The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  ‘But it’s true. Since the new shop opened on Market Square, what chance do I have? I’m wasting my time, frankly.’

  Jim nodded sympathetically. The new Pennycombe Bay branch of one of the big newsagent chains had only been open for a couple of months, but already Mr Patel had told us his trade had dwindled alarmingly.

  ‘Could you introduce something new, Mr P?’ I said as I brought in the tea. ‘More grocery lines maybe?’

  ‘Jess is always looking to diversify here,’ Jim said, giving me a proud smile. ‘It’s the only way little shops like ours can hope to compete.’

  ‘No.’ There was a fairly long pause. Mr Patel had a strange expression on his face: sad, but kind of determined. ‘It’s no good, my dear friends,’ he went on. ‘The competition is too great. I’m making a loss. I cannot recover from this.’

  ‘But surely,’ Jim said, ‘there are ways to attract new customers – new lines, as Jess says?’Mr P looked from Jim to me, and back again.

  ‘I haven’t got the heart for it, Jim, to be honest with you. I’m getting too old—’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Jim said. ‘You’re younger than me, Ganesh! This business with the new shop has upset you, that’s understandable—’

  But Mr P was shaking his head.

  ‘No. It’s only to be expected. New businesses, bigger businesses – the threat has always been there. At one time I’d have relished the challenge, my friends. But now, I simply don’t have the energy. I don’t want to go on fighting a losing battle. It’s time to retire, while I still can – before my little shop makes me bankrupt – and enjoy the rest of my life with my dear wife.’

  For a moment we were all silent. Then Jim nodded slowly.

  ‘I do understand where you’re coming from, Ganesh. It’ll be strange not having you next door, though.’

  Finally, Mr P came to sit down in the chair by the counter, and Jim and I raised our mugs of tea to wish him a happy retirement. But, however many times he assured us that he was relieved to have made the decision, I couldn’t stop feeling sad about it. I’d miss his cheerful face when I bought my morning paper.

  ‘I wonder who’ll take over the shop, and whether it’ll still be a newsagent’s,’ I said later to Jim.

  ‘Who knows?’ he responded a little sourly. ‘More likely a charity shop. They seem to take over all the empty premises, don’t they?’

  ‘Well, that would be better than it staying empty.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ He sighed. ‘It’s made me think, you know, Jess. Ganesh is younger than me, and he’s retiring.’

  ‘Yes, but only because of the other shop taking all his business.’

  ‘I know. But it’s made me think, all the same.’

  I felt a flicker of unease. I’d never heard Jim talk about retiring before. He might have been old enough, but he was still fit and sprightly, and had always seemed to enjoy his work so much. I just hoped this was only a reaction to Mr Patel’s news.

  CHAPTER 20

  The next week was the end of October half-term holiday, when there was normally a last upward turn for the tourism business in Pennycombe Bay before the quiet months from November to February. It was a pleasant, mild week and there were families on the beach again, some paddle-boarders out on the sea in wet suits and queues at the ice-cream counters. Ruth took a week’s holiday from her work and we went for walks with Prudence along the coast path in my lunch breaks, and spent time outside tidying up the garden. More often than not now, she was feeling better in herself, and the bad days when she felt awful and started snapping at me again were far more bearable, for both of us, because I was able to remind her that she would get through it. She looked better too, everything about her – her skin, eyes and hair, as well as her mood – was so much improved from giving up alcohol that I almost wished Nick could see her, just to let him know what he was missing. Almost wished it. But by now, on a personal level, I was actually beginning to feel relieved that he’d disappeared from the scene.

  One afternoon during that week, we’d been for a walk along the beach at Stony Cove, and I suggested to Ruth that we stopped off at the beach café for a cup of tea.

  ‘Good idea. Let’s have a scone too.’

  Her appetite was another thing that had improved, and I didn’t need too much encouragement to join her in tucking into a cream tea.

  ‘What are you two – a couple of tourists now?’ Kevin teased us. ‘Now, mind to put thee cream on before thee jam, dawnt’ee, my luvlies – ’ee be in Debn, ’ee knows, not bliddy Cornwall!’

  We laughed. It was the little speech Kevin always gave, in an exaggerated Devon accent, to any grockles who ordered Real Devon Cream Teas. It usually sparked a whole conversation about the cream-first versus jam-first thing, and often ended up with the tourists thanking him and saying how interesting that was. In fact Kevin was born and raised in London but was a good mimic and liked to please people or make them laugh. Well, he normally did. I hadn’t seen him this cheerful for some time, though.

  ‘You seem cheery,’ I said. ‘I take it things have improved, then?’

  He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. ‘Not really, Jess. But I’ve made a decision, so I feel a bit less stressed.’

  ‘What …’ I paused, almost holding my breath. ‘What decision?’

  ‘I’m going to my sister’s.’

  ‘Not … permanently?’

  ‘For a few weeks, at least to begin with. Don’t look at me like that. Dan will be all right – it’s the off season coming up, he can run this place on his own, right through the winter if necessary. I’ve got to do something, Jess. I can’t just sit around waiting for him to decide whether I matter to him or not. I’m going to give him fair warning, but this time I’ll have to carry it through, if nothing changes. I’ve already threatened it once and wimped out. He’ll stop taking any notice if I do it again. So I’ll spend the next couple of weeks making sure I leave everything straight for him before I go: all the bills paid, everything up to date. Then I’m off.’

  ‘Just for a couple of weeks, though?’ I said hopefully.

  ‘That depends on him, doesn’t it? I’ll wait to see whether he misses me and wants me back. If he doesn’t, well, there’s plenty of work in London, and Lou says I can stay as long as I want.’

  It was bravado, obviously. I could see the pain in his eyes even as he spoke, shrugging with almost every word.

  ‘Don’t talk like that, Kevin. I’m sure he’ll soon realise what he’s missing.’

  ‘Only cos he likes the way I make his coffee,’ he said, trying but failing to sound jovial. He made a big act of swabbing down the counter, not meeting our eyes. ‘Sit ’ee down, my lovelies. I’ll bring ’ee thee scones dreckly.’

  ‘What’s going on with them?’ Ruth asked when we’d found ourselves a table, and I filled her in with the situation. ‘That’s sad,’ she agreed. ‘They’ve been together for ages, certainly for as long as I’ve lived here, anyway.’

  ‘I know.’ I fell silent, suddenly stricken with a feeling of anxiety. Kevin talking about possibly leaving Pennycombe Bay; Mr Patel saying he was closing the newsagent’s; would the third thing be Jim deciding he wanted to retire too? I didn’t like the thought of these changes. From a purely selfish viewpoint, I was concerned about the implications for my own job. But quite apart from that, the people involved were longstanding members of the community. Like most small seaside towns, the population was ageing. A lot of the young people who grew up here moved up-country to find work after they left school or college. We needed those loyal stalwarts of the town, needed their dependability and devotion to Pennycombe Bay, or the town would start to see businesses closing down and shops boarded up. The quirky old buildings that gave Pennycombe Bay its picture-postcard appeal would be bought up by developers, new premises would take their places and the whole character of the town would be lost.

  ‘What’s up?’ Ruth asked, as I sat staring out at the sea, all these thoughts crowding my mind.


  I gave myself a little shake. It was Kevin and Dan’s relationship I should be most concerned about.

  ‘Nothing, sorry. Just thinking about poor Kevin. I hope Dan comes to his senses,’ I said. ‘Kevin says he’ll take Missy with him.’ I nodded at their little princess, who was sitting on her pink cushion, her nose in the air as usual. ‘I can’t imagine how Dan will cope with losing her and Kevin. I’m sure he’ll soon beg him to come back.’

  ‘But perhaps he really does want out of it,’ she pointed out. ‘Perhaps he just didn’t know how to tell Kevin it was over, so he’s waited for him to give up on it.’

  ‘That’s a coward’s way out, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Poor Kev just wants reassurance, that’s all. He says Dan won’t even talk about it.’

  ‘Hmm. Doesn’t sound good to me,’ she said.

  Ruth knew more than I did about relationships, obviously. Who didn’t? But I just hoped she was wrong about this one.

  The following week, Tom, who’d now become one of our best customers, came into the shop again, looking slightly anxious as usual.

  ‘What happened next door?’ he asked.

  Jim and I had, of course, been answering this question continuously since the newsagent’s had shut down. Mr P hadn’t wasted any time, once he’d made up his mind. There was a large sign on the door: THIS SHOP IS NOW CLOSED – and Mr Patel, with his two sons who’d come to help him, had been emptying out the premises.

  ‘He’s retiring,’ I explained to Tom. ‘He closed up last week.’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t noticed. I was away last week – half-term,’ he said. ‘Took my son to Centre Parcs.’

  ‘That sounds lovely.’ I paused. ‘Is he any happier at school now?’

  ‘Well, the holiday seemed to do him good. But he cried when he had to go back to school on Monday.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ I gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Poor kid. I do hope it all settles down soon. Does he seem happy enough when he’s at home?’ I flushed, as I wondered if that had sounded a bit rude. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply there was anything wrong—’

  ‘I know you didn’t.’ He smiled, and once again I thought what a difference it made to his face. ‘Yes, he always seems relieved, frankly, to be home. He cuddles up with Coco as soon as he gets in. I think he talks to her.’ He stopped abruptly and glanced at me. ‘Does that sound a bit mad?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ I assured him. ‘Don’t we all talk to our pets?’ I nearly added that mine actually talked back to me, but I didn’t think I knew him well enough for that.

  He smiled again. ‘Yes, I suppose so. It does seem to calm him down, being with her. I only wish he could take her to school with him.’ He paused, watching me while I stacked up his usual supply of cat food. ‘Actually, you know,’ he went on, ‘apparently there used to be a woman who took her dog into the school. My son’s teacher told me she sat with some of the children and listened to them read, but she pretended it was the dog who was listening to them. It seemed to help the kids who had problems with reading. They didn’t feel so stressed by the situation.’

  ‘Oh!’ I looked up at him, surprised. ‘Was that part of the Pets As Therapy organisation? I’m involved in it myself, visiting the hospital, and I did see something on their website about some volunteers doing school visits. I think it’s called read2dogs.’

  ‘That sounds right. But whoever that volunteer was, she doesn’t do it any more. I think she must have stopped before my son even started school.’

  ‘Ah, that’s a shame.’

  I rung up his sale and after a little more chat about other things, Tom went off with Coco’s food.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ Jim commented after he’d gone. ‘Are you thinking what I think you are?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it seems such a shame that kids like Tom’s son could be benefiting from such a simple little thing, doesn’t it.’

  ‘You’re already visiting the children’s ward, though. You wouldn’t want to stop that, would you?’

  ‘No. But I’ve got enough time to fit this in too. I could easily do both on Wednesdays. I have the whole day, don’t I?’

  He was smiling at me. ‘You look really excited about it. You’d better find out a bit more about it first, hadn’t you?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll call the school and ask if they’d be interested in me going in to talk to one of the teachers about it.’

  I was secretly hoping I’d be able to go to one particular class, of course. Tom seemed so worried about his little boy. I realised I’d never even asked the boy’s name. I’d find out, next time Tom was in the shop, then if the school agreed to me going in with Prudence to hear children read, I’d see if I could fix it so that his son was among those we tried to help.

  ‘Getting ahead of yourself, are you?’ Jim asked me gently, as I leant on the counter, thinking about it.

  I shrugged. ‘It just sounds like a really nice thing to do,’ I said.

  During my lunch break I found the phone number for Pennycombe Bay Primary School, and called the school secretary straight away.

  ‘I’ll get the head to call you back,’ she said – and he did, less than ten minutes later. He sounded almost as excited as I was. The last volunteer, he told me, had moved away a couple of years earlier, but her visits had been so successful, he’d love to discuss starting the scheme again. When could I come in to talk to him?

  I told Prudence about it that evening.

  I think I’d like that. I hope the children will read me some nice stories.

  ‘I’m sure they will, Pru! But you know, they might read very slowly, and make mistakes. You’ll just have to lie there and listen, even if the story drags on a bit.’

  It might send me to sleep.

  ‘That’s a good point! I’ll have to nudge you awake if it does.’

  I raised this subject with the headmaster, Mr Phillips, when I met him the following week. He laughed.

  ‘I think the previous volunteer used to tell the children her dog had just closed his eyes but was still listening.’

  ‘That sounds like a good plan!’ I said, laughing too.

  I’d been a little bit nervous of meeting Mr Phillips, and when I first went into his office I was reminded of my own schooldays, when the headmaster was a fearsome creature whose domain I would never have wanted to enter. But within minutes I was put at my ease. For a start, he was much younger than I’d expected, with cropped, sandy-coloured hair and warm, expressive eyes. He was friendly and informal, but when he spoke about his school and his pupils, he seemed full of energy and passion. I liked him straight away. We chatted for some time about how the scheme worked with the previous volunteer, and I told him all about Prudence and how much she and I enjoyed visiting the children’s ward at the hospital.

  ‘It sounds like she’ll be perfect,’ he said. ‘The children who benefit from this scheme are those with some kind of difficulty about reading aloud. A lot of them are struggling with reading itself, of course. Others are progressing normally but finding it stressful having to read to the teacher or teaching assistant. They might be frightened of making mistakes, or anxious about the sound of their own voice – you’d be surprised. But really, it shouldn’t be so surprising; after all, even adults can find public speaking very stressful.’

  ‘Yes.’ I grimaced. ‘I can certainly empathise with that.’

  He smiled. ‘And don’t worry, the teacher or TA will be in charge the whole time. You won’t be expected to do anything apart from keeping Prudence under control, on her lead, of course. The kids get to pet her after they’ve finished reading. That’s their reward.’

  ‘Pru will love that bit!’

  He looked at some notes in front of him – I guessed it was my own details, that I’d given him during the brief chat we’d had on the phone.

  ‘You didn’t come to us through a Pets As Therapy area coordinator, then?’

  I shook my head. ‘I was told when I joined PAT that there wasn’t one for this area. I und
erstand they’re volunteers themselves, and there don’t seem to be many of us around here. They did ask me if I wanted a more experienced volunteer to go with me when I first visited the hospital, but … I decided to just plunge in and go on my own.’

  I didn’t tell him the real reason. Despite how nervous I’d felt, back then, about my first visit, I was worried that the more experienced volunteer could have turned out to be Nick. I’d have felt even more nervous with him accompanying me!

  ‘But you said you’d heard from somewhere that our school might need a volunteer?’ Mr Phillips said.

  ‘Oh – yes, that was through talking to one of our customers at the pet shop.’ I smiled. ‘He was telling me that his little boy, who’s a pupil here, is having some anxiety problems, especially with reading aloud. And he mentioned that there used to be a read2dogs volunteer.’

  ‘I see.’ Mr Phillips looked at me with renewed interest. ‘What’s the child’s name? I’ll ask his teacher if he’s suitable to be included in your visits.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be nice – but stupidly, I only know his father as Tom. Sorry, can I find out, and give you a call?’

  ‘Of course.’ He wrote something down on his pad, and after we’d agreed that I’d visit on Wednesday afternoons starting the following week, he shook my hand firmly and thanked me effusively for offering to help the children.

  I walked home feeling excited and happy. I was sure this new placement with PAT was going to be just as rewarding and interesting as the visits to Seashell Ward, and once again, I’d be working with children, which I’d come to really enjoy. So I might as well play to my strengths!

  CHAPTER 21

  Pennycombe Bay being the sort of place it was, it didn’t take long for me to find someone who knew Tom.

  ‘Tall, dark, handsome, drives a little blue what-d’you-call-it – Peugeot?’ Vera said, when I asked her a few questions during my visit to her the next evening – surprising me with her knowledge of cars.

  ‘Well, I don’t know what car he drives,’ I said. He’d told us he parked outside the shop, but I’d never really noticed.