The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  ‘Well, I’ll try not to be a difficult neighbour,’ he said, smiling again. ‘I still can’t believe I hadn’t told you about it before. Perhaps you’d like to be my first customer, when we open next week, to make up for the misunderstanding. Come in for lunch. On the house, obviously!’

  ‘I’d like that,’ I said, suddenly overcome by shyness. ‘What sort of things will you be serving?’

  ‘Just sandwiches and cakes and so on, to begin with, anyway. While we get a feel for the market. We’re in the tea shop bracket, really. I make the cakes myself.’

  ‘Do you? Did you train as a chef?’

  ‘Yes. Worked in hotels for ages, before I went into marketing. But I prefer what I’m doing now. Working for ourselves is a bit daunting at times, but the hotel work was stressful in its own way.’

  ‘I know,’ I said – and when I told him about my previous career, it was his turn to look astonished.

  ‘Have you never wanted to get back into catering?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really. It was my dad’s ambition for me, to be honest, not mine. I’m much happier now, working here and doing the Pets As Therapy volunteering in my spare time.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  We smiled at each other, and my heart gave another flutter. Was it possible? Could I actually allow myself to like him, after all? Everything had changed so suddenly, I felt light-headed.

  ‘So … you’re single, then, are you?’ I asked lightly, making a great play of looking at a box of dog biscuits on the counter.

  ‘Since Sarah – Jacob’s mum – died, yes. It was hard, obviously, and Jacob and I have both missed her. There hasn’t been anyone else I’ve been interested in. Until now,’ he added very quietly, so quietly that I thought I must have imagined it. I looked up at him quickly; and then I saw it in his eyes. The look in those deep brown eyes that I’d been longing to see, that I’d been dreaming of, wishing I could stop the dreaming because I was so sure he was with someone else. Could that look really be for plain, quiet, mousy little me?

  ‘I haven’t been interested in anyone, either,’ I said, summarily dismissing Nick as a complete mental aberration on my part. ‘Until now,’ I added softly, meeting those brown eyes over the top of the dog biscuit box.

  ‘Seriously?’ he said, standing up and tentatively reaching for my hand across the counter. ‘I really didn’t think you were the least bit interested in me.’

  ‘I was!’ I was so desperate to explain myself, I wasn’t even blushing. ‘I have been interested, all along. But I wouldn’t let myself, you see, because—’

  ‘Because you thought I was with Rhianna?’ he chuckled softly. ‘That’s so funny.’ Then he stopped laughing, leaned further across the counter and kissed me gently on the cheek. ‘I’m so glad we’re going to be neighbours,’ he said. His breath was hot against my ear, and I wanted nothing more than to grab hold of him there and then, and kiss him properly. But the edge of the counter was digging into me and besides … it was probably just as well. It would be more sensible, not to say more exciting, to take it slowly. And of course, just at that moment the shop doorbell dinged again and an elderly lady came in to buy a new pooper scooper. So I said goodbye to my new neighbour, politely wishing his business venture lots of success, and promising to pop in to see how the premises were progressing as soon as I’d closed up. And when the shop door closed behind him, I startled the life out of my elderly customer by throwing both hands in the air and whooping ‘YES!’ at the top of my voice.

  ‘Are you quite all right, dear?’ she asked, a bit shakily.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Wakefield,’ I apologised, grinning from ear to ear in a way that probably startled her even more. ‘I’m fine. Absolutely, brilliantly, completely fine! Let me show you the pooper scoopers. What a lovely day it’s turned out to be, hasn’t it?’

  ‘It’s pouring with rain,’ she said, giving me a puzzled frown.

  ‘Is it?’

  Strange how I hadn’t even noticed.

  CHAPTER 33

  That Sunday afternoon, as arranged, I walked slowly up the quiet avenue of modern semi-detached houses where Liz lived. I knew the house, obviously; I’d dropped her home there occasionally when we worked together, if we’d had an evening off and been out somewhere. But I’d never been inside – she’d never invited me in. At the time I suppose I had thought it a bit odd, but now I completely understood why. I wondered, now, how often she’d received a beating from her brutal husband just for being out late, while I drove off totally unaware of the danger she was in. If only she’d trusted me enough to confide in me!

  ‘I often wanted to,’ she said, when I put this to her a little later over our first cup of tea. ‘But I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. You often used to tell me how nice it was for you to have a friend, someone who was making you feel more confident and capable—’

  ‘I leant on you. But you should’ve been able to lean on me!’

  ‘You said you looked on me as a kind of mother figure. You thought I was somebody, something, that I wasn’t. How could I tell you the kind of life I was really living, terrified of putting a foot wrong at home, tiptoeing around my husband like a pathetic little mouse, while you were looking up to me like that? I was so ashamed.’

  I shook my head. ‘All of it was his fault, Liz, not yours: you know that. And I feel bad for never bothering to find out. For not looking deeper, I suppose, than I wanted to. Yes, I treated you as a substitute mum. I used you, in a way, and it was selfish of me, I can see that now.’ I sighed. ‘Instead of getting to know you properly and being a friend to you, I made you, inside my head, into what I wanted you to be.’

  ‘What you needed me to be,’ she corrected me gently, taking hold of my hand. ‘I can’t imagine how it must feel to have grown up without a mother. You were such a shy, timid little thing when I first met you. As I said before, it felt important to me to look after you, to stop you being taken advantage of.’ She paused, then went on even more quietly, ‘The only time I ever heard you raise your voice was when you were wrongly accused of that mistake. The mistake I made. Even while I was struck dumb with the guilt of not owning up, not stepping in to save you, I couldn’t help admiring you, then.’

  ‘I can’t stand things being unfair,’ I said with a shrug. ‘I never could. It wasn’t fair that my mum died at only thirty-five.’

  ‘Of course it wasn’t. You poor child.’

  Suddenly we were in each other’s arms, hugging each other, both of us crying.

  ‘I’m sorry, so sorry, how could I have let you down like that?’ Liz was sobbing, as I rubbed her back and stroked her hair and told her it was all right, I understood now, understood the terrible, secret threat she’d been living with.

  ‘I missed you so much,’ I admitted, wiping my eyes.

  ‘Me too. You were the daughter I was never able to have,’ she said, after we’d both calmed down a bit.

  ‘I always assumed you didn’t want children. You never talked about it.’

  She gave a short laugh. ‘Huh. I wanted them, desperately at first. When it didn’t happen, I had some tests done but the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me, so I asked Paul to go for tests. You can imagine how that went down. It hurt to walk for weeks afterwards, where he’d knocked me to the floor and kicked me in the back for daring to suggest it.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Quite. That was when I decided we mustn’t have children. I couldn’t risk it; I went back on the Pill, always hiding them from him, of course. How could I bring kids into a marriage like that? Funny, though, it still didn’t occur to me to walk away. If I had … well, I might have met someone else, eventually, and had a family. What a fool I’ve been.’

  ‘But it’s never too late to start again,’ I said. ‘And that’s what you’re doing now. Finally.’

  ‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘Is it too late for us, Jess? Would you consider giving me another chance?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ I hugged her again,
briefly, then held her at arm’s length, looking straight into her eyes. ‘But this time, let’s just be friends. No mother figure, no daughter substitute. That wasn’t very healthy for either of us, was it?’

  ‘And you don’t need it any more. Look at you! I just can’t believe the change in you. You’ve grown up—’

  I laughed. ‘You said that before. But I’ll be thirty-one next month, Liz!’

  ‘Yes. But it took you a long time to stop being that lost little eight-year-old, didn’t it,’ she said softly. ‘Now: tell me all about what’s happened in your life recently. We’ve got some catching up to do!’

  And over another cup of tea and a slice of cake, we did just that. I told her about the volunteering with PAT; about the debacle with Nick (although maybe I left out a few details); about Ruth’s drinking and how she turned it around and met Ollie; about the Christmas market and my decision to get more involved with the Pennycombe Bay community in future. I told her, a little shyly, about Tom and the new café; and about Jim retiring and how I was now managing the shop.

  ‘Good for you,’ she said when I ran out of steam. ‘It all sounds perfect.’ She sighed. ‘I’m going to need to get a new job myself now, of course, although God knows how. Nobody will want to employ me, after getting the sack from The Grand.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I thought about myself,’ I said, ‘but Jim took me on. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.’ I stopped, a sudden thought coming to me. ‘Actually, Liz … I can’t promise anything, but … do you mind what sort of work you do?’

  ‘Of course not!’ she laughed. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll clean toilets if necessary.’

  ‘Well, it might not be. Leave it to me, I’ll see what I can do.’

  I left soon after that, but not before Liz had told me her new plan for companionship: she was getting a cat. I was thrilled with the idea. It would be great company for her and give her back some purpose in her life. I told her how good Doc had been for Vera, how much she’d enjoyed having her little cat and how he’d even attracted attention for her when she was ill.

  ‘There’s nothing like a furry friend to cheer you up and make you feel like life’s worth living,’ I assured her as we parted company. ‘I’ll help you choose him if you like.’

  And so a date was made for another visit to the cat sanctuary, and I left Liz looking excited and thinking up names for her new friend. And as soon as her front door had closed behind me, I was calling Jim on my mobile.

  Every day that week, I buzzed between the shop and the café next door, almost unable, physically, to keep away. If I was too busy in the shop, for an hour or more, to pop next door, Tom would come into the pet shop instead. We couldn’t stop grinning at each other. It felt as if we were being pulled together by magnets – I could almost feel him through the wall. The café was taking shape and looking good; Tom had an artistic flair with the décor, and when I saw the posters of old 1950s and 1960s pop stars on the walls, the name of Pop-Inn Café suddenly seemed a bit less trite than I’d first thought!

  ‘The kitchen’s almost finished now,’ he said. ‘I’ll be ready to open on Monday.’

  ‘Great. I’ll be one of your first customers.’

  ‘I certainly hope so. I promised you lunch on the house, didn’t I! Oh, and dogs are welcome, by the way. I’m putting up a notice to that effect.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  He turned away, seeming to hide a grin, and muttering something to himself about it being part of the business. I wondered if he was perhaps going to make all pets welcome, and bring Coco in to work with him. Anyway, I would certainly be bringing Prudence with me for my lunch that Monday!

  I picked Liz up on the Wednesday, straight after my stint at the school, to go and choose her new cat. I’d particularly enjoyed listening to Jacob reading his book to Prudence that afternoon. The change in the child during recent months had been truly amazing: he now read with confidence and lots of expression, his eyes bright with enjoyment, and I was pleased and proud to learn from Mrs Armstrong that he really didn’t need the special reading sessions any longer, but that she was going to let him keep coming in for the rest of the school year.

  ‘Jacob has always been a good reader,’ she said. ‘The problem was with his emotional state rather than his reading ability, and you and Prudence have helped him so much with that, but I don’t want to stop the sessions until I’m sure he can cope, emotionally, without them.’

  ‘I’m really glad we’ve been able to help,’ I said.

  And I was glad, too, of course, that Jacob would be allowed to keep coming, even though his reading aloud had improved so much. Hopefully by the end of the school year he’d be feeling even stronger.

  Liz and I spent ages at the cat sanctuary. So many beautiful cats and kittens needed homes that I was sorely tempted to choose one for myself too, but I knew Pru would have had a sulk about it! Liz finally settled on a little girl kitten: a tabby with a cute pink nose, which she wrinkled when she gave her soft squeaky meow.

  ‘She’s adorable,’ I said, stroking her tiny head. ‘Have you chosen a name?’

  ‘Pickle,’ she said, laughing. ‘I wanted a cheerful, fun name, to fit with the new cheerful, fun life I’m determined to have.’

  ‘It couldn’t be more perfect,’ I agreed. ‘Hello, Pickle!’ I added, tickling the little kitten under her chin. ‘Oh yes, it definitely suits her, Liz.’

  ‘And do you know what I’d really like to do – when she’s old enough, after she’s settled down with me?’ she went on. ‘I’d like to volunteer, like you do with Prudence. I’d like to take her into hospitals to cheer up people who’ve been hurt. It’s such a lovely thing you do.’

  ‘And lovely that you want to join us,’ I said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I really hope Pickle turns out to be suitable. Not too much of a pickle!’

  We laughed together, and I felt a warmth that belied the cold January day. Life could be good for Liz again, I was sure of it, and I hoped I might be part of that. On the way home, I told her the news I’d been hugging to myself.

  ‘If you want it, Liz, and if it’s enough for you – to start with, anyway – I can offer you a part-time job.’

  She gave a little jump of surprise. ‘At the shop?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve talked to Jim about it, and he said he had always anticipated that I’d soon need some help. Not too many hours yet, during the winter season – but that might suit you anyway. You might need to spend as much time as possible with Pickle, getting her settled. But once we get busier, I’ll be able to offer you more hours, definitely. I’m expanding our lines all the time, and trying different ways to encourage people in.’

  ‘I can’t thank you enough, Jess,’ Liz said, her voice shaky with emotion. ‘It would mean so much to me – even a few hours a week would help me feel useful again and I’d love to work for you.’

  ‘Good: that’s definite then. I’d like you to start off doing a few hours every Friday and Saturday; but eventually, when you’re confident enough, I’ll be asking you to do Wednesday mornings too – on your own, so that we’re not closed the whole day. Don’t worry,’ I added quickly with a smile. ‘Not till later in the year.’

  ‘Perfect. Thank you again.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve got so much to look forward to already, haven’t I. I’m so lucky.’

  Lucky? I thought to myself. For having been beaten senseless throughout her marriage, and finally so badly that her husband had been locked up for it? Well, I was glad, at least, that I was able to help her look forward to something better now.

  I told Tom about her, the next day when I popped in as usual to see how the preparations were going for opening the café. I didn’t mention her personal life, just that I had a friend who needed a job and that I was pleased to be taking her on as an assistant.

  ‘Yes,’ he said to my surprise, ‘Jim mentioned that. Good idea.’

  ‘Jim mentioned it?’ I frowned. ‘You’ve been talking to Jim?’


  ‘Oh … um … yes. He came in the other day to see how we were getting on, you know, with the renovations and setting everything up here.’ He smiled, but he seemed suddenly to look a bit awkward. ‘So we had a chat.’

  ‘Right.’ I shrugged. I supposed it was natural that Jim would be interested. He did sometimes pop into the pet shop to see me, of course, while he and Vera were out shopping, and he’d probably had a little curious peek at next door while he was at it. ‘Anyway, it’s all looking great, Tom. You must be excited.’

  ‘Yes!’ He straightened up and flexed his shoulders. He’d been working hard for two weeks now, getting everything ready. ‘But meanwhile, are you going to Kevin and Dan’s party tomorrow night?’

  ‘Of course I am! Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away!’ I laughed.

  ‘Good. I’ll see you there, then.’ And he leaned close to put his arm around my shoulders and give me a little peck on the cheek as usual. It was nice. No, it was more than just nice, it made me almost shudder with the nearness of him and the desire for more. This time, he held me for just a fraction longer, looking into my eyes. ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ he said.

  I kept repeating it to myself all day, and all the way home that night. I even whispered it to Pru while we were having our walk before dinner. Her paw had healed well, but I was keeping the walks shorter than usual.

  ‘He’s looking forward to it. Looking forward to seeing me at the party! He said so!’

  Oh, no. Not all this again? Remember what happened with Nick?

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is different. As different as it’s possible to be. Tom’s lovely. We’re so alike, both a bit quiet and shy, so we understand each other. And there’s no side to him. No secrets, no surprises. He’s an open book. And I like what I’m reading there!’ I added with a silly little giggle to myself.

  Oh My Dog. Listen to yourself! You sound like a cat meowing on the rooftop for a mate!