Nik sat up. ‘There’s only one vintage camera and film processing shop I know of in the whole of Sydney.’ He reached into his rucksack and lifted out a clunky old-fashioned film camera. ‘I’m a huge fan myself and have even got my own dark room at home – yes, hands up, I’m a bit of a photography nerd,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing quite like the excitement of developing your own negatives.’
‘Then you’d love Mr Wilson’s collection – almost as much as he’d love showing you around. Since the proliferation of phones with cameras their shop is often empty and certainly the only young customers he has are photography students.’ I paused. ‘You’re most welcome to tag along, as I head into work. Springhaye is about forty minutes on the train from here and it would take you just half an hour from there to get back into London later. It stops at King’s Cross which isn’t far from Islington. You could pop into Under the Tree afterwards. I’m sure my colleague, Seb, could cover whilst I have a quick coffee with you in the staff room before you leave. Although I imagine you must be tired, so please feel welcome to pop in any other day, if you prefer.’
‘I’d love to come with you, if you’re sure you don’t mind! That breakfast has re-energised me and I’ve nothing else planned.’ His face broke into a smile. ‘Thanks, Jess.’
2
The door’s bell rang and I turned around as Nik wheeled in his suitcase. The lunch hour rush had just passed and the shop only had a couple of customers. Winter sunrays poured indoors with him.
‘Welcome to Under the Tree.’ I beamed.
Nik put down his rucksack.
‘Was Mr Wilson as pleased to see you as I thought?’
Nik let out a low whistle. ‘What an amazing shop – he’s a real gent and let me study all the vintage cameras and wanted to take a look at mine. I’ve never seen such a range of analogue equipment. I could have spent hours looking at the range of lenses and he had a beautiful camera with a chrome and leather body. Its focal length lenses are really interesting. It’s one of the more reasonably priced ones as well. I’ve only seen it online before and am really tempted. It’s just come into stock and I’ve wanted a Pentax for ages.’
‘You’ll have made his day.’
Nik looked around.
‘That’s the reading area I was telling you about,’ I said. I couldn’t help feeling proud as I pointed straight ahead, past the till, to a section of the shop with red carpet and cushions on the floor alongside open picture books. Nothing pleased me more than seeing little ones ensconced in there, on a dark, wintry afternoon. Surrounding the square of red carpet was a wooden library of stories for older children. In the centre of the shop’s main floor was a table covered in pocket money priced toys. On the walls were shelves full of board games and plushies, building bricks, dolls and drawing equipment – plus one area dedicated to merchandise from well-known brands based on television series. The floor was beech laminate and the walls magnolia. The ceiling was eggshell-blue with white clouds painted on, along with yellow sunrays projecting out from the front right corner, above the door.
‘Love that,’ Nik said, pointing to the corner opposite, diagonally. A huge Christmas tree was painted on the wall, with sparkling baubles and a fairy on top.
‘The shelf projecting out from under the lowest branches features our toy of the week. The current one is a kit to make your own insect house.’
‘The whole vibe here is really cosy.’
‘You can say small if you want to.’ I grinned.
‘I don’t mean that, Jess. What I’m saying is… I can see this place has got soul. Some shops I visit are sterile and clinical with staff wearing crease-free uniforms and plastic shelves full of regimented stock.’
‘No chance of us being that tidy here.’
His eyes crinkled at the corners and made me want to joke again.
‘There’s nothing better than a toy shop that feels like home,’ he said.
‘Jessie! Finally it’s quiet enough for a proper chat. How was Nuremberg? Did you try any German sausage?’
I smiled at my assistant. His eyes flickered with amusement.
‘No, but the apple strudel was excellent. This is Nik. His family own a toy manufacturing company and he was also in Germany. Nik, please meet my assistant, Seb.’
‘Ah sorry, I thought you were a customer browsing.’ Seb reached out his hand, biceps bulging in his tight shirt.
Nik shook it enthusiastically. ‘Great to meet you.’
‘How about I get three coffees, Jess, and you can tell me all about the trip?’
I gave him a thumbs-up. Nik wandered off towards the reading area, picking up a child’s dropped beaker as he passed a buggy. Seb moved closer to me.
‘So… you had a good trip? I’m glad. You deserve it.’ Seb jerked his head towards Nik. ‘How? When? Where?’
‘We were on the same flight. Earlier this morning. Above the North Sea.’
‘It’s great not to be given your usual answers of online, late last night after drinks and Tinder.’
‘That was only once and taught me never to trust a profile picture again.’
‘That’s ageist, Jess. You’ve got to take your hat off to anyone in their eighties trying to get a date.’ He glanced at Nik. ‘Clearly this time you’ve nothing against white hair.’
‘This is business. Pure and simple.’
‘Really? Given half a chance I’d—’
‘Coffees please, Seb. Don’t make me use my managerial voice,’ I said, trying to keep a serious face.
Seb had joined the team five years ago, whereas I’d been selling toys here since I was eighteen. I’d even come up with the shop’s name, which was meant to give the sense of it being Christmas all year around. There wasn’t one toy I disapproved of selling – they all had an important place in a child’s life, regardless of whether they were produced to educate or just share cuddles with. I’d never received many gifts as a young child. Somehow, over the years, working here had compensated.
I told Nik more about my job as we sat in the staff room. Seb had offered to man the shop as we had an unexpected rush of customers.
‘Angela’s brilliant,’ I said. ‘Over the last eighteen months she’s worked hard towards opening another shop and has started to pass more responsibility to me.’
‘That’s great.’
‘It is and I’m really excited to have been given this opportunity to prove myself…’
‘I sense a but…’
I drained my cup. ‘I’m just being silly.’
He leant forwards, eyebrows raised, encouraging me to explain.
‘This trade fair was the first I’d been to. Angela came and spent the first day with me – before going to Munich to stay with friends for a few days. She’s back after the weekend. I have to admit – I felt completely out of my depth.’
‘But wasn’t it exciting, leaving your comfort zone? My company has got complacent and that’s why I’m doing this trip. We need to challenge ourselves. I’ve had an idea of how we might do that but need to research and I feel more fired up about work than I have for years.’
‘True. I can’t deny the thrill I got from researching the direction our stock might take next year and to be given the opportunity to attend seminars such as the one about current market trends. My hand ached afterwards, I took so many notes. I felt so comfortable talking to other retail managers.’ It was still sinking in that little old jet-setting me had spent the last few days hobnobbing with fellow industry types and had been taken seriously as a contender. ‘But I’m worried about letting Angela down. The sheer size of the fair, with the thousands of products and visitors… and I don’t think I saw nearly enough of the technological toys promotion area nor—’
‘Me neither. But we aren’t superheroes and can only do our best.’
‘That’s exactly the sort of thing my gran would say.’
‘My Grams too. She was a fantastic sounding board, if I didn’t want to worry Mum or Dad. I knew she loved me to bi
ts, but being one step back from actually bringing me into the world, with that little bit of emotional distance that parents don’t have, she was able to give me real perspective.’
‘I know what you mean. Even though Gran brought me up from the age of nine and we’re really close, I’ve always felt she could mentally take a step back when it came to my problems and offer logical solutions.’
‘Is she happy at her care home?’
‘Willow Court is great. The warden, Lynn, treats residents like family and does her best to make everyone as happy as they can be, whatever their challenges, whether it’s with dementia or mobility. I don’t know how she finds the energy, each year, to help organise the Christmas party. But it means so much to Gran and her friends. Lynn makes sure they all have their part to play and everyone is still talking about it well into the New Year.’
‘She’s made good friends there?’ he said and accepted a third biscuit.
‘Oh yes. Flamboyant Pan is her closest. Then there’s Alf – he’s a lovable rogue. And Nancy is always so cheerful despite the challenges of recently having to use a wheelchair.’
‘It sounds like a lovely place.’
‘I’m visiting tomorrow after work. You’re welcome to join me,’ I said in a jokey tone.
Seb’s head appeared around the door. ‘Sorry to intrude but things are getting busy out here – it’s as if the whole of Springhaye suddenly thinks Christmas is in two days and not two months. And there’s a phone call for you, Jessie.’
Nik looked at his watch, stood up and shot me an apologetic look. ‘Sorry, Jess, I’m getting in the way.’
‘Not at all – it is my day off but I really ought to help out. Unpaid hours – now there’s a perk of moving out of your comfort zone.’
We both smiled and he followed me as I hurried out of the staff room and went to the phone by the till.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ I said to Nik as he picked up his rucksack and gripped his pull-along case. I put the receiver to my ear, surprised to find it was Gran. My mobile was still on airplane mode so she’d had to ring the shop instead of my personal number. Her voice sounded all choked up. I turned away from the shop floor, heart racing as she kept on talking. Feeling sick, I eventually ended the call and turned back but all that was left of Nik was his business card on the counter.
3
Gran read out the email she’d received over the phone that evening. Oliver saw my expression and insisted on accompanying me to visit the next day. As did Buddy – for him the words Willow Court meant countless tickles and dog treats. Gran’s hooded eyes met my gaze as soon as I walked in and rushed over to hug her. I’d never get used to her being smaller than me.
‘Que sera, sera,’ she said in a resigned tone. She clutched a tissue but her cheeks were dry. I couldn’t ever remember seeing her cry. Stiffly she lowered herself into a brown armchair that she’d covered with a colourful throw. I sat on the bed. Oliver joined me after kissing her on the cheek – a kiss that would have normally pinked up her face. Even though he frequently beat her at cards, Gran always said what an appealing young man he was, with his athletic build, tawny crew cut and caring attitude.
Or rather, on the quiet, with a mischievous grin she’d tell me he was a right sort – and I’d tell her she had to stop picking up new words from Love Island. However, I had to agree and often wondered if it was normal to admire your flatmate… your friend… when he came out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his waist. I concluded it was. It didn’t mean anything. I thought Seb was good-looking. It didn’t mean I fancied him.
Gran’s room was furnished in a welcoming way, with warm laminate flooring and floral curtains. Photos of me and her last dog, Buster, stood on the windowsill, along with a higgledy-piggledy stack of books – Gran was supremely grateful for the mobile library. The room had a spotless ensuite bathroom and she still saved leftover bits of soap to make new bars.
‘But why… I mean… how…?’ I shook my head and pulled off my hat and scarf. Outside, clouds tried to crowd out the ambitious sun. ‘I can’t believe it – Willow Court… closing down for sure?’
‘They couldn’t even give you a date or tell you in person, with a relative at hand for support?’ Oliver shook his head. ‘But don’t you worry – we’ll see you through this, Alice.’
Gran stroked Buddy’s cheek, running a hand across the Labradoodle blonde curls that Oliver joked matched mine. His chin rested on her jogging bottoms and her forehead smoothed out as those brown doggy eyes stared lovingly into her face.
‘Lynn didn’t want to worry us,’ she said eventually. ‘But since the summer we’ve all heard the rumours of financial problems. It’s tough for her too, losing her job as warden. Perhaps she was in denial. They’re saying the money troubles got worse over the last few weeks and the owners now find themselves in a pickle. Apparently some of the facilities are considered outdated, as well, and they just haven’t got the money to re-equip the place to the necessary standards. A hotel has put in an offer and they’ve snapped that up. In a few months’ time some fancy, schmanzy business type could be enjoying my view.’
Gran glanced out of the window. It always looked grubby lately. She focused on the river, just as rain began to fall. Long grass edged its banks, sprinkled with the delicate colours of wildflowers in the summer. Willow Court was an attractive building – red brick and sprawling like a ranch, all the rooms being ground floor. It was dual-registered, meaning it was a residential care home but had a nursing care wing as well. Some rooms were paid for publicly, other were self-funded, depending on a particular resident’s circumstances. Cash-strapped Gran had been lucky to get a place here. A barge glided past bearing jolly flowerpots and then went out of view behind a huge weeping willow. She often waved to holidaymakers. One time a man responded with an impolite gesture. He lost his balance when Gran sent back the same. When she’d told me about him falling into the water, we’d both laughed until it hurt.
It took a lot to upset her. Or it used to. It was hard observing the change. When you’re in your teens and scolded for not eating your greens you never imagine that, one day, the lines of dialogue will be swapped over.
‘Let me read the email again,’ I said and took her phone. ‘Honestly. It’s not good enough. They should have at least tagged me in.’
‘Lynn was furious,’ said Gran in a flat voice. ‘She said there was no protocol for this kind of situation but it was just common sense and compassionate to involve relatives.’
My eyes scanned the words. ‘Right. So the council is duty bound to find you another place, seeing as they pay for you to stay here. We’ll be given a directory of homes and can research them ourselves and visit, and express a preference as to where you go although that can’t be guaranteed – and any choice mustn’t cost more than Willow Court… blah blah… Your mental and physical health will be reassessed…’ I looked up. ‘Of course, I’ll be with you every step of the way, Gran, at all the appointments and we’ll arrange visits together – that goes without saying.’
‘You’re a good girl,’ she mumbled.
Oliver took the phone and skim-read the screen. ‘We should ring that helpline.’ He clicked on the link. ‘Its website says that closures at short notice are rare but…’ He shrugged. ‘They happen.’
‘Come on. Let’s go down to the dining room. I smelt fish on the way in.’ I laid my coat on the bed, next to Oliver’s, and stood up.
‘Not hungry,’ muttered Gran. ‘I hardly even noticed when my breakfast was late this morning. But before you say it, Missy, I know things aren’t going to feel better on an empty stomach. Isn’t that right, Buddy, my handsome boy?’
He barked.
‘I’ll tell you all about a very nice man I met on the aeroplane yesterday. He’s from Sydney.’
Oliver gave me a sideways glance. ‘That Nik you couldn’t stop talking about last night?’
My ears felt hot.
‘That’s more like it,’ said Gran and
she visibly brightened. ‘You know I’m addicted to Neighbours. I hope you’ve got stories about surfing and beach barbecues.’ She pushed herself up, shaking off Oliver’s offer of help. She ran a hand over the top of the armchair. ‘It all makes sense now. The dining room tables have looked knackered for months, with scratches, and legs wobblier than mine. Last year Lynn said new ones were arriving but we got new table cloths instead and they didn’t make them tables look any younger than if you’d tarted me up in a crop top and mini skirt. Then the seated exercise teacher stopped coming in the spring and we no longer have our fortnightly still life painting class.’
‘That’s a shame. You never did get a nude model,’ I said.
Gran managed a laugh. ‘Good thing too. I can’t think of anything more likely to put me off my dinner. You know, I found it hard to get used to the busyness when I first moved here – all the chatter and wandering residents, the singing sessions and bingo nights… the staff doing goodness knows what with hoists and catheters… but the noise grew on me, like a favourite radio station. Yet lately it’s been quieter than a morgue some days.’ She defiantly pushed the tissue up her sleeve. ‘Leaving our home in Cressmead Tower… my stellar neighbours… that was wrench enough. But I got through that and I’ll get through another move. And… and we’ll have to choose a really special theme for this year’s Christmas bash, seeing as it will be Willow Court’s last one.’
‘We’ll help you make it the best ever,’ said Oliver.
‘Nancy and some of the others have started to talk about the festive food they’d like to cook, to contribute to the buffet. Back in January, in the sales, Pan, me and some others picked up a bundle of cheap craft materials like glitter and foil to make our crackers and decorations. Alf, who trained as a calligrapher when he retired, has been writing the invitation cards for us to fill in. He’s leaving the date of the party blank at the moment, until it can be one hundred per cent confirmed. They look right professional. He’s a diamond, the amount of time he puts in.’
The Winter We Met Page 2