Chapter 4
FOUR
‘This is absolutely cracking,’ said Dad, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips – the universal dad stance. He then walked around, assessing the coving, kicking the skirting boards and running his hand over the paintwork. ‘A good solid bit of workmanship in here. They knew how to put a building together in the old days.’
He had a point. I loved the period building even more on my second visit; the wood panelling in the corridor, the hardwood doors with a glossy finish. Even the door handles looked like the original brass, the ends of them curled like seashells. It was gorgeous, and I was lucky enough to be working here for the next month or two.
‘I’ll start unloading the van then, kidda,’ he said with a grin and left me to stand there on my own, soaking it all in.
There was quiet acoustic guitar music emanating from a speaker on the other side of the shop, and a sign propped up in his side of the window read ‘Uncle Al’s Records’. No doubt an ironic name, or a music reference that I didn’t understand. Penn himself was nowhere to be seen. I wondered when he’d make an appearance, and if I’d be able to avoid staring into his dark eyes when he did. Since he’d extended the offer to share, my memories of how gorgeous he was had won out over our earlier rivalry.
I wandered over and took a look at my shop-mate’s things. On the shelving at the back were rows of albums, mostly with band names that I’d never heard of, and the other walls were decorated with music-related prints and artwork. There were reclaimed wooden crates with more vinyl stacked upon them, a range of CDs and tapes that looked quite old, and some band T-shirts, neatly folded. Then, beside his cash desk, there was a glass case with a lock between the doors, which held a few more records and some signed memorabilia. I touched the glass, peering closer inside – in the middle, standing on its own, was a black LP with a triangle and rainbow, still in its plastic packaging. The Dark Side of the Moon .
‘Are you into Pink Floyd?’ came a voice from behind me.
I spun round. Penn was there, his hair hanging loose this time, dark tendrils framing his angular face. I locked eyes with him, immediately failing in my resolve to avoid doing so. They were just so damn magnetic. As my heart began to pound, I scrambled for something to say. ‘No. I’m afraid my tastes run more to Taylor Swift and Beyoncé.’
His lips twitched almost imperceptibly and he nodded. ‘Cool. So… moving-in day. I’m glad we were able to come to an arrangement.’ He glanced at my side of the shop, and as the eye contact broke, I felt my heart rate slow.
‘Me too. And… thanks. For offering to share. Although Mike said you didn’t have much stock.’ I looked again at the piles of musical junk and it didn’t seem that sparse to me.
He shrugged. ‘It condenses down. Makes sense to share the space. Maybe we can help generate customers for each other.’
‘Maybe.’
My eyes roved over his side of the shop again. The wealth of music-related paraphernalia reminded me of seeing Penn on stage in the bar. We still hadn’t spoken about our first meeting, so I thought maybe I should. But he was already looking at me with a knowing half-smile and beat me to it.
‘Mike mentioned it’s artisanal wellness products that you’re selling,’ he said. ‘I remember you saying that you were into visual arts – are you selling any of your own work?’
‘Uh, no. Not at this point.’ My little wool animals were very much loved, but only by myself, and I doubted anyone would buy a misshapen harvest mouse or ladybird.
‘Shame. I was hoping to see it. But still, artisanal products should sit well alongside my half of the shop.’
‘Mmhm,’ I said, thinking about the boxloads of silicone muffin tins and electric epilators outside in the van. Maybe they weren’t the best conduit to a flow of customers towards Uncle Al’s. I felt a prickle of unease. Penn had clearly agreed to this based on our shops complementing each other and seemed pretty set on a certain ‘vibe’.
‘Is that your van outside?’ he asked. ‘Do you need any help bringing stuff in?’
‘That’s okay,’ I said. ‘I have my A-team with me. We’ll try and be quick so we don’t get in the way of your customers.’ I quickly noted the absence of any patrons. ‘I mean the ones that might arrive any minute.’ I flashed an awkward grin.
His smile faltered a little. ‘It’s fine. All good. Just give me a yell if you need anything.’ He walked behind his cash desk and started thumbing through his phone, and although he’d been polite, I got the feeling that I’d been dismissed. Business Penn seemed a little more aloof than Musician Penn. Then, just before I turned away, I caught him glancing up at me. Our brief eye contact was like a game of pinball – my gaze flickered up to the thermostat on the wall, as if it was the most interesting thing I’d seen all day, and his returned swiftly to his phone screen. I was surprised to feel a little twist in my stomach, although that could well have been from embarrassment. Dad came in with the first of the boxes, one stacked on top of another, and I rushed to help him set them down. Then my mam walked in, using her stick for reassurance, although she insisted she was feeling better.
‘Eeh, this is smashing, Annie. Really lovely.’ Then she noticed Penn and lowered her voice. ‘He’s tasty. How will you keep your eye on the job with him floating around?’
‘ Mam !’ I whispered. ‘He might be able to hear you.’ I gave Penn a nervous glance, but he was still absorbed in his phone.
‘All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for dropping toast crumbs on the duvet,’ she murmured. ‘If it wasn’t for your dad, of course.’
‘Delightful,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I’ll help your husband with the heavy stuff. Do you want to get started with putting up the signs?’
‘Let me at it,’ she said, opening one of the boxes Dad had brought in. Inside were some of the merchandising posters that had come as part of the package with her various ventures.
We spent the next few hours bringing in tables, benches and shelves. I had given one of the shelving units from Mam and Dad’s garage a lick of paint, and Dad had offered his wallpaper table, which I covered with a spotty tablecloth. He’d set to work hammering up a cash desk – a rectangular counter with a panel on the front and a shelf underneath to hide my money tin. I also had a nifty app on my phone for taking card payments.
Mam was going great guns sticking up various posters for the products, as well as assembling some vertical banners with similar advertising. I looked over at Penn, who’d stayed quiet other than to turn down a cup of tea from my mother, and saw that he was staring at the metamorphosis of my shop. His brow was furrowed as he looked from the sign promoting a herbal weight-loss remedy to another featuring a buy-one-get-one-free deal on camping cookware. Then a customer came in and made a beeline for one of his record stands.
‘Alright, mate,’ he said and turned his back on me to do business.
It was lunchtime when we’d finished assembling everything and laying out stock, and we stopped for a sandwich, Mam sitting on my chair behind the desk, my dad and I leaning against the tables. Penn had disappeared, maybe out for his own lunch. There was a gentle knock on the door frame and Christa came in, followed by two men who looked to be in their sixties and another younger man with blonde hair in nineties-style curtains.
‘Heeeyy,’ she said, beaming. ‘Welcome to the gang.’
‘Hi! I still can’t believe I’m here, it’s been such a whirlwind. Hello, everyone.’ I waved to the assembled group and one of the older men hurried over, taking both of my hands in his.
‘A very warm welcome,’ he said in a sweet Scottish brogue. His hair was white but full, and he was wearing a tweed jacket and a bow tie. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Arthur and this here is Sven.’
The other older man came forward; he was taller, dressed in loose pants and a Nehru shirt, and had a thin, twirly moustache.
‘How do you do?’ he said with a Scandinavian lilt.
‘And this is Jake,’ said Christa, presenting the blonde man. He wore jeans and a peacock-blue tracksuit jacket zipped up right under his chin.
‘Alreet,’ he said, his accent even thicker than my dad’s. He nodded over to Penn’s side of the shop. ‘How are you getting on with Franz Ferdinand over there?’
Christa batted his arm. ‘Shush, you. Give him a chance; you don’t even know him.’
‘I’d have a hard job getting to know him. He never fucking speaks.’
I blinked at him. Penn hadn’t been exactly brimming with conversation, but I was surprised to hear the others hadn’t warmed to him.
‘Mind your language, Jacob,’ chided Arthur. ‘We don’t want to give these lovely people the wrong impression.’
He smoothly introduced himself to my mam and dad, and was joined immediately by Sven, who rested a hand on the small of his back while they all chatted.
Jake came closer to me with a subtle swagger.
‘I like what you’ve done with the place. Annie, isn’t it? Listen, if you ever get bored, I’m just down the hall, and I’ve got better chat than Mr Mysterious.’
I blinked at him, feeling my cheeks grow pink. What did I say to that? Thankfully, Christa intervened.
‘Give it five minutes before you hit on our newest recruit,’ she said, rolling her eyes, before she turned to me. ‘Don’t listen to him. I’ve heard his chat and unless you’re interested in football or the highest-rated European lagers, you might be better giving him a wide berth.’
I nodded, unsure of what to say to this, so opted to ask him a polite question. ‘So, what kind of shop do you have?’
‘Phone repairs, accessories, headphones and that. I do vapes as well – every liquid flavour you can think of. I’ve got a Christmas range just in, if you fancy a mince pie flavour?’
‘Ah, thanks. I don’t vape. But it sounds delicious.’
‘It is. I’m due a delivery of candy cane ones any time now, so I’ll love ya and leave ya.’
‘Sorry about him,’ said Christa as he left. ‘He’s harmless really, but he’s a cocky little sod. So, do you want to show me around?’
‘Sure!’ I led her around the various shelves and stands, and she was kind enough to admire everything, even the selection of supportive wrist bandages. We came to a table of natural skincare products, with ingredients like hemp seed oil and chamomile.
‘I have these too!’ she said. ‘Everything in my shop is vegan, cruelty-free and has healing properties.’
‘Oh. I hope I’m not treading on your toes.’
‘Don’t be silly. Skincare’s just a tiny bit of my stuff. I’m more into incense, jewellery, crystals, that kind of thing.’
‘On the subject of crystals… Your gem bath must have worked wonders. Mike called me the very next day.’
She grinned. ‘That and a quiet word in Mike’s ear. He really liked you, and when I explained how the universe brought me to the Christmas shop, I persuaded him that it was fate. He’s not much of a believer, but I’m very persuasive. And anyway, it looks like I could have saved myself the trouble. Fate’s also come in the form of an angsty musician with some room at the inn.’
I nodded. ‘Well, thank you for your part. I really need this.’
Christa gave me a sympathetic look; I imagined she was remembering my confession about my money woes. ‘I know how you feel. We’re all feeling the pinch, I think. Anyway, how are you getting on with Penn?’
‘It’s hard to tell. I’ve only been here a few hours and he’s mostly kept to his side of the shop, but I’m sure he’ll warm up.’
‘I’m sure he will. He might just be a slow burner. Listen, I’ve got to shoot, but come and say hi whenever you want.’
‘I will,’ I said, meaning it. ‘And thanks again.’
‘No problem. The Christmas shop’s loss is our gain.’
After she left, so did Sven and Arthur, and not long after that, Mam and Dad said their goodbyes too.
‘I’m proud of you, kidda,’ said my dad, pulling me in and kissing the top of my head.
Mam joined in for a group hug, and I felt such a surge of positivity. I had the shop, my family, a potential new friend and, most importantly, a way out of our financial train wreck.
‘Thanks, guys,’ I said and waved them goodbye as they climbed into the van and drove off.
I spent some time fussing with the arrangement of my wares and moving some of the product signs into more prominent positions. It was a bit of a jumble; there was no real coherence to the layout, my labels and stickers were a range of neon colours reminiscent of nineties shell suits and there were still boxes lying around that I needed to put away. There simply wasn’t enough room to put everything on display, so I would need to keep replenishing things as I sold out.
To the back of the room was a small storage space accessible through a door between our two floor-spaces, so I took some of the boxes through and stacked them neatly next to Penn’s. Some of my boxes were still unopened, sealed up with parcel tape and contents unknown, but I’d have to take a look at them another time. Right now, I had a sign to paint or there would be no customers to take any products off my hands when I officially opened tomorrow. I made myself a cup of tea with the shared kettle and grabbed a paintbrush.
When I went back through to the shop, Penn had returned. He was sitting behind his counter, leaning back in his chair with a cup of takeaway coffee in his hand. He looked up and tipped me an upward nod in greeting.
‘Hi!’ I said, and despite having the sign to paint, I found myself lingering. He sipped his drink, eyeing me over the rim of the cup. I noted how thick his lashes were but then shook myself internally, remembering I ought to speak. ‘Did you have a nice lunch break? You didn’t have any customers, I’m afraid, but I would have helped them out if they’d come in. It’s useful having us both here, don’t you think?’
He looked across the vista of my random goods, his expression neutral. ‘Sure.’
He seemed to have nothing else to say, so I fiddled with a basket of nail varnishes for a while and then had to break the silence.
‘Is it always this quiet?’
He raised his eyebrow.
‘I mean customers! Not… you.’
He shrugged. ‘It ebbs and flows. Plus with all the… commotion today, it might have put customers off.’
‘Sorry about that,’ I said, cringing. Of course it would have made his day harder.
He took another drink of his coffee and looked away.
‘I could have made you one of those,’ I said, pointing to his cup. ‘No need to get a takeaway – I do a mean cup of Kenco.’ A tinkle of nervous laughter escaped from me. I was clutching at straws to find things to talk about, and he was making me oddly nervous.
‘Thanks,’ he said with a taut smile. ‘But I like the shop up the road. It’s the only place I can get Sumatra Lintong coffee in the area.’
‘Right. Well… good for you.’ I took a deep breath and left him to it, feeling a little disappointed with our latest awkward exchange. Any girl would dream of having a handsome, brooding hero in her life, but this one was proving to be a bit too brooding. Maybe he was having an off day. Or perhaps, like Christa said, he was a slow burner. I decided to get on with my jobs and give him a bit of space.
I’d spent almost three hours perfecting the neatest writing I could muster, running outside periodically to make sure I wasn’t writing anything back-to-front. Luckily, due to my extremely varied employment history, I’d developed a decent hand for penmanship, mostly through writing chalkboard menus in pubs and restaurants. The overall effect was a slightly vintage-looking script, red with a black outline – a style I hoped would lend the title a kind of edgy, ironic vibe, rather than bargain basement. Everything Must Go . Never had a truer phrase been written. Tomorrow I would be doing as hard a sell as I could manage without physically pressing things into customers’ hands.
I was standing on the pavement as the sky grew dark, admiring my handiwork, when I saw Penn inside. He wandered over to my tables, looking a little more closely. He stood over a pile of romance paperbacks and I was sure I saw him grimace. Fair enough, probably not his thing. Then he wandered to a shelf stocked with salad spinners and that time I definitely saw him pull a face. Finally, he came outside and looked at my sign.
‘Everything Must Go?’ he murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘Manic Street Preachers fan then?’
I stared at him blankly, and he gave me a smug look. ‘It’s not a bad album, but it isn’t their best. I preferred their earlier work.’
Then he went back inside, and I stood there wondering what the hell I’d let myself in for.