‘I know you wanted that legacy continued through law, and who knows, maybe Mum’s imaginary grandkids might take a shine to it, but I’m done with that part of my life, and you don’t have to like it, but I need you to accept it.’ From the corner of his eye Ben saw Poppy settle back into her chair. Her gaze zeroed in on his father, her eyebrow was raised, and her hand gripped the stem of her wine glass. Her expression was all but screaming ‘If you don’t apologise to your son I will drench you with this wine, then tip the bottle over your head.’
Poppy’s fierce demeanour settled the pounding crash of his heart against his chest. He wasn’t in this alone. No matter what happened next, as long as he had Poppy by his side he’d be fine.
Robert’s shoulders slumped, and resignation deepened the lines on his face. ‘It would appear that I owe you an apology, son. And you too, Poppy.’
Ben kept his face impassive, not wanting to show the shock that had his breath caught in his throat.
‘Don’t look so shocked. I’m a big enough person to be able to say when I’m in the wrong.’
So much for not showing his feelings.
Robert looked up at Pam, who’d come to stand behind him, her hand on his shoulder. ‘The thing is, when you left the practice I was angry and confused. I couldn’t understand why you’d throw away everything you’d built. I couldn’t understand why you’d throw away what I’d believed was your dream.’ Robert paused. His broad chest lifted and fell, as if he were trying to keep his composure. ‘I was also concerned what those in the law community would say. It’s not every day someone leaves a successful practice to set up a combined tea shop and mad unicorn gift shop business…’
‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the “mad” part.’ Poppy rolled her eyes and topped up her glass. ‘Unicorns might not float your boat, but they’re rocking a lot of people’s worlds right now, and they’re making me a pretty penny.’
‘Apologies again, Poppy. I guess you’re right, they don’t, er… float my boat. It seems I’m immune to their attraction.’
‘Don’t say that to her, Dad. She’ll shower you in them, whether you like it or not. Poppy doesn’t know the meaning of “no, thank you”.’ Ben laughed as Poppy blew a raspberry in his direction. ‘Poppy’s right though, Dad. The business is working. Both sides.’ Ben nudged Poppy with his knee. ‘For some reason Poppy’s mad unicorn merchandise, with all its fluff and sparkle, complements my serious and grown-up gourmet tea shop. Although she has managed to get some glitter going on – you should see my Jammy Dodgers.’
A secretive grin crossed Poppy’s face, stirring suspicion in Ben’s stomach. Why did he have a feeling his shop may be more infused with Poppy’s unicorns than he realised?
‘I’m glad, Ben. Surprised, if I’m honest, but glad.’ Robert’s eyes misted up. ‘And may I just say, I know I haven’t shown it, but despite my bad behaviour I am proud of you. You followed your dreams. You embraced your passion. You didn’t hold yourself back. You didn’t let what I wanted for you get in the way of doing something that would bring you satisfaction. Ultimately that’s what any parent wants for their child.’
Ben and his father had never been the hugging types, but then again, Robert had never been the type to say he was wrong, or to get wet in the eyes. Perhaps it was time to change that. Ben stood and moved round the table. His father stood to meet him.
‘Thanks, Dad. Making you and Mum proud has been what’s driven me my entire life, and I plan to keep on doing that. Mum, put the tongs down for a sec and come over here, please.’ Ben held his arms wide and the three embraced.
Ben glanced over at Poppy. Her eyes were averted, her hands twisting round each other, and if he wasn’t mistaken there was a single tear glistening on her cheek.
***
Poppy helped herself to a steak, then a big spoonful of potato salad.
‘Garden salad, dear?’ Pam passed the bowl Poppy’s way and she accepted it with a small smile. One she hoped hit her eyes. One that hid the ache that had pulsed in her chest the moment Ben’s family hugged.
This was the kind of family she’d yearned to be part of. This family stuck together and had a solid foundation that could weather the ups and down, that wouldn’t let disagreements get in the way. Not for long anyway.
This family loved each other. Their in-jokes flew across the table, their smiles were wide and bright. Their laughter was as warm as the summer air. Once she’d thought their family was ruled by regulations and expectations, but now she knew it was ruled by love.
Knots intertwined in Poppy’s gut, growing larger, tighter, and more twisted with every passing moment. She picked up her fork and pushed the potato salad around her plate, trying to ignore the little voice that came not from her head, but from her gut. The harsh whisper that would wake her at night, reminding her she wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t worth loving. That if her mother couldn’t love her, then no one could. That anyone who thought they might would eventually change their mind.
‘Poppy? Are you sure you’re okay, dear? You’ve barely touched your food.’ Pam reached out and placed the back of her hand on Poppy’s forehead. ‘You’re not warm, but you’re looking a touch peaky.’
Sadness weaved its way through the knots. Poppy sucked in air, sure she was about to throw up. ‘I just… may I please use your—?’ Poppy clutched her stomach, pushed the chair back – she didn’t wait for an answer, figuring they’d know where she was going – and raced into the house, through the kitchen, to the second door on the left.
Slamming it shut, she crumpled to the floor, pushed her back against the wall, brought her knees to her chest and tipped her head up to the plain white ceiling. So different to the ceiling next door which her mother had painted a mural of a sky on, the walls a jungle of tropical flowers.
Just breathe, Poppy. Breathe.
She inhaled, counted to ten. Exhaled. Counted to ten. Over and over, until her heart’s furious beat retreated to a steady thump, and the knots in her stomach loosened.
To think her biggest fear about coming to dinner was that her mother would see her, would know she was home… and would what? Try and make contact with her? Would see her and ignore her? Things she should never have feared because deep down she knew her mother didn’t care enough to make meaningful contact. And if she’d seen and ignored her then it wouldn’t have been any different from when she was younger.
Instead she’d been forced to face the one thing she’d run from for all these years.
A family that loved each other. A family that had their differences but didn’t let them get in the way of how they felt. They were a team. They had each other’s backs. They were the living embodiment of the thing she refused to believe in. Love.
Seeing them together earlier, toe-to-toe, arm-round-arm, their adoration for each other obvious, the strength they gave each other, had brought a tear to her eye.
And a surge of realisation.
Ben had the love he deserved because he didn’t run from it. Because he opened himself to it and wasn’t afraid to ask to be loved.
Whereas she had no kind of love at all. No chance of it, because she kept people at arm’s length, too afraid to let anyone in, in case they got too close – in case they took a chisel and hammer to the crack in her heart.
A soft knock on the door jerked Poppy out of her head.
‘Poppy? It’s Ben. Just checking you’re okay? Is there anything I can do? I’ve brought your bag in case there’s something in there you need.’
Poppy pushed herself up off the ground and opened the door. ‘Thanks, Ben, and sorry.’ She took her bag out of his hands. ‘I must’ve eaten something earlier that didn’t agree with me. My stomach’s been set to a spin cycle, so I think I might have to head home. Could you thank your parents for me? And tell them I’m so sorry.’
Ben’s eyes, dark with concern, searched her face. ‘Sure thing, Poppy. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t want me to walk you home?’ His brow furrowed in wo
rry.
How she wanted to smooth those wrinkles away. To soften their grooves. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She’d led Ben on with that kiss last night; she’d led herself on, given herself an inch of hope, of which she would not take a mile. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them.
‘I’m fine, Ben. I’m sure an early night and a good sleep will sort out whatever this is…’ She prodded her stomach and lifted her lips in what she hoped was a convincing smile.
‘I’ll walk you out then.’
Poppy trailed behind Ben, keeping her eyes on the ground, afraid if he turned around he’d see the relief in her eyes and know that there was more to her leaving than a dodgy tummy – then question it.
Ben opened the door and held it for her. ‘You sure you’ll be okay?’
Poppy nodded. ‘Of course. I always am. Now get back in there and enjoy your family dinner. And enjoy your day off tomorrow, okay? The shop’s closed and we’ve both earned some rest.’
Ben paused, his lips pursed, his eyes narrowing. Disbelief radiated off him, but Poppy wasn’t backing down.
‘Okay, well, you know my number if you need me.’ Ben cast one more assessing look, then shut the door.
Poppy glanced up at the place she’d once called home. A lone figure stood in the window. Did it see her? Did it recognise her? She wasn’t about to stick around to find out.
Poppy bustled down the steps and strode up the road, not once looking back. There was no point. There was nothing there for her.
Not then. Not now. Not ever.
Chapter 13
Bing bong. Bing Bong. Bing Bong.
Poppy pulled the pillow over her bare ear and squeezed her eyes shut even tighter than they already were. It was her day off. Her one day off a week. Who in their right mind would wake her up so damn early? Who would be brave enough to disturb her peace?
Bing bong. Bing Bong. Bing Bong.
The only person who knew where she lived, aside from her landlady, that’s who.
‘Beeeeeeen.’ She peeled open one eye, scrabbled for her mobile and checked the time.
10.30.
A respectable time to come calling. Especially on a Monday morning when most people already had a couple hours’ work tucked under their belts, or had been up since the crack with little ones. But this was her day off, and after last night she didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to leave the cosy haven of her bed. Not for love or money.
Another echoing rap at the door met her ears.
How the hell did he get up here? Bloody neighbours. Must’ve decided he looked like a trustworthy type and let him in.
‘Poppy. You in? The lady who lives on the ground floor said she hadn’t seen you leave.’
Poppy stifled a groan. Of course it was Mrs Biddle. She kept an eagle eye on the comings and goings of the people of the house. She would have seen Ben come up with Poppy the day she moved in, then noted that he left at an appropriate time with his clothing unwrinkled and his hair unruffled, and deemed him an acceptable visitor.
‘Poppy. Let me in. I’m carrying coffee and pastries and they’re getting heavy and I’m in danger of dropping them. Think of the pastries, Poppy, think of the hours that went into making the pastries. Don’t break the heart of some poor pâtissier by allowing their creations to be destroyed.’
Poppy tossed aside her sheet with a sigh, the mock-desperation pulling her out of her morning funk.
‘Fine, I’m coming.’ She shrugged on her robe, padded to the door, unlocked it and swung it open with a dramatic sigh. ‘What are you doing here at this hour of the morning? And why are you here on our day off? Surely you’d be sick of the sight of me by now?’
Ben breezed past her, not even remotely concerned by the derision in her tone.
‘Sick of you? Never. Besides, I wanted to check on you, make sure you were all right. You looked a right sight last night. I was worried.’ Ben set the coffees on the kitchen bench and passed one to Poppy. ‘Flat white, no sugar.’
Poppy accepted the cup and took a sip. ‘Perfect. And needed.’ She rubbed her eyes, still bleary from her sleep-in. ‘Thank you.’
Ben shrugged. ‘Least I can do. Hungry?’ He opened the box of pastries and pulled out petit pains au chocolat, mille-feuille, and friands. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I got a few things.’
‘They all look good. Really good.’ Poppy picked up a pain au chocolat and bit into the buttery, sweet, flaky goodness. ‘Ah-mazing.’ She swiped her hand across her mouth, letting the crumbs fall to the floor. Poppy watched as Ben’s eyes followed the journey of the crumbs, his eyes widening and brows raising as the flakes hit the floor. ‘Don’t freak out, Ben. I own a dustpan and brush.’
‘No, it’s not…’ Rosy colour hit Ben’s cheeks. ‘It’s, er…’ He indicated to her robe.
Poppy glanced down to see it was gaping about the upper thigh area, showing off her bright pink knickers. ‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry.’ She pulled the robe tighter. ‘Thank God I was wearing a pair of pants. Thank God I’m up-to-date with my washing! Imagine if I was knickerless… and now I’m prattling, and I’ll just shut up. Bloody hell, I’m such a dork.’ Poppy rolled her eyes and re-tied the robe, double knotting it.
‘It’s fine. Really. Um…’ Ben’s cheeks flamed from pink to red as he averted his eyes and turned towards the kitchenette, hoping she hadn’t noticed the way his pants had perked up. ‘How about I get you a plate? Save you spending all day cleaning up after yourself.’
Ben opened the cupboard above the sink and pulled out two plates. Without asking, and to Poppy’s amusement, he took the pain au chocolat out of her hand and placed it on the plate along with a friand and the mille-feuille.
‘You knew where the plates were without being told. I’m impressed.’ Poppy followed Ben to the small dining table, took a seat opposite, then pushed aside the curtains, allowing the sun to stream in, brightening the room… and her outlook.
The veil of doom and gloom that had surrounded her since the previous evening retreated, as if it had realised it was no match for a day where the sky was a brilliant blue, with not a cloud to be seen. A day where the London cityscape rose up to greet her, reminding her there was more to life than brooding about the past and fearing for her future. More wonderful than the day that greeted her from her window, was that the person she cared most about had cared enough to make sure she was okay. And he’d brought her favourite treats and remembered exactly what kind of coffee she liked and how she liked it.
‘What can I say?’ Ben picked up a friand and inspected it. ‘I’m housebroken. I know where things should go in kitchens – which I’m pretty sure makes me the perfect man.’ He took a bite and chewed, a gleam in his eye. ‘You know what also makes me pretty perfect? I never forget an important date.’
Poppy closed her eyes. She knew what was coming next but wanted no part of it. Perhaps ignoring the situation would make it go away. ‘I think the perfect man knows when to let something go. When not to aggravate a situation. And this is a rather pleasant situation we’re enjoying right now. Coffee and pastries while being bathed in sunlight? Best you eat up then go before things go downhill.’ She turned her attention to the street below, where a mother was pushing her squawking baby along the footpath in a space-age style pushchair with one hand, while the other hand was gripping onto a toddler who was trying to make its escape. You and me both, kiddo. She had a feeling neither of them were getting away from their situations anytime soon. ‘Eat up, Ben. Chop chop.’
‘“Chop chop”?’ A short, sharp guffaw filled the room. ‘Who even says that these days? You’ve turned thirty-one, Poppy, not ninety-one.’
Poppy’s lips twitched. Damn it. She could try and be pissy but it wasn’t going to work. Not when Ben was determined to celebrate her birthday, whether she wanted to or not.
‘So, you’re going to force me to celebrate the one day of the year I couldn’t care less about.’ Poppy cupped her chin in the palm of her hand and
drummed her fingertips on her cheek.
‘You don’t have to sound so excited about it, Pops, but yes, I am. And do I have something fantastic planned…’ Ben smacked the table with the flat of his fingers in a rhythmless drumroll, then stood and jogged to the studio’s door where a black backpack was hanging on the doorknob.
How did she miss that? Poppy pondered. And why was Ben oozing excitement? What did he have up his sleeve?
‘Today is a grand day, Poppy Taylor. For today, thirty-one years ago, you chose to grace this world with your presence.’ Ben reached into his backpack and pulled out a gold plastic crown covered in fake gemstones in blue, green, pink, red and purple. ‘Frankly I can’t believe there wasn’t a bank holiday created in your honour. Clearly an oversight. I’m sure it will be rectified one of these days.’ He crossed the room and placed the crown on her head, wiggling it a little to the left and a touch to the right, before giving a nod of satisfaction and stepping back. ‘Perfect.’
Poppy touched the crown, and the grin she’d been holding back stretched her lips. ‘I can’t believe you bought a crown for me. What did the person at the store say when you rocked up to the till with it?’
‘Nothing. I bought it online and had it addressed to Benjalina,’ Ben smirked.
‘Bollocks you did.’ Poppy tore at a piece of her pain au chocolat and popped it in her mouth.
‘You’re right, bollocks I did. Bought it at a store. The teenage girl behind the counter didn’t blink twice. Frankly I think I could have been dressed in a princess costume while buying it and she’d not have noticed. Now, what’s next?’ Ben tapped his chin, then raised his index finger. ‘Oh, that’s right. You need to go get dressed. We’re heading out.’
‘Head out, you say?’ Poppy touched her crown. ‘If I’m wearing a crown does that mean I’m the ruler of all that I survey for the day? Does it mean I can make the rules?’
Ben took hold of Poppy’s hands, sending a frisson of excitement up her arms and down her spine. ‘Cute, your highness. Good try. But no, you can’t make all the rules, just the ones that won’t interfere with what I have planned.’
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 15