Tickled Pink

by Christina Jones

  ‘She said she had some business in the area so she was just booking on a day-to-day basis, but hopefully she’ll be here for the week. Mind you, she was a bit sour-faced.’

  Lola giggled, ‘I’m sure that’s what everyone said about me when I arrived, too. Well, good night then . . .’

  ‘Night.’

  Lola swung across the stone-flagged hall towards the skewwhiff stairs. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so happy. So alive. She touched her lips gently with her fingers, reliving the kiss, and wanted to laugh out loud.

  As she passed the desk at the foot of the stairs, the register was open. Against the day’s date was one entry. The new visitor to Sunny Dene. The name printed out by Dominic and signed in a strong black scrawl.

  Barbara Marion.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, Posy hitched herself up on to one of the shop counters and surveyed her empire. She and Flynn had spent many mornings in the empty shop – try as she might, she’d forever think of it as The Stuffed-Ferret Emporium – scraping years of grime from the windows, sweeping the floors, washing down walls, and now, thanks to a thoroughly disturbed night, she knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

  The surge of entrepreneurial inspiration had come somewhere in the small hours, while unable to sleep because of a lot of door slamming, and feet running up and down Sunny Dene’s skewwhiff stairs, and prolonged loo flushing.

  The shop was going to be called Gear Change, and she was going to hurl it open to the cash-rich dowagers of Steeple Fritton. The idea had germinated from Ellis’s schemes to make money from the weekenders and the Fritton landed gentry, and Lola’s suggestion for a fancy dress store.

  Now, well, since last night, the ferret emporium was going to be a second-hand clothes shop, opening three days a week – where people could cash in on their last-season’s designer labels, or chain store mistakes. The owners of the clothes put their own price tag on their garments, and when the clothes were sold, half the price would be returned to them and Posy and Gear Change would keep the rest.

  Since first light, Posy had been belting around the village on the BMW, letting everyone know what she’d planned to do and begging for their cast-offs. Within two hours she had her first pile of black sacks and boxes of clothes stacked in the doorway.

  ‘What the heck was going on at the B&B this morning?’ Flynn asked, leaning on his broom. ‘I heard Lola walking the floor most of the night, and then she stormed out dead early.’

  ‘No idea,’ Posy shrugged. ‘But I know she kept me awake most of the night and nearly took the door off its hinges when she went out. And I couldn’t get any sense out of Mum and Dad when I asked them. Mum’s got her first hangover for more than twenty years, and Dad thinks he’s about to become rich and famous and kept offering me his autograph.’

  Flynn laughed. ‘Yeah, well, Norrie deserves his moment of glory. He was amazing. And Mr D and Mr B made ace divas, too. It was an all-round great night.’

  ‘Which makes Lola’s behaviour even more weird. I mean, after last night’s roaring success I’d have thought she would be on Cloud Nine.’

  ‘Thunder Cloud Nine by the look of things. I reckoned she’d be back for breakfast but she wasn’t, and she wasn’t in The Crooked Sixpence just now when I checked to see how Queen Mab was doing.’

  Posy tried not to smile at the tenderness in his voice. She was pretty sure that the cadence change was for Queen Mab – not Lola. At least, she hoped so. Still, she, better than most people, understood how Flynn felt about his twenty-ton baby. After all, she loved the BMW like a child.

  ‘Maybe she had something important to do in Reading or Newbury or somewhere. Something boring that she’d forgotten about. Like the books for The Crooked Sixpence or VAT returns or something. She’s bound to be back in the pub for lunch-time opening.’

  Flynn didn’t look convinced. ‘Yeah, maybe so. Although I think Ellis might have something to do with it.’

  ‘Ellis? Why?’

  ‘Well, look, I don’t want this to upset you, but Dom told me that Ellis kissed Lola last night. Seems he watched them through the window.’

  ‘Sneaky little pervert,’ Posy giggled. ‘And why on earth would it upset me? There’s nothing between me and Ellis, and he kisses everyone. He even kissed me once. He was probably only being friendly and Lola certainly wouldn’t have let him kiss her if she didn’t want him too . . . God, do you mind?’

  ‘Nope.’ Flynn grinned at her. ‘Lola isn’t my type. I like her very much, and we’re good friends, but she doesn’t push my buttons.’

  ‘So, your Vanessa in Boston isn’t an elegant blonde, then?’

  ‘Far from it. Wild and red haired, with a temperament to match.’ Flynn stared across the empty shop for a moment, then shrugged, ‘And history. Say, who was that severe-looking woman in the dining room this morning?’

  ‘No idea. She nearly bit my head off when I was serving breakfast, though. Ignorant old trout. Dom says she booked in last night. I know we need all the money we can get, but I hope she doesn’t stay long. Now, what are we going to do next?’

  Flynn twirled the broom. ‘Unpack the bags and boxes? Now you’ve had the idea and got some stock, I guess it’d make sense to try getting the rails and shelves filled and sell some of it.’

  ‘When Ritchie and I had talked about taking this shop over, I’d always imagined we’d run it as a sort of bric-a-brac place. Junk shop – don’t know what you’d call it – but somehow that doesn’t seem such a good idea now. Not when everyone else in this row seems to be working flat out to up their profiles and become competitive with Harrods. I think Gear Change strikes about the right balance and certainly corners about the last gap in the market.’

  ‘Junk doesn’t seem to be a great money-spinner,’ Flynn agreed. ‘You’d just get lumbered with everyone’s dust-gatherers. And I’d guess that the car boot sales on the common have probably cornered the market in selling second-hand rubbish.’

  ‘I’m not going to be selling second-hand rubbish!’ Flynn laughed. ‘A rose by any other name . . .’

  Before she could further defend her entrepreneurial dream, the door flew open.

  ‘Hi, Flynn –’ Ritchie stood in the doorway. ‘Seems like I missed a great night last night with the karaoke. I wish I’d been working, but – oh, hello, Pose.’

  ‘Hi . . .’ Posy tried to appear disinterested. It was difficult. Ritchie was looking at his most attractive: not all ironed and pristine Mr Upholstery Department Manager, but jeans and a sweatshirt, sort of rumpled looking. ‘Why are you scooting round the village on a weekday morning? Have you been sacked?’

  He shook his head, looking discomfited. ‘It’s Sonia’s last but one hospital visit before the baby’s due. She’s along at Bickeridges buying more supplies of jelly. She eats it by the kilo. Straight from the packet. Doesn’t even break it into cubes. Turns my stomach to be honest. I thought I’d just pop in and see if Flynn was here and find out about the karaoke –’

  ‘Crap,’ Posy said, swinging her legs idly from the counter and hoping that she looked cool. ‘You knew I’d be here and you just couldn’t resist it.’

  Flynn laughed, turning it into a cough as Ritchie looked at him.

  ‘Well, you’ve seen me now.’ Posy slid from the counter. ‘So don’t let us hold you up, then. No doubt you’re absolutely gagging to get up to the Royal Berks and run through the pushing and heaving and blood and gore.’

  Ritchie winced. ‘We’re having the birthing pool and Marti Pellow.’

  ‘Bet Marti’s looking forward to that.’

  This time Flynn didn’t even attempt to disguise his snort of laughter.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re going to open this place up as a clothes shop,’ Ritchie ignored Flynn and glared at Posy instead. ‘Not when we were going to make it into a real nice antique shop.’

  ‘Ah, yes ... I vaguely remember. That was before you couldn’t resist the charms of Miss Shagability,
wasn’t it? Somewhere in the dim and distant past when I trusted you with my life and you lied your socks off to me?’

  Ritchie went red. ‘Yeah, okay, but it just seems really funny that you’re doing things without me.’

  ‘Oh, I know. I felt much the same about being at your wedding, only sitting in the audience instead of being up front in the co-starring role.’

  They stared at one another. Flynn, still clutching his broom, beat a tactical retreat into the storeroom. Ritchie looked embarrassed and scuffed his trainers across the clinically clean floor, and Posy took a deep breath. It was getting better. Just a bit. She didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as she had. The thought of him with Sonia no longer kept her awake at night, although the baby was still a bit of a bugger.

  ‘Can you tell me something? Something I never felt brave enough to ask before. Was it just Sonia that you cheated with, or were there hordes of them during the years we were, well, us?’

  ‘Only Sonia,’ Ritchie raised his head and met her eyes. ‘Just Sonia. And I wish to God it hadn’t been.’

  ‘Oh, you mean you wish there’d been an entire harem?’ Posy felt very relieved. She believed him. It was nice to know she hadn’t been a serial-cuckold. It was also satisfying to know that Ritchie and Sonia weren’t blissfully happy. Mean, yes, but she was only human.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Ritchie frowned.

  ‘Yes, of course I do. Oh, and one more thing. Was it the thongs? Should I have worn thongs instead of just knickers? Would thongs have saved our relationship?’

  ‘Not the thongs. Honest. I didn’t know about the thongs until, er, until, well, later . . . It was just this stupid feeling that there’d never been anyone else but you, and after we were married there’d never be anyone else, and I just sometimes wondered what it would be like. And Sonia was always there, always hanging around, and I knew she fancied me and I was flattered. Then one night I was out with my mates from work and Sonia was in this pub and we were both drunk and I thought, well, I thought just once. It was only supposed to be just once. But we got a bit involved and –’

  ‘Spare me the dot-to-dot.’ Posy turned away from him. He’d never told her how it actually happened. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. ‘I get the picture.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘For me, yourself, or Sonia?’

  ‘All of us. It’s a mess.’

  She looked at him. ‘It’s life, Ritchie. It’s happened, and we’ve all got to get on with it. Especially you. Especially for the baby’s sake.’

  Christ! She sounded almost grown-up and sensible. How scary.

  ‘I wish I could turn the clock back. I wish –’

  ‘Stop it, Ritchie. We’ve already said all this. Now run along, go and hold Sonia’s hand and make the best of it.’ A blob appeared in the doorway, blocking out the sun. It was like the prelude to a horror film.

  ‘What’re you doing in here?’ Sonia rumbled angrily through a massive mouthful of jelly cubes. Her teeth were disconcertingly scarlet. ‘You’re supposed to be with me.’

  ‘Just what I was telling him,’ Posy smiled sweetly. ‘He seemed to have forgotten. Old habits and all that.’

  ‘You’re a right clever-mouth, Posy Nightingale! I’d like to remind you that I’m the one wearing the wedding ring! Look!’

  Sonia thrust out her pudgy left hand and made an angry rocking movement forward. Posy groaned. She hoped she wasn’t going to fall over. They’d never get her on her feet again without a block and tackle.

  Ritchie grabbed Sonia’s arm. ‘Come on, babes. We’re going to be late for the clinic.’

  Babes? Babes? Oh, yuck!

  Sonia wriggled herself away from him and pushed her bloated face towards Posy. ‘I warned you once before and I’m warning you again, you keep away from him. See?’

  ‘God, yes. Of course I see.’ Posy tossed her curls and pulled her tight T-shirt down to the studded belt round her jeans. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll stay well away from him. I mean, look what happened to you. You were size 8 once, weren’t you? You’d be lucky to get into an 18 now, and of course it won’t disappear once the baby arrives. God, no. There’ll be cellulite and stretch marks and saggy bits and layers of fat for the rest of your life. So sad. The thongs will be but a dim and distant memory. You’ll have to keep an eye on Ritchie then, won’t you? I mean, once a cheater always a cheater. Bye.’

  She stomped into the storeroom, listening gleefully as Sonia was dragged from the shop by Ritchie, still spouting vitriol.

  ‘Ouch,’ Flynn looked at her. ‘That was mean.’

  ‘I know,’ Posy sighed. ‘Not like me at all. Completely out of character. But it’s made me feel a whole lot better.’

  ‘Has it?’

  ‘Yeah . . . well, sort of. Actually I was feeling better about it anyway. And I know it was cruel, but I hate her. I hated her before she screwed around with Ritchie. She’s just really unpleasant. Always has been. It’s sometimes nice to be able to let off steam, isn’t it?’

  Flynn grinned. ‘I guess so. Me and Queen Mab think so anyway. Hey, would you fancy being steersman in the carnival procession?’

  ‘Me? Wow. Yes, I’d love to have a go.’

  ‘You declined the offer before, when we first fetched her from Fritton Magna.’

  ‘I know,’ Posy sighed. ‘I was still being a misery guts then. Nothing suited me. Life’s different now. Do you know, being here in the village and facing up to the problems was the only way to go. Persephone’s owner was dead right.’

  ‘Uh?’ Flynn frowned.

  ‘Long story. Okay, now what shall we do?’

  ‘Get on your bike and deliver this.’ On cue, Ellis stuck his head through the storeroom doorway. ‘I’ve got a busload waiting to go to Newbury so I can’t take it. It’s a package for Fox Hollow. Urgent. It was wrongly delivered in Fritton Magna so I’ve done a deal with the regular courier. It’s about the same size as the one you took to Mapleford, so it’ll fit in the top box.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll go now,’ Posy nodded. ‘Oh, and have you got Lola tucked away somewhere? Good God, Ellis Blissit! Are you blushing?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t do blushing. And I haven’t seen Lola this morning. Why?’

  ‘We heard all about your amorous exploits last night,’ Posy grinned. ‘And Lola went missing from Sunny Dene early on. She’s not in the pub so we just wondered if she’d found her way into your bedroom.’

  Strangely, Ellis didn’t laugh. ‘I haven’t seen her. Shit, I wish I hadn’t got the coven all strapped into their seats otherwise I’d go and look for her. Have you tried her mobile?’

  ‘Don’t even know if she’s got a mobile,’ Posy said. ‘Do you?’

  Ellis shook his head. He did look worried, Posy thought. Maybe he’d tried to take it further than kissing and Lola had said no and Ellis had pushed his luck.

  ‘You didn’t try to, um, well, you know . . . last night?’

  ‘No I bloody didn’t!’ Ellis’s eyes flashed. ‘Christ, Posy. You should know me better than that. Look, if Lola shows up, ask her ring me. You’ve got my mobile number. If she’s unhappy about anything I’d like to try and help.’

  ‘Yes, sure. Sorry. Look, leave the parcel by the door and I’ll take it out to Fox Hollow straight away, then we could all meet up in the pub later and see what Lola’s problem is.’

  There was a fanfare of horns from outside. Ellis growled. ‘Sodding hell! Sometimes I wish Tatty would act her age not her shoe size. I’ll have to go. See you later.’

  ‘He looks pretty concerned,’ Flynn said, as Ellis stormed out of the shop. ‘I guess he must really like Lola.’

  Posy shrugged. ‘I think they’ve always got on well. But Tatty would have something to say about it, I reckon, if Ellis has any ideas of making it more than liking. Oh, well, I’ll nip out to Fox Hollow and earn some money, then. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Come with you.’

  ‘What, in the jeep?’

&nb
sp; ‘On the back of the bike, if that’s okay with you. I haven’t ridden pillion for years.’

  ‘Okay,’ Posy grinned. ‘But I hope you’re not a wuss.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Never mind. There’s a spare crash helmet in the hall cupboard at Sunny Dene so at least your head’ll be okay. I’m not going to make any promises about the rest of you.’

  The journey from Steeple Fritton to Fox Hollow was a good one for the bike and a testing one for Posy. Lots of nice straight roads linked by tiny, winding, bendy ones. From Berkshire into the Oxfordshire countryside on a glorious day, riding the BMW with Flynn on the pillion was a bit of a dream come true. In the spring sunshine, with puffballs of white cloud flecking the sky, and very few people around, Posy and the bike both rose to the challenge, and swooped and soared happily.

  Flynn, she was pleased to discover, knew exactly what he was doing, and leaned back against the top box, relaxed, trusting her. Not that she’d have complained if he’d clung on round her waist, she thought, with a grin into her scarf. She wouldn’t have minded that at all.

  And he’d been a real sport about wearing the spare crash helmet which was fondant pink.

  Fox Hollow arrived all too quickly. She pulled the BMW into the forecourt of what looked like a warehouse standing alone at the end of a lane miles from anywhere, switched off the engine and removed her helmet. Flynn had already swung his legs from the bike, and having taken off his crash helmet was running his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Pretty cool.’ His eyes shone. ‘I’d forgotten how much fun it was. You’re one ace driver.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She was secretly delighted. Ritchie had always been such a namby-pamby about the bike. It was great to have the bike’s performance, and yes, okay, her own prowess, appreciated. ‘God, this place looks deserted.’

  ‘Are you sure you have the right address?’

  She nodded, tugging the thick oblong package from the BMW’s top box. ‘It’s printed on here. Bradley-Morland. Honeysuckle Lane. Fox Hollow. This is it. Hey – wow!’