“Remind me never to go to you for counselling,” Helen said to her over her shoulder as she continued to root for carbohydrates and sugar.
“Let me get this straight. Rob, who you’ve been shagging for years, behind my back . . .” She paused for added effect, “suddenly wants to play happy families. Jack comes all the way to Dublin, to personally deliver a ring, meets Rob, and then gets on a plane back to his ex-girlfriend.” Poppy sat back and folded her arms.
Helen found a jar of peanut butter and decided that would have to do. “That’s it, more or less.”
“I don’t know, Helen, it doesn’t make any sense. I need to think. I’ll get to the deception about Rob later, because I can’t believe you hid that from me!”
“You’d have called me a goon!”
“Which you are!”
“The sex is good – was good. There’s only so much an Ann Summer’s toy can do. Oh, hi Lily, I didn’t hear you come in.” Helen shoved a knifeful of peanut butter into her mouth.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Honestly, when are you two going to grow up!” Lily left the kitchen as quickly as she could.
“Sorry,” Helen mouthed to Poppy.
“She’s right, you know. I’ve started to take stock, look at my life and really decide what I want.”
“Sounds ominous – I’ll be doing the same, tomorrow.”
“Ringing Eden back?”
“Yep, see what my options are. Fred was so furious when I told him I wasn’t going to Hong Kong.” Helen made a face as she remembered the conversation. “Then out of the blue he rings me at eight o’clock in the morning, says I’m right, family comes first and I should stay on in London. And they say women are moody!” She shook her head. “He hadn’t wasted any time either. He said he’d sounded out Sarah Ross about going to Hong Kong in my place and that she’d jumped at the chance. She’ll do well there.”
“That one! I thought you said she was about as genuine as a Canal Street Chloe handbag!”
“I was annoyed with her at the time. She kept ringing about work while I was at the hospital. She’s okay behind it all, just a little immature. Maybe I can stay on in London, while the company makes its transition. Even if it’s only for a while – it’ll buy me time. There might even be a consultancy option – that way I could even work from Dublin.” She leant against the counter.
“It’s not really what you want any more though – is it?” Poppy said softly.
“No, but it’s a good job and I don’t know what else I could do. I’m the Lingerie Woman.”
“Start something up with me!” Poppy clapped her hands.
“What? A lingerie designer and a masseuse – anything we start would hardly be legal.”
“Devine Power Incorporated, I like it! We’ll leave it up to the Universe to sort out the details. Let’s put the intention out there and see what manifests.” Poppy’s eyes sparkled with possibilities.
“No more!” Helen put her hands up. “I’m going back to reality – try to pick my life back up. I really had started to think there was such a thing as karma, dharma or whatever you call it.”
“Where are you going?” Poppy asked as Helen started to leave.
“To see Rob – don’t look at me like that.” Helen pulled on a pair of long leather gloves – she sniffed the air. “I meant to ask you earlier, what’s that smell, have you actually got a Sunday roast on?”
“Yes, I’ve started to make some changes in my life, a new healthier way of living.”
“You’re not running off to join the Hare Krishnas, are you?” Helen took the gloves off and sat down. “You can forget about eating roast beef if you are, you know.” Helen looked at her as though talking to a naughty child. “And me just after tempting you back on the bacon butties too.”
“No. It’s all about balance, that’s all.” Poppy smiled. “I’d got so caught up in the theory of life I forgot to actually live it. You know me, I was always signing up for one weekend workshop or another – Heal your Life, Learning to Love Again, the list went on and on. Problem was it was me who couldn’t accept me, not anyone else. I felt like a fraud.”
Helen knew what she meant but had thought Poppy’s addiction to all things alternative was what made her happy, so she’d let her at it. Now she saw it was Poppy’s thing, just as work and status was Helen’s thing. They’d labelled it differently but the underlying problem was the same: low self-esteem.
“I could help my clients, I was great at sorting them out but I forgot to walk my own talk.” Rather than looking bashful, Poppy had an air of calm about her. “I know what works well in my life is meditation but somehow I let it go. I don’t know why because it gave me balance, made life flow more easily – in synchronicity.” Poppy pushed her hair behind her ears. “I keep searching for happiness outside of myself whereas I was really avoiding looking at the hollow feeling inside. I can go to all the workshops, read all the books, but until I’m ready to take the first step and make a commitment, it remains just theory.”
“So you’re committed?”
Poppy nodded vigorously.
“To which asylum?” Helen said.
Poppy playfully swiped her.
“I’m sorry, Pops, I couldn’t help myself.” She looked at Poppy and her eyes blinked softly. “You’ll do great, Poppy. You’re a strong, beautiful woman always looking out for everyone. Just start applying some of that Poppy magic on yourself – try some self-love – and I don’t mean the other kind.” She made circular motions around her privates area, saying nothing in case Lily walked in again.
They quietly giggled as they had done so often as children.
“I’m the same, you know,” Helen went on. “Losing Dad and giving Daniel up left me feeling empty. I filled it with work and buying stuff I didn’t need. But now I can see that I’m still afraid to move on.”
“Fear of the unknown, Helen, that’s natural.”
“But I’ve always been the Lingerie Woman. I’ve no idea what else I could do. Can we really reinvent ourselves at our age?”
“Of course – but you’ve got to be open to opportunities that come your way. Stop living in fear and start trusting the Universe.”
“You’re right, Lily is right, there’s more to life than excessive drink and sex!”
Although for the life of her Helen couldn’t think what.
“You don’t look too convinced, Helen.”
“I’m thinking – what you said about meditation. If it helps you get back on track, maybe you’d teach me. A bit like a gym-buddy, we could do it together.” She perked up at the idea but then frowned. “As long as you won’t turn me into a tofu-loving hippy with hairy legs.”
“You get to keep your Prada, Helen.”
“I could do with a bit of balance – so, if I don’t have to start hugging people or trees, I like the idea of manifesting my desires. When can I start?”
“This week.” Then Poppy added casually, “I’m teaching Angelo too.”
“Angelo, hey,” Helen nodded.
“Shut up, you. Now go on, get out of here. See Rob, do what you’ve got to do.” She’d had a brainwave while they were chatting and she was anxious to get started on her plan.
Helen pulled her gloves back on. Without looking up she said, “Would that be who’s coming to dinner by any chance?”
“Could be,” Poppy said with a blasé swipe of her hand.
“Why, Poppy, after all he’s done for you?” she sighed heavily.
Poppy looked puzzled. “I know – that’s why I’m cooking – to say thank you.”
“I was just getting to like him too and you have go and cook him a homemade dinner. Tell him it was nice knowing him.” Helen ran to the front door, laughing before Poppy could do her serious damage.
“My cooking is improving I’ll have you know. Gordon Ramsay watch out! And, Helen?”
Helen had her hand on the door latch ready to leave.
“What?”
“Pr
omise me one thing: never stop trusting the Universe.”
Chapter 69
Helen pulled up outside Rob’s house for the Sunday dinner he’d promised her. Childhood sweethearts, now a son, they’d come a long way over the twenty years their lives had intertwined. She checked her lipstick in the rear-view mirror. She took a deep breath and wondered for a moment whether she was making the right decision.
When Rob opened the door, an amazing aroma of garlic and herbs wafted from the kitchen. He looked relieved to see her. She had run off to see the American, but she’d come back.
“Wow, smells amazing, Rob! What’s cooking?”
“You, baby,” Rob said, as he popped the cork.
“Champagne – again?”
“That’s not all, wait until you see what I have upstairs.”
He took Helen by the hand and led her up the spiral staircase of his converted mews. Rose petals were scattered and white candles lined the polished wooden steps. The flower petals led to the bed, while hundreds of tiny candles lit the bedroom, like stars in an African sky.
It took Helen’s breath away.
“I told you, I’m HD ready!”
Rob looked handsome in his simple white shirt. His phone vibrated.
“So, what do you think, sweetheart, like it?” he said as he took his phone half out of his trouser pocket, to see who had texted him.
“It’s fabulous, Rob. Do you want to get that?”
“Em, no, it can wait, just work,” he replied, putting his phone on silent.
“Ah, but is it work on a Sunday evening? The thing is, Rob, with you, I’d never know, never be sure. Is it work or a woman? All this is fabulous, but it’s nearly twenty years too late.” Helen stayed standing at the top of the stairs.
“It’s that American kid, isn’t it? Do you think he fancies you, Helen? The older woman and all her sexual experience? Cop on!”
Ignoring his comments, she turned and walked down the steps.
“Where are you going? I told you I’m ready, you agreed to come to dinner. What? You were just playing with me?” He swiftly came down the stairs after her. He held his arms out wide, waiting for her explanation.
“No, Rob, you just weren’t listening to me, you never are. Let’s face it, we both know sooner or later you’ll get bored. I’m here because I said I would be and I like to keep my word. But I also came to tell you I’m done. No more. I’ll be your friend but I can’t be your lover.”
“Do what you like, Helen, I don’t need you anyway!”
“Rob, leave your ego out of this and you’ll see that I’m right. It hasn’t worked until now – it’s not going to work. Start thinking about what you want in life. You’ve been handed a gift, a son. Cherish that – you said it yourself, that when the job, the flashy cars and women are gone, all you’ve got is yourself and if you’re lucky, your family too.”
“Since when did a lingerie designer become a guru?”
“We’re all gurus, Rob, just in different masks.”
Rob threw his eyes to heaven. “What’s this, Helen, some kind of spiritual awakening? Why do women do that, when they reach a certain age? It’s not very sexy you know, this whole enlightenment crap. You’re not like other women your age, Helen – you still look good. That crap is for women with divorce papers and an ever-expanding waistline!” He smirked as he ran his hands through his receding hairline.
Helen took deep breath, remaining silent. He misread her calmness as submission.
“And you need to get your job back, Helen, asap, tomorrow. Come on, let’s eat, I’ll talk you through the legal jargon you can threaten them with. Your mother was dying when you agreed to work in Hong Kong etc. Irish law is based on English law so it’s not that different.”
He was back in control. He’d always managed to talk her round and tonight would be no different. He took Helen’s elbow to guide her through to the kitchen.
Helen didn’t budge.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“You know, Rob – you really should learn to meditate.”
“What?”
Helen was surprised at herself. Had she really just said ‘meditate’? As in “meditate on it” instead of “sit on it”? Yes, she had, Poppy would be so proud. She pulled on her coat. “You heard me, meditate on it.”
“Medicate? What stoners have you been hanging out with now?”
“And that, my friend, is why I’m going my way and you are going yours – one letter in the difference but worlds apart.”
Chapter 70
One Year Later
Poppy turned the “Closed” sign and locked the door after the last customer left. Snow flakes drifted down from the night sky.
Could it be possible – a white Christmas?
She loved the stillness in the shop when everyone was gone – just her, with the massage oils, candles and lingerie. Who would have thought it possible?
There was a gentle tap on the door.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed!” she said, thinking it was probably some poor unfortunate who’d no idea how to shop for Christmas and needed a last-minute present – but she had to go home at some point.
“It’s me, you gobshite, open the door!” Helen stood outside, laden down with cardboard boxes.
Poppy opened up.
“Have you seen the snow, Poppy, isn’t it magical? Christmas Eve and it’s snowing!” She came in with a flurry of snow and excitement.
“What’s all that? Don’t tell me we’re left with a load of Christmas gift sets!” Their first year in business, they couldn’t afford to be left with unsold stock.
”Don’t be daft, woman, we’re all empty, I just didn’t want to leave them in the car in case some idiot thought Santa’d come early, and smashed my window.” She shook herself off.
“That’s it then. I sold the last set about ten minutes ago. If you’re saying there’s none in the warehouse either, that sounds like a success to me?” Poppy looked hopefully at Helen. In their partnership, she left as much of the accounting to Helen as she could.
“Ms Power, for you, Santa has come early.” Helen put the boxes out of the way and sat on one of the chaises longues that adorned the retail floor of their business.
“Okay, it’s just a rough estimate – I’m no accountant but I’ve had a quick look. If you take the sales from the website, the shop and the wellness centre, it would appear, Poppy, that you were absolutely right – lingerie and massage is a bloody profitable mix.”
Poppy took the computer print-out from Helen. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing – black figures. It might be Christmas but they were no longer in the red.
“It was you who put it all together, Helen.” Poppy picked up a small gift box from the display cabinet. It was their Samara signature collection, beautifully wrapped boxes with gift certificates, lingerie, essential oils, and candles.
“Let’s celebrate. Do you fancy sparkling apple juice or champagne?” Helen asked. They both drank a lot less these days – they called it balance.
There was another gentle tap, three taps to be exact, on the door.
“Are you expecting someone?”
Poppy gave her a look of horror. “I haven’t morphed into the Virgin Mary!” she said as she opened the door.
“Buon Natale!” Angelo held out a bottle of Prosecco and three glasses. “Ciao, bella!” He gave Helen his customary two kisses, from cheek to cheek.
But he kissed Poppy on the lips.
“I’ve cleaned everything, and locked up the café. Now it’s time to take off the plug and relax.” He pulled the elastic band from the nape of his neck and shook his hair out.
“That, Angelo is what I call perfect timing,” Helen said.
“We’ve just had a look at the sales figures, Angelo – Helen has pulled it off!”
“Stop. It’s the two of us together. I wouldn’t know where to start with the wellness centre. Holistic lingerie – ha, makes a change from the �
�hole-istic’ stuff I was used to.” She put her feet up and hugged a deep red velvet cushion to her body.
“It’s not holistic lingerie – it’s the icing on the cake. We nurture mind, soul and body. And thanks to you, it’s ethically sourced, so we’re even helping people on a different continent. How’s that for universal synchronicity!”
“I’m glad everything worked well between Eden and David Strong’s company. The PR Fred got was terrific. And we benefited from it too of course by David supplying us with our diffusion range.”
“Poppy has explain it to me, Helen,” said Angelo, “but I don’t really understand the whole manufacturing process.”
“Okay, the short version. Eden get their volume lines produced in David and Mai’s factory. But the smaller runs that we get from them wouldn’t work in a big production plant.” Helen’s face was radiant. “Our garments are produced by the seamstresses in their own homes. David sets them up with machines, then one of his team drops off the cut fabric and comes back to collect the finished goods. The women get to work from home so they can set their own hours and spend time with their families.”
“It’s truly amazing, isn’t it, Angelo?” Poppy ran her hand along a deep-purple negligée, which was part of their window display.
“Sí, but can everything really be done in their homes?”
“Not everything. The finishing is mostly done back in the factory where it’s prepared for shipment.”
“Helen’s designs made exclusively for us, Samara. We really are unique, aren’t we?” Poppy smiled as a child who’d just heard her favourite Christmas Eve story.
“Yep, that’s Devine Power Enterprises alright. Someone told me once that spirituality couldn’t be sexy.” Helen raised an eyebrow.
“Well, our bank balance proves him wrong,” Poppy said with pride. “He has been good though, Rob. Helping us with the company set-up and all that red tape.”
“And he’s a good dad too, no?” Angelo added.
“Yes, he is. He’s really bonded with Daniel.” Helen rubbed the nap of the velvet she still held. She looked content.
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