The Spring of Second Chances : An absolutely perfect and uplifting romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘Because I’m not capable of looking out for myself?’

  ‘You have to be careful. People’s motives aren’t always what they seem. And I don’t think you want to get tied down with a child at your age, especially one who isn’t yours.’

  ‘I’m twenty-seven, Mum! And I think I’m old enough to decide what I want.’

  Phoebe’s dad cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we should just butt out, Martha.’ He turned to Phoebe. ‘I think it’s great that you’re courting again.’

  ‘Thank you, Dad,’ Phoebe replied. She knew her mum meant well and in the end her only concern was for Phoebe’s happiness, but her comments rankled all the same. It was the deep-seated distrust of anyone who was not just like Martha Clements that bothered her no matter how much she tried not to let it.

  ‘He must be a decent fella if he’s raised a bairn like that,’ her dad continued. ‘Not many would.’

  ‘What does he do?’

  Always Martha’s second question about any new man in Phoebe’s life, roughly translated as how much does he earn?

  ‘He’s a web designer.’

  ‘One of those made-up jobs, then,’ Martha replied tartly.

  ‘It pays him a good salary and there’s a lot of demand for it these days.’

  ‘Are we going to meet him?’

  ‘Of course. We’ll just need to find the time. He’s very busy and with my new job I will be too. But I do want you to meet him; I honestly think you’ll like him.’

  ‘I’m sure we will,’ her dad said.

  ‘Hugh!’

  Phoebe looked round to see a bear of a man grinning down at her dad. As if the newcomer wasn’t tall enough, a lavish spray of feathers sprouting from a huge Cavalier hat added superhuman inches.

  ‘Geraint!’ Phoebe’s dad returned a warm greeting. ‘Cooled down a bit, lad?’

  Geraint smacked his lips as he held a half empty pint glass aloft. ‘I have now. Cracking fight today, eh?’

  ‘It was indeed.’

  Geraint turned to Phoebe and her mum. ‘Martha… Phoebe…’ He gave them both a courteous nod of recognition. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while, Phoebe. You’re looking well.’

  Phoebe returned the compliment with a polite but neutral smile and took a sip of her cider in order to avoid having to give any sort of response. She dearly hoped he wasn’t going to do anything daft today like ask her out. It would be mortifying to have to refuse him and he was such a nice man that she really couldn’t bear to do it. This wasn’t the first time it had been a possibility either. She suspected that his interest in her had more to do with her dad’s involvement in the Millrise Historical Battle Re-enactment Society than with actual physical attraction. A girlfriend that (sort of) understood the society would be a bonus to someone as obsessed with it as Geraint was. Not only that, but Phoebe also suspected that he didn’t often go to the sorts of places men usually went to in the hope of meeting prospective partners.

  Geraint simply smiled down at her in a rather vague way and tipped his hat. ‘Lovely to see you ladies again.’

  ‘And you,’ Phoebe replied. She felt desperately sorry for him. He was a sweet man. Even his odd little hat-flourish was rather sweet, if somewhat eccentric. But she could never fancy him in a million years. She watched as he shuffled off again, his great bulk cleaving a path through the crowded bar like a human snowplough. ‘You’ll have to say something, Dad, put the poor bloke out of his misery.’

  ‘I will, love. I didn’t know about this Jack bloke before, did I?’

  Phoebe frowned. ‘To be perfectly honest, Dad, it wouldn’t have made any difference if I hadn’t been seeing Jack. I was lonely, but I wasn’t desperate and Geraint just isn’t my type.’

  He gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I’ll have a word later, I promise.’

  ‘Thanks. You really don’t need to worry about me, you know.’

  ‘But we do,’ Martha cut in. ‘We’re parents and that’s our job.’

  ‘Never mind all that now,’ Hugh smiled. ‘Who’s up for a bowl of chips? I’m famished.’

  The early night was a big mistake. Phoebe had suspected it would be but had convinced herself that she needed the extra sleep to be at her absolute best and brightest for her first day as Hendry’s new promotions assistant. The reality was that she couldn’t get to sleep because she wasn’t really tired by nine o’clock. And the longer she lay awake the more agitated she became and the less able to relax and close her eyes. By the time she had finally dozed off the clock was showing four-thirty. Two hours later it buzzed her awake and she was so tired she could barely see straight.

  By the time she had walked into Hendry’s she was running on a potent mix of coffee and adrenaline and little else. Dixon had welcomed her, hastily cleared off a dust coated desk, and told her to start creating.

  Phoebe was still creating when morning break came at around ten. Creating in this case could be loosely translated as staring into space, chewing on the end of a pen and rearranging the small collection of office equipment on her desk while Dixon frantically made phone calls and frowned at his computer screen. She had cleaned her desk, customised her computer desktop with a large picture of Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and had sent a text to Jack to tell him everything was going really well. It wasn’t, of course. Everything was going really badly.

  As she found herself staring at the opposite wall again, Phoebe reassured herself that first days were always a little disjointed. Once she got into a routine and made the job her own she’d be fine. Although, that was one of the problems. There hadn’t been a job to make her own. No handover from a previous employee, no existing duties to continue, no routine in place, no shoes to fill – she had been given a blank sheet to bring the job into existence and was starting from scratch. Where did she even begin?

  Every so often Dixon lifted his head from whatever he was doing and smiled at her. ‘Everything okay? Anything you’re not sure about or want to run past me?’

  Phoebe rather thought that she would like to run past him… down the stairs and back to her old job. At least she knew what she was doing on the shop floor. She didn’t want to run actual thoughts past him for fear of looking stupid. Not that she’d had any of consequence anyway. There were vague, half-formed ideas floating around her head but nothing that would blow anyone’s socks off.

  So when break came Phoebe was only too happy to clatter downstairs and search for Midnight. Their breaks no longer coincided and Phoebe found her trying to squeeze her mass of hair beneath a Captain America helmet and facemask in the stockroom.

  ‘Hey, look at you in your suit. Sexy!’ she called as she spotted Phoebe, who dearly wished she could return the compliment. But as she had never seen anything quite as odd as a fully-grown, purple-haired (not forgetting rather buxom; as if anyone could forget) woman in a Captain America balaclava/helmet combo, it would clearly be a lie that even Midnight would see through.

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied instead.

  ‘How’s the first day?’

  ‘Okay,’ Phoebe said carefully. ‘Actually, pretty shit.’

  ‘That sucks. Anything that won’t get better once the first day nerves wear off?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  Old Hendry been in to bother you yet?’

  ‘Mr Hendry?’ Phoebe frowned. ‘I haven’t seen him today.’

  ‘He’s stalking the corridors, surveying his empire somewhere with Hendry junior, or so I’ve heard. I thought they might be coming to see what you’re up to.’

  ‘I hardly think I’m that important. It’s my first day too so I wouldn’t have anything to show him really.’

  ‘You never know with old Hendry. He’s a bit weird if you ask me.’

  Phoebe tried not to laugh. Midnight still hadn’t removed her headgear and seemed to have no concept of the irony of her comment in light of this fact. But then, the thought that Mr Hendry might turn up unannounced in her office at some point and demand to see what he was paying her for pus
hed all other thoughts from her head and ramped up her already hyper anxiety levels. She tried not to dwell on it. ‘I didn’t know there was a Hendry junior.’

  ‘He’s next in line to take over the family business when Hendry senior retires. He’s pretty hot too.’

  ‘Really?’ Phoebe recalled the cold, expressionless features of Hendry senior and couldn’t imagine him spawning the sort of son Midnight might find attractive.

  ‘Everyone fancies him,’ Midnight said, as if she somehow needed to clarify the matter further.

  ‘Everyone?’

  Midnight nodded. ‘Even the straight blokes have man crushes on him.’

  ‘I don’t care how good looking he is, I don’t want him in our office today.’

  Midnight pushed herself up to take a seat on a shelving unit and swung her legs in a roguish manner. ‘Is it really that bad?’

  ‘It’s just…’ Phoebe let out a sigh. ‘I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know what Dixon is expecting from me… not really. He’s given me these vague and cryptic instructions that I have to get Hendry’s modern and popular again but I don’t really know what that means.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘I don’t think he knows what it means either.’

  ‘Tricky…’ Midnight agreed.

  Phoebe opened her mouth to speak again but then her forehead creased as she tried to hold off her frown. ‘Can you just take that mask off? I’m struggling to concentrate on anything today as it is and I feel like I’m hallucinating at the moment talking to you like this.’

  Midnight patted her head. ‘No way. Cap stays.’

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be on the shop floor anyway?’ Phoebe asked in an increasingly exasperated tone.

  ‘I’m thinking about it, yeah. The Cap still stays though.’

  ‘I suppose the kids would find it funny…’ Phoebe said, finally admitting defeat. But then her frown turned into a smile as enlightenment lit her features. ‘The kids would find it brilliant…’

  ‘Show me the kid that wouldn’t.’

  ‘Have you got the rest of that costume?’

  Midnight pointed to a box on the floor. ‘In there somewhere. You fancy joining in?’

  ‘What do you think about a superhero day? All the staff on the shop floor could dress up.’

  ‘Cosplay?’ Midnight high-fived Phoebe. ‘Now you’re talking my language. Our costumes won’t fit most of the fat bastards up there, though; we only have kids’ sizes.’

  Phoebe was silent for a moment as she mulled it over. ‘We could order adult sizes in.’

  ‘You think they’d give you a budget for that?’

  ‘Maybe not… I don’t suppose you have your own at home?’

  Midnight flashed her a saucy grin. ‘Yeah, I’ve got loads. They might be a bit on the kinky side for here, though.’

  ‘I don’t suppose everyone will have stuff like that at home. I bet we’ll have to order some in. I’ll ask Dixon what he thinks about a budget for something like that. We can reuse them too, make it a regular thing.’

  ‘Better still, you could even sell them in adult sizes in the store. Comic cons are big business and Hendry’s are missing out on it.’

  ‘Comic cons?’

  ‘Conventions… For sci-fi and fantasy nuts. They love dressing up and they spend loads on their outfits. You could advertise on comic con websites that we sell the cosplay stuff here.’

  Phoebe gazed at Midnight thoughtfully. ‘I suppose we could do a small trial run first to see what sort of reaction we get. What costumes have you got at home?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask! Want me to bring some in? Or you could come over and I’ll talk you through them.’

  ‘And we’re going to need help with the website, and leaflets designing… I think I know just the man for that. How do you feel about doing a bit of cosplay around town? I mean, you can say no if you don’t want to.’

  ‘Are you kidding? Get paid to walk around town dressed as Black Widow? I’m so there I was there last week!’

  Phoebe giggled. ‘You are amazing. I wish I had half your confidence.’

  ‘My friend, you are mistaking confidence for giving a shit, which I don’t. I can’t wait to see Steve’s face when you tell him you have to borrow me. Even better when you hand him a Spiderman costume and tell him he’s got to wear it.’

  ‘Spiderman? That’s far too cool for Steve. Aren’t there any really naff superheroes that nobody likes I can save for him.’

  ‘I can take care of that – leave it to me.’

  ‘I suppose I’d better run it all past Dixon before we get too carried away. I’ll let you know what he says.’

  ‘You know what else I’ve just thought of for even more days under Steve’s radar?’

  Phoebe raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

  ‘A little bit of industrial espionage…’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘We could go out mystery shopping to the other toy stores – see what they’re doing.’

  ‘I think Dixon already does that,’ Phoebe returned doubtfully.

  ‘But I bet he doesn’t see it like we would… comprendez?’

  ‘Sort of. I suppose I can ask. I think that might be pushing Steve just a little too far though.’

  ‘I’m sure a woman of your persuasive talents can talk him round.’

  ‘This is Steve we’re talking about?’ Phoebe checked her watch. ‘I’d better get back to my desk.’ She threw her arms around Midnight. ‘Thanks for being amazing.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything yet,’ Midnight called back as Phoebe hurried away. ‘But I bloody well will be when I do!’

  Phoebe hurried up to the attic office. At last she had something, the germ of an idea to give to Dixon. It only took a spark like this to set her creativity on fire; one little spark would be the catalyst for many more.

  But when she burst into the office, Dixon wasn’t alone. She froze as Mr Hendry and a man she’d never seen before turned at her entrance.

  ‘Here she is,’ Dixon said with an amiable smile, ‘my new assistant.’

  ‘I just… I was just on a break,’ Phoebe stuttered.

  ‘Of course… you are allowed to have breaks, even in the cutthroat world of PR,’ Dixon laughed. ‘We don’t want to work you into an early grave.’

  ‘Settling in?’ Mr Hendry asked. Despite the solicitous nature of his words he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t seem to care less whether Phoebe was settling in or not. However, it was the warmest he’d been to Phoebe since she’d met him. That had to be progress, didn’t it? ‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied. Her gaze travelled to the man she assumed was his son.

  He was tall, imposing, something regal about the way he held himself. She guessed he was in his mid-twenties and he was undoubtedly handsome, but not in a way that would make a woman feel safe and loved. He silently appraised her with steel grey eyes in a way that felt dangerous, formidable. Phoebe had hoped not to run into him on her first day but, as always, that stubborn, irritating bitch fate had other ideas.

  Dixon turned to Mr Hendry’s son. ‘Have you had the opportunity to go down onto the shop floor yet, Adam?’

  Adam Hendry nodded. ‘First thing. It was only a brief visit and there wasn’t much going on that early.’

  ‘It certainly livens up later in the day,’ Dixon agreed. ‘Would you like me to talk you through what we do here in the meantime?’

  Adam glanced at Phoebe who was just about managing to hold in a groan of distress. She silently prayed that he wouldn’t be keen to discover more about the world of promotions. The two men’s presence was making her decidedly on edge and she wanted them to leave. Her first day was stressful enough without this.

  But, of course, Adam gave Dixon a curt nod. ‘That would be very helpful.’

  Dixon pulled up a spare chair and positioned it at his desk alongside his own. His gaze flicked up at Phoebe. ‘May we borrow your chair?’

  ‘Be my guest.’ Ph
oebe wheeled it across as he unlocked his computer and the three men sat down. She hovered uncertainly behind them. She couldn’t slink back to her own desk and pretend to work now that she didn’t have a seat and she wasn’t sure if she was expected to contribute to Dixon’s impromptu presentation. ‘Um…’ she flailed around for ideas to remove herself. ‘How about I make coffee?’ she asked brightly. ‘Or tea? Mr Hendry… I mean, both of you…’ she felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she blushed.

  Old Mr Hendry looked up from the screen. ‘We’ve already had one this morning.’

  ‘I’ll have one,’ Adam said with a look that Phoebe found hard to interpret. Was that mocking humour in his expression? Or was he just mocking her?

  ‘Dixon?’ Phoebe asked.

  Dixon looked up from his keyboard with a slight look of surprise, as if he had forgotten she was there.

  ‘Oh, yes… coffee… lovely. If it’s no bother.’

  ‘None at all,’ Phoebe replied, thankful to be out of the frame for ten minutes. Once Dixon had got his talk underway without her perhaps he wouldn’t need her to chip in at all. Even better, if she could slope in at that point and watch, she might actually learn something about what Dixon did for Hendry’s. ‘Sugar?’ she asked.

  ‘None for me,’ Adam said.

  ‘Two,’ Dixon called after her, already out of the door.

  She rushed out onto the landing. There was a jar of coffee in the staffroom, a floor below, that she shared with Midnight. She often found their coffee jars depleted as people snuck in and raided them, regardless of the fact they were labelled clearly with her name. She hoped this time there would be enough left to make two drinks, otherwise she’d have to do some thieving of her own. Hers was a cheap make too, only marginally better than the disgusting coffee from the vending machine – did Hendry Junior drink only the best? She couldn’t help a half smile – it would be an introduction to the world of the working class for him. Perhaps he’d be so appalled by the quality of the coffee they were forced to suffer that he’d insist on giving out hefty pay rises for all his staff. Or at the very least Starbucks allowances.

  Finding there was still plenty left in the cupboard, she set about washing two very old and chipped mugs and hastily prepared the drinks.