The Little Unicorn Gift Shop

by Kellie Hailes

  ‘A gourmet tea shop.’ Ben expertly parallel parked outside a row of houses around the corner from the shops. ‘High-end teas sourced from around the globe. Delicious cakes. Slices. Biscuits.’

  ‘And who’ll be making these cakes and slices? You?’ Poppy released her seatbelt and got out of the car. She lifted her arms in a long stretch, breathed in the sun-warmed air, and allowed herself a small smile as she took in the terraced homes, many fronted by perfectly clipped hedges perched atop matching brick fences. So different to the wooden one-storeyed Sixties-style bungalows and Eighties-built style-free square boxes that had lined the street she’d flatted in last.

  The slam of the car door brought her attention back to Ben, who was expertly knotting his tie.

  ‘Yes, me.’ He scooped up a suit jacket and shrugged it on, then buttoned it up. ‘I’ll be doing the baking.’

  ‘Really?’ Poppy released the stretch, then leaned against the car. ‘I know you were the king of Home Economics at school but baking at school is one thing – baking for business is another.’

  ‘And you’d know this how?’ Ben locked his car and started up the street.

  ‘Am I coming with you?’ Poppy trailed after him. ‘I thought I was to stay with the car.’

  ‘You can come for the walk if you want. I’d have thought you’d be tired of being stuck inside. Or you can stay here. Do what you want. I don’t care.’

  He could say he didn’t care, but the squaring of his shoulders and the frostiness in his voice told her otherwise. Stupid, Poppy. She’d just pooh-poohed his business idea. Pooh-poohed him. It was one thing to listen to her horrid inner critic that always tried to make her second-guess her abilities, her worth, but she had no right to project that inner critic onto Ben. Not when she knew how determined and disciplined Ben could be. He could have taken night classes. Watched online tutorials. Done any number of things to learn how to bake for the masses, and she wouldn’t know. Their steady stream of communication when she’d first left had turned into a trickle over the years as Ben had become busier. His emails shorter. To the point. And, eventually, she’d got the point, Ben didn’t have time for her. Yet she’d still emailed on occasion, whenever she moved, just so someone at home knew where she was in case anything went wrong.

  Poppy jogged a few steps to catch up with Ben. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m an idiot. I should know better. Whenever you put your mind to something you make it work. More than that, you succeed. You always have. I bet you could enter a baking competition on the telly and win. Easily.’

  ‘I bet I could too. And it’s not like I stopped baking once I left school. It’s been my stress relief for as long as I can remember. It also made me very popular at work when I brought in the previous night’s goods.’ Ben turned onto a bustling side street, dotted with shops that hadn’t been there when she left. A generic chain-store coffee shop, a designer clothing store, a store selling cutesy baby gear. She spotted the charity store where she’d got most of her wardrobe from as a youngster. Got? More like stolen. Hunching in the doorway in the middle of the night, rifling through bags left at the door, praying she wouldn’t be caught, not wanting to admit to anyone that her mother was too busy with her art and friends and gregarious lifestyle to be bothered to think her daughter might need clothes. To be bothered to think, or care, about her daughter at all.

  Give big anonymous donation to store. Poppy added the thought to the top of her mental ‘to-do’ list.

  Next to the charity store stood an empty shop, a ‘for lease’ sign hanging in its window. Was the sign a sign? Was that the shop she could set up her business in? Lightness infused her heart, dispersing the dread she hadn’t realised had been sitting dark and heavy. She’d take note of the number and call the shop’s owner once she was settled in her new place.

  Ben crossed the street then stopped in front of the shop. Her shop. No, surely not. He wasn’t stealing her shop from underneath her, was he? Not that he knew it was her shop, but it had to be. She felt it deep down. The same way she’d known deep down that it was time to come home.

  ‘How do I look?’ He straightened his shoulders, ran his hand over his perfect-as-always hair and flashed her a winning smile.

  ‘Perfect. Is the shop around the corner? On the main road?’

  ‘No. It’s this one, right here.’ He angled his head towards the space. ‘It suits my budget, and the street’s busy, and close enough to the main street that people won’t be put off making a small detour to visit.’

  ‘You’ve thought it all out.’ Of course he had. That’s what Ben did. His life had been mapped out since he was young. He didn’t do anything without careful thought. The opposite of herself. She’d figured she’d come home, find a flat, nab herself a space, place an order for a bunch of cute unicorn product and watch the customers and money roll in. She’d not even thought about budgets, other than to have enough money in the bank to start the business.

  The squeak of the front door snapped her out of her darkening mood. ‘Mr Evans? You’re on time. Excellent. I like that. You didn’t mention anything about bringing someone? No matter though. There’s not much to see, just the main space, the kitchen behind, and there’s a small office. But it’s always good to have a second opinion. Come in. Come in. Lovely to meet you, dear, I’m Monty Gilbert. Call me Monty.’

  ‘Actually, she was going to stay out—’ Ben went to correct the bespectacled gentleman who’d greeted him, but stopped as he was hustled inside.

  Poppy gave him a ‘what can you do’ shrug, trailed inside and then stepped to the right, giving Ben some space to chat to the landlord and giving herself a moment to view the shop that would have been hers if Ben hadn’t seen it first.

  It was beautiful. Perfect. Polished wooden floors gleamed under subtle downlights. One end of the shop was lined in redbrick, the other plastered and painted a barely-there cream. She could imagine white-painted shelves pushed up against it, filled with unicorn stationery – holographic pens, unicorn stickers, writing sets. Mugs from bombastic and brilliant to sweet and subtle. Stuffed unicorn toys could take pride of place in the corner, and a range of unicorn-printed clothing could hang from a rack by the far wall.

  She glanced over at Ben and saw his eyes brighten as he took in the brick wall. She knew what he was seeing. She could see it too. Wooden shelving stained the colour of long-steeped black tea would be perfect against that red and would look marvellous holding tea-sets and tins of tea. And the ornate timber counter could easily be stained the same colour and would provide a striking centrepiece for the shop. It was the perfect space for his venture.

  ‘I must apologise, I was a little misleading in my advertisement.’ Monty shoved his hands in his brown corduroy pant pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. ‘You see my son told me I was asking too little rent for this space. I haven’t had to rent it out in years, you see. The only reason I’m renting it now is because the previous tenant passed, may she rest in peace, and I thought a little hike in the lease was fine. Turns out I was going to be doing myself no favours…’

  ‘Oh.’ Ben’s face stilled. His eyes narrowed. Was that panic flashing through them? Or had Poppy imagined it? ‘What kind of rent are you looking for?’

  Monty paused, then uttered a number.

  The colour drained from Ben’s face. ‘That’s twice what you were asking in the advertisement.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.’ Monty looked up as the door opened and two gangly teens walked in. A boy and a girl, both the same height, with hair the identical shade of auburn.

  Fraternal twins, Poppy guessed.

  ‘Sophie, Joseph. Didn’t I tell you to wait outside if you saw I was with people?’ Monty folded his arms and fixed the twins with an irritated stare.

  ‘Sorry, Grandad. Forgot.’ The girl, Sophie, shrugged, then held up her hand and began inspecting her nails.

  Monty’s chest rose and fell as a huff of irritation filled the ro
om. ‘I’m so sorry for the intrusion, Mr Evans. Would you mind giving me a minute while I sort these two out, then send them on their way?’ His palms flipped up in a silent apology, before turning his attention to the twins. ‘So, how did the job search go?’ Monty’s pitch heightened with hope.

  ‘Nowhere.’ Sophie leaned against the counter, her petite nose wrinkling. ‘The job search went nowhere, right, Joe?’

  Her brother nodded, his eyes fixed on the floorboards. ‘Nobody wants us.’

  ‘And we tried, Grandad, we really did.’ Sophie pulled out her phone and buried her nose in it.

  Poppy grinned. Sure they’d tried. That explained the splodge of what looked like chocolate ice cream on Joseph’s shirt. And the leaf attached to the bottom of Sophie’s shoe. Grabbing ice cream and going for a walk through Queen’s Wood was hardly what she’d call a job search.

  ‘Well, you’ll have to try again tomorrow.’ Monty shook his head. ‘I can’t have you two underfoot all holidays. And I promised your parents we’d keep you busy, keep you out of mischief, until you decided what you wanted to do with your lives.’

  An idea swirled in the back of Poppy’s mind. She may have found a way to launch both businesses, while getting onside of the landlord, who – if the look of despair on his face was anything to go by – had two charges on his hands that were going to drive him crazy if they weren’t kept busy.

  ‘How much did you say the rent was again?’ She made her way to stand beside Ben, hoping he’d go along with her idea. Provide a united front.

  Monty repeated the price.

  ‘Would you consider shaving ten per cent off that, in exchange for hiring these two?’ She nodded at Sophie and Joe, whose mouths formed identical o’s, their aquamarine eyes widening in horror. Poppy suppressed a smile. ‘Because we’re going to need some help, Ben and I, if we’re going to open our shops in this space in couple of weeks’ time.’

  ‘Our shops?’ Ben shot Poppy a quizzical look.

  ‘Sparkle & Steep. That’s the name we agreed on, right?’ She raised her eyebrows, praying that Ben wouldn’t work against her.

  ‘Sparkle & Steep. Yes, that’s right.’ Ben nodded, his face free from emotion.

  A bit shell-shocked, Poppy guessed. ‘You see, Monty, we are going to open a gourmet tea shop, and London’s most fabulous unicorn gift shop.’ She turned to her new employees. ‘Now, Sophie, Joe, I may as well be upfront about this. We can’t afford to pay much, I’m sorry, but being new and all there’s just not the money there for more than the living wage.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Monty interrupted. ‘These two need work, and you’re offering it. It’ll keep them out of my hair, and keep them out of trouble. I’ve got the papers all drawn up out back. Take a look at them, and if all is in order, the shop’s yours. But the sooner you decide the better, I’ve another interested party keen to take a look. They should be here any minute, actually.’ Not waiting for an answer Monty turned and made his way through the door to the back room, leaving the two teens to huddle up in a murmur of mutters.

  Ben pulled Poppy to the furthest corner. ‘What are you doing?’ he hissed. ‘Opening a store with me? That wasn’t the plan. And why’d you go and throw the twins into the deal? They clearly don’t want to work.’

  ‘First of all, you had your budget and this was out of it. I, too, have a budget.’ Poppy crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘And our budgets combined will make this work. Also, you’ll need help. And I’ll need help. And it’s clear to me that Monty is being driven round the bend by those two being under his feet. It all makes sense. I’d go so far as to say it’s meant to be.’ Poppy flashed Ben a thumbs up, along with an encouraging nod.

  Monty returned in a rustle of paper and a hustle of feet. ‘Here you go. Here are the papers. Look over them. It’s all above board, but I want you to be happy.’

  Poppy thrust her hand in Monty’s direction, and ignored Ben’s choke-cough. ‘No need for that. I trust you. We trust you. Consider us your new tenants.’

  Chapter 3

  Ben ran his eyes over the documents before him. Poppy may have been willing to sign away her life without checking things out first, but there was no way he was about to. Still, they looked fine to his professional eye. Everything was in order as Monty had said. But what was not in order, in fact what was highly out of order, was Poppy springing this on him without even considering his thoughts, his feelings.

  Sharing a space with her? Not just a space, but a business space? This wasn’t like sharing a fake rock-pet as they had when they were young and neither set of parents had allowed them to own a puppy or kitten. This was their lives. Their livelihoods. And if the fate of the rock-pet was anything to go by, going into business with Poppy was not a good idea. She’d lost the darn thing between school and home three days into their deal to share it.

  ‘Didn’t see that coming, did ya?’ The girl – Sophie – nudged him with her elbow. ‘I’ve never seen someone look so green in my life. Do you need a bucket?’

  ‘Sophie, don’t be rude. That’s our boss you’re talking to.’ Her brother pulled Sophie away and gave Ben some breathing space.

  Breathing space? He’d need more than the air in the shop to breathe after everything Poppy had just flung at him. He’d need a small country’s worth of air. Speaking of Poppy, where had she gone? ‘Poppy?’

  ‘I’m out the back. With you in a sec.’

  The light tip-tap of excitable feet greeted him, followed by Poppy, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.

  ‘This place is perfect. The kitchen’s great. You’ll love it. The office is a little small, but I’m sure we can take turns in there to have our cups of tea when we’re on break, or eat our lunch, or whatever. Or we could squeeze in together if you don’t mind getting cuddly with me. The toilet could do with a scrub, but I think we can get Joe or Sophie to do that. Whoever’s annoying us most at any given time.’

  ‘We heard that,’ Sophie sniped over her shoulder, before turning back to her brother, who had his eyes glued on his phone, his fingers tapping away furiously.

  ‘You were meant to.’ Poppy’s smile didn’t falter. ‘It’s my not-so-subtle way of telling you not to annoy us. And to do that you need to do as you’re told, when you’re told, and to not walk around with that grimace on your face. You’ll scare off the customers.’ Ignoring the grunt from Sophie’s direction, Poppy focused on Ben. ‘So, Ben, have you signed the papers? Does it look good? Are you happy with everything? Do you think we could have this place up and running in a week or two?’

  Ben set the papers down, closed his eyes and took a breath. This was too much, too fast. This was pure Poppy. All go, no slow. ‘Poppy.’ He opened his eyes and took her by the shoulders. ‘I’m not sure about this. You and me, running a business in the same room? It’s a recipe for disaster.’

  ‘Piffle.’ Poppy shook her head, sending her signature black braid swinging. ‘We used to make a great team. Aced all the school projects we did together. And sure, we got into a little trouble here and there…’

  ‘Because of you,’ Ben asserted, hoping to remind her that her past follies hadn’t been forgotten. Even if they had quickly been forgiven.

  ‘Yes, well, I was younger. Now I’m not. Look, I’ve got the money.’ She pulled out her phone and began swiping furiously. ‘I have an app that I can show you. I’ve been saving every penny I can for a couple of years now.’ She went to lift her phone, but Ben held up his hand, stopping her.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t think you have the money. You could get the money in a second, even if you didn’t. Your mother, your family, isn’t exactly poor…’

  Poppy’s smile disappeared, the line of her jaw sharpened. Ben inwardly cursed himself. Poppy’s mother may have been a successful artist, and the family she came from may have been well off, but that didn’t mean Poppy was a pampered princess who was given everything her heart desired. His home had shared a wall with Poppy’s, and he’d heard the raised voices w
hen she and her mother had argued, followed by the door slamming.

  What had gone on at the Taylor household to cause so much friction, he had no idea; Poppy and her often red-rimmed eyes had refused to speak of it, but he knew enough to know that the relationship she had with her mother wasn’t the kind where you asked for money. Or, come to think of it, where you’d turn up on the doorstep after twelve years away expecting your old room back.

  And maybe that meant he needed to put his misgivings on pause, to trust Poppy. For all her youthful transgressions she’d come home with a plan, with money to execute that plan, and she’d been the one to find a way to reduce the rent on the space, while hiring two helping hands who she had managed to wrangle into submission with just a few words and the lightest of warnings.

  ‘The thing is, Poppy, what do you know about running a business? It’s a big ask to expect me to just leap into this with you. There’s a lot of risk involved…’

  ‘And I know how much you hate taking risks, which is why I’m not making you take any. Like I said, I have the money. And while I’ve never owned a business I’ve worked in plenty. I’ve even been put in charge of a couple. Look, Ben. I’m offering a solution. The rent’s lower. We’ve got two people over there who, despite their surly and disinterested demeanours, I think could actually be quite helpful. More importantly, we’ve got each other. We can make anything work.’ Poppy took his hands in hers and gave them a shake. ‘Come on. Trust me. But trust me quick. Look outside.’

  Ben twisted round to see a couple hanging around the shop’s front window, their noses all but pressed to the window.