d put up offering display space on a sale-or-return basis had been inundated with responses. From hand-thrown pots to delicate watercolours, the local artists had provided her with a beautiful collection of unique pieces. A card stood beside each item providing details of the artist and a couple of lines about the inspiration behind it. ‘What do you think?’
Eliza turned to her, eyes glowing. ‘I think it’s wonderful. Who knew Lavender Bay was such a creative hotbed?’ It wasn’t difficult to sense the longing in those words.
‘You should think about making something for me to sell.’ An impulsive suggestion, but the words tasted right on her tongue.
‘Me?’ Eliza scoffed. ‘My silly little dabblings aren’t a patch on these.’
If Martin had been standing there at that precise moment, Beth feared she would have done him violence, so great was the wash of anger filling her veins. She could picture him saying those exact words, his face fixed in a patronising smile as he hugged his wife around the shoulders. Passive-aggressive wanker. He’d never taken Eliza’s interest in art seriously. Oh, it was fine for a hobby, but he couldn’t see the value in it so therefore assumed no one else would either. He’d been the one to steer her away from an arts foundation degree, arguing in that perfectly reasonable tone of his she’d be better off doing something more appealing to prospective employers.
With the grades he’d achieved at school, Martin could have attended the university of his choice, but he’d chosen the same one Eliza and Beth had opted for. It had a decent enough computer science course, but there were others with a better reputation. The important thing for both he and Eliza had been to be together. Still deep in the throes of first love, nothing and nobody had been able to dissuade them otherwise. Beth had thought them too young, Martin too controlling in his need to be with Eliza all the time, and had tried to say so. It was one of the few serious fights the two of them had had, and in the end Beth h
ad swallowed her doubts rather than risk destroying their friendship. Beth sighed. If anyone had tried to criticise Charlie to her, she’d likely have done the same thing. Tender hearts rarely listened to anything which didn’t fit their ideal.
‘Earth to Beth.’
Eliza waved a hand in front of her face, and she blinked back into the present. ‘Sorry, I was woolgathering.’
Her friend wrinkled her nose. ‘By the expression on your face, you were thinking about he-who-shall-remain-nameless.’
Beth held up her hands. ‘Guilty as charged. Bloody hell, did you always know he was a total arse?’
‘Always.’ She softened the blow with a kiss and another fragrant hug. ‘But then I know what you and Libby both think of Martin, so it’s swings and roundabouts.’
She thought about arguing the point. Whilst she and Charlie were history, Eliza was still very much married. In the end, she copped out. ‘As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.’ They looked at each for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
‘God, but you’re a terrible liar, B, always have been,’ Eliza said between giggles.
A knock on the front door startled them both and they turned to see Libby with her mouth pressed against the glass. She’d blown out her cheeks, the way they used to do as kids, pulling a hideous face which set them off again. ‘Look at the bloody mess you’ve made on my nice clean window!’ Beth wagged a finger at Libby as she pulled open the door.
Libby tugged the sleeve of her jumper down and rubbed it vigorously over the wet mark, smearing it further. ‘Look, see, all fixed.’ She raised the arm she’d been holding behind her back to show a bottle of pink Lambrini. ‘So, are we having a party, or what?’
An eternal goth, she’d paired thick-soled boots with the skinniest black jeans, a black and red striped jumper and ears full of studs. The rainbow hair had been covered in jet-black dye and stood up in all directions. She reminded Beth of a miniature Dennis the Menace, and she said so.
Libby gave a graceful twirl, which shouldn’t have been possible in a pair of thick-soled Doc Martin’s. ‘You’re just jealous of my style, B.’
Eliza grabbed the bottle from her with a hoot. ‘Where the hell did you find this?’ She shuddered. ‘Just looking at it makes my head ache.’
Libby snatched it back. ‘Hey! I don’t care what kind of swill you drink these days, but I’m loyal to our past. It was this or a six-pack of Babycham.’
Beth shut and locked the door. ‘Come on upstairs, the pair of you. You’re supposed to be here to help me, not just get drunk.’
Libby’s heavy boots thudded on the steps behind her. ‘I vote we do both.’
‘Me too,’ Eliza piped up from behind her. ‘Two to one, you’re outvoted, Beth. Get the glasses out.’
Chapter Eleven
By the time the Lambrini bottle was empty, they’d managed a layer of undercoat on the two biggest walls. Libby dropped her roller into the tray, knuckling the base of her back to stretch it. ‘Right,’ she declared. ‘I’m on strike until you feed me!’
Happy for an excuse to stop herself, Beth placed the brush she’d been using to edge along the skirting into a jar of cloudy water and stripped off the bandana she’d used to tie back her hair. ‘I thought we might get a takeaway, if that’s all right with you two?’
‘Perfect!’
‘Ooh, can we have pizza? I haven’t had pizza in ages.’
Libby and Eliza almost tripped over each other in their eagerness to respond. Knowing only too well her own shortcomings in the kitchen, Beth tapped her chin, pretending to consider the point further. ‘Or, I could make us something. It’s the least I should do to thank you both for helping me out like this.’
Their responses were even quicker this time:
‘Oh, no. Don’t put yourself to any trouble!’
‘It’s our pleasure to help you, B, that’s what best friends are for.’
She looked between the two of them; she could tell by the way Libby’s eyebrow was twitching she was trying not to wince, and burst out laughing. ‘God, you two are so easy to wind up! The menu’s on the pinboard in the kitchen. Come on.’
Bypassing the board, Libby went straight for the fridge and grabbed a fresh bottle of wine. ‘Who needs a menu? You and Eliza will split a large Hawaiian, because you’re freaks who think hot fruit is an acceptable topping, and I’ll have a regular spicy sausage.’
It had been their staple order whenever they were together, and Beth couldn’t help but smile when she gave the details to Gina over the phone and the woman added, ‘And two garlic breads, right, Beth? I heard Eliza was home for the weekend so I’ve been expecting your call. It’ll be about twenty minutes. Shall I send Davey to the back gate?’
‘Yes, please. We’ll keep an eye out for him.’
‘All right, love. How are things, by the way? I can’t tell you how thrilled we both were that you’re going to keep the emporium going. It’s been such a feature of the prom for so many years, the town just wouldn’t be the same without it.’
Beth knocked her head against the wall. She knew Gina meant well, and of course her return would be the talk of the town, but the weight of expectation didn’t help the butterflies in her tummy. The moment she opened the doors, everyone would be in to have a good snoop around and offer their opinions on what she’d done with the place.
She sighed. ‘It’s a lot of work, Gina. A bit more than I expected, if I’m honest.’ She felt a nudge at her elbow and smiled gratefully to Libby when she handed her a brimming glass of wine. ‘But I’ve got plenty of helping hands, I just hope people like what I’ve done with the place.’
‘You’ll be grand, sweetie. Don’t let those busybodies from the improvement society intimidate you. That leader of theirs is a nosy baggage. You know she came in here and told Davey we should consider upgrading our menu. Like this town hasn’t run on our pizzas and kebabs for the past twenty-five years. Bloody cheek!’
Beth sipped her wine, and made appropriate ‘uh-hum’ noises, letting Gina’s diatribe wash over her. Hester had clearly ruffled the woman’s feathers, and there was a real sense of hurt beneath the angry words filling Beth’s ear. It would be easy for a stranger to make assumptions about the type of establishment Gina and Davey ran, but the food was all freshly prepared with ingredients of the highest quality. Yes, it was a takeaway, but not the kind that had drunks spilling out onto the pavement after the pubs closed. Gina finally ran out of steam and let Beth go with a promise to call them if she needed anything.
‘Wow, who stuck a bee in Gina’s bonnet?’ Eliza asked with a smile as Beth hung up.
‘Mrs Bradshaw, on behalf of the improvement society. Suggested they should upgrade from pizza and kebabs to stuffed ravioli and mezze.’
Libby snorted into her wine, choking so hard Eliza had to give her a thump on the back. ‘Oh, to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation!’
Beth giggled. ‘I know! I bet it wasn’t the ravioli that ended up stuffed.’
Libby choked again. ‘That woman desperately needs to find a hobby before she turns the whole bloody town against her.’
‘Oh, I’m sure she means well.’ Typical Eliza, keen to see the best in everyone.
‘Sam told me she’d been hinting about the pub needing a facelift too…and he kissed me.’ Beth had no idea what possessed her to blurt out her confession.
‘The pub? Our pub? Cheeky mare! Wait…what?’
Blushing, Beth glanced from Libby’s knowing grin to Eliza’s open-mouthed expression of shock. ‘Twice, actually.’
‘Where? When? Come on I need details! And shut your mouth, Eliza, it’s not like this hasn’t been brewing for years.’
Eliza glugged a mouthful of her wine. ‘Yes, you’re right, but still the thought of anyone kissing my brother is a bit…’ She shuddered, though her eyes were full of humour.
Taking her own fortifying drink, Beth held up her hand. ‘Before you get too excited, we’ve decided to stick to
just being friends.’
‘What? Why?’ Libby demanded. ‘You two are a match if ever I saw one, I think you’d be great together.’
Beth shook her head. ‘It’s too complicated, and not the right time for either of us.’ She waved her arm to indicate the space around her, almost spilling her wine in the process. ‘I need to put all of my focus into this place, and Sam’s got his hands full with the pub, and…’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them about the restaurant idea, but it wasn’t her news to share. ‘everything. It’s bad timing.’ She was starting to hate those two words.
A familiar toot-toot sounded from the street below, and Beth grabbed her purse. ‘Saved by the bell!’ She hurried out of the flat and down the stairs.
Libby followed her out to lean over the top bannister rail. ‘It’ll take more than a pizza to save you, B. We want all the gory details!’
Beth took her time collecting the pizzas, trying to concentrate on the friendly conversation with Davey as he refused her offer of a tip and carefully counted out the change she was owed. She pocketed the coins, and had just balanced the pizza boxes on one hand when he reached into his car to produce a plastic carrier bag. ‘Here, Gina sent you each a slice of tiramisu, on the house.’
‘Oh, Davey, that’s very kind, but you should let me pay for them.’ Beth had her hand halfway to her pocket before he waved her off.
‘Don’t you dare! You know she likes to spoil you girls when she can. Just make sure she has an invitation to your grand opening, and that’ll be payment enough. She hasn’t stopped talking about how pleased she is to see you picking up where Eleanor left off.’
Grand opening? Beth swallowed hard. She’d hoped everyone would be busy enough with their own businesses that she’d be able to open the doors to the emporium quietly in the run up to Easter. From what Davey was saying, that didn’t sound like the case. ‘I…I’ll make sure to let her know the date.’
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