Chapter 5
FIVE
It was five minutes past ten on opening day and I stood there, hopefully, watching the door. I’d arrived early to double-check everything was in its place. I’d barely slept the night before, partly through nervous excitement, but mostly because Neo seemed to be taking part in some kind of online gaming event that went on into the early hours. Every now and then, I would hear a triumphant whoop or occasionally a shout of something like, ‘For fuck’s sake, Aragorn, get your head in the game. Think of the guild!’
Penn wasn’t in yet, but there were a couple of people outside, looking in at his side of the shop through the window. I smiled at them, wondering if they might be interested in any of my stuff, but they looked away. Then, across the street, I saw a man leaning against a lamp post, his arms crossed over his chest. He was broad and muscly with a shaved head, and was staring intently at the shop. His expression was stony, so I didn’t think he was weighing up a potential purchase. After a minute, he put his hands in his pockets and walked away down the street.
The door jingled, and Penn walked in.
‘Morning!’ I said with a wide smile. Even though he hadn’t given me the warmest of welcomes yesterday, I was still determined to break the ice. And despite my reservations about our compatibility, he’d disarmed me again by looking… well, to quote my mother, ‘tasty’. ‘How are you today?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘You?’ He quickly looked me up and down. I was wearing dungarees and a red-and-pink striped top, at odds with what seemed to be his signature look of black from head to toe.
‘I’m great. Very excited actually. The grand opening of Everything Must Go!’ I waved my hands by my shoulders in an approximation of Wallace and Gromit then snatched them down to my sides. He was making me nervous again.
‘Congratulations,’ he said with a slow smile. Then the two browsers who had been lurking outside came into the shop and approached him. It seemed our friendly fresh start was over for now.
I made myself a cup of tea, rearranged the baskets of bronzers and toenail clippers on my cash desk, and checked my phone for messages. There was a text from Mam wishing me luck for my first day, and I was reminded of how important it was that I made this a success. Then the door jingled and someone came in.
It was an older woman, maybe in her seventies, wearing a beige overcoat and a bobble hat. This could be my very first customer.
‘Hi! Welcome to Everything Must Go! Take a look around and let me know if you need any help.’
She gave me a funny look and went over to Penn’s side of the shop.
‘Excuse me, son. Have you anything by Crosby, Stills and an ideal opportunity to nip this conversational time-bomb in the bud. Without a backwards glance at Penn, I put my ‘Closed for lunch’ sign on the desk, grabbed my coat and stormed out.
Christa’s shop, Sacred Aura, was shadowy, lit with dim orange lights that made it strangely inviting. I walked in to find her extinguishing a set of ivory pillar candles. The room was like a treasure trove: baskets of crystals in all kinds of colours, slender boxes of incense sticks on the shelves, dreamcatchers hanging from the ceiling. There was a small window which had a curtain pulled over it, embroidered with astrological symbols.
‘So, how was your first morning?’ she asked, coming from behind her counter.
I pulled a face.
‘Don’t worry. It can take time for things to pick up. Listen, I’m about to go for lunch – do you want to come with?’
I nodded, and she pulled on her evil-eye coat before leading me up the road to a little cafe. We sat down and ordered, and the coffee menu caught my eye – it listed a variety of fancy coffees, and I guessed this must be where Penn had got his achingly hip brew.
‘I don’t think we’re going to get on.’ Christa’s eyebrows raised. ‘Not you and me. Me and Penn. He’s… rude.’
‘He does seem like a tough nut to crack. Every time I see him, all I can get out of him is a “good morning” or “goodnight”.’
‘It’s not just that. He is quiet, but he seems a bit snooty too. He’s a music snob, a coffee snob and gives me the impression he thinks I’m a complete philistine.’
Our drinks arrived, and she took a sip of her green tea. ‘Then he’s an idiot. I’ve met that type before; the ones who claim they only liked a band before they got famous.’
‘That’s pretty much exactly what he said to me yesterday. How am I going to cope with spending the next few weeks, if not months, with him?’
‘Maybe he’ll give up before you do.’
‘More likely he’ll sell out of stock. He’s doing a roaring trade while I’m sat there twiddling my thumbs.’
‘Okay, well, have you thought about making your shop more visible online? Try to draw some customers in? It’s only your first day, so you need to let people know you’re here.’
‘I do have a Facebook page and an Instagram account.’ I’d hastily set these up in the run-up to opening. I showed them to Christa.
She winced. ‘Give them here. You need to change your settings, lovely. You’ve got your Facebook set to private, and you’ve left the shop address off your Insta.’ She scrolled and tapped, her silver rings clicking against the edges of the screen. ‘Plus, you need to add more content. A photo of a box of squeegee mops isn’t going to cut it.’
I watched as she transformed my social media pages, following some accounts that aligned with my business. Within minutes, I’d gathered a small handful of likes and follows in return. ‘How do you know about all of this stuff?’
She grinned. ‘I don’t just rely on manifesting to generate business, you know.’
Our roast vegetable paninis arrived, and we munched quietly for a while.
‘So, tell me a bit about yourself,’ she said, wiping tomato juice off the side of her mouth.
‘Um, there’s not a lot to tell. I live with the world’s biggest Star Wars fan. I grew up in Haysworth. No brothers or sisters, and I’ve had more jobs than you can shake a stick at.’
‘Haysworth? I had some friends that went to Haysworth Manor.’
‘Yeah, I went there too.’ I didn’t remember school all that fondly. ‘Feels like a long time ago. How about you – where did you go?’
‘Northfields.’
‘Ooh, posh.’
She shrugged. ‘I didn’t really fit in. Most of the girls in my class were more interested in make-up and boys than making the world a better place.’
‘And that’s what you wanted to do?’
‘Yep. They thought I was weird – being vegan back then wasn’t exactly mainstream, and they weren’t keen on my sense of style.’ She gestured to her outfit – a flowing skirt and a jumper of coarse wool. ‘I haven’t changed much. Then, when I started putting up posters about their favourite make-up having been tested on animals, that seemed to be the last straw. I just went it alone after that.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘Don’t be. Fuck ’em. I’d rather stand up for my principles than try to impress them.’
‘Amen, sister,’ I said, clinking teacups with her. ‘I’m pretty into that stuff too. I went veggie ten years ago, and I try to donate to wildlife charities. When I can afford it.’
‘I think we’re kindred spirits then,’ she said, smiling.
Just then, movement outside the cafe window caught my eye. The guy who I’d seen over the road that morning, the one with the shaved head, had his hands pressed up to the window like binoculars, looking through them directly at me and Christa. We locked eyes, and he marched to the door and came in.
‘Neil?’ Christa said in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’
He stood by the table and looked down at me.
‘I just wanted to say hello. Meet the new tenant.’
I looked from Neil to Christa, puzzled.
‘I used to have your shop, until Mike threw me out.’
‘He… he said that you moved on, that your swimwear was out of season.’ As I said it, it seemed a very odd choice of merchandise for this man to be selling – I would have expected a bubbly, tanned woman.
He gave a nasty laugh. ‘Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? It doesn’t look good to a new tenant, hearing that he’ll throw you out on your ear without warning. As it happens, I was about to start stocking winter stuff – ski gear, puffa jackets and that. But I never got the chance.’
‘Neil, I would imagine he had a good reason…’ interjected Christa.
‘He didn’t. No good reason at all. He’s just a nasty bastard – I came in to tell you so. You need to watch your back with Mike. Don’t say you weren’t warned.’
With that, he hulked out of the cafe, his fists balled up tightly.
‘What the hell just happened?’ I asked Christa, my heart racing.
‘Idiot,’ she said, staring after him through the window. ‘Let’s just say that Penn isn’t the first dickhead to rent that shop.’
‘What happened? Why did Mike kick him out?’
‘He never said. But I know Mike, and I know he wouldn’t do anything like that unless he had to. I never did get on with Neil either – he was always full of shit.’
I shook my shoulders, trying to expel the adrenaline. Even a restorative slug of tea didn’t take the edge off the uneasy feeling that Neil had left in his wake.
That afternoon, I took my place behind the counter once more. Penn had nodded hello, but I didn’t have the energy to try and engage him in conversation again, an arrangement he seemed quite happy with too. He carried on rearranging his stock while I pretended to be busy folding tea towels.
Eventually, I had no more products to rearrange, and the silence was getting uncomfortable, so I distracted myself by continuing my latest knitting project. Penn glanced at me inquisitively as my needles clicked together and I turned the yarn into the final limb of a small purple octopus. I cast off and set it on my desk, giving it a fond pat on the head.
The door jingled open, and a tall blonde woman with exquisite skin, wearing a long-sleeved, maroon body-con dress, came into the shop.
‘Hiii!’ she said, slinking through the doorway, giving us both a wide smile. I sat up straighter, thoroughly fed up with my lack of sales and Penn’s monopoly on the customers, then jumped down off my chair.
‘Hi!’ I replied. ‘Welcome to Everything Must Go. How can I help?’
She cocked her head to one side and pouted. ‘Oh, bless you, darling. I’m not here to buy; I’m from the shop next door. I just wanted to pop in and say hello.’
I saw Penn smirk, and my face flamed.
‘I had the pleasure of meeting your lovely Penn earlier this week, so I thought I’d drop in and introduce myself to you as well. I’m Melissa Armitage. I own Visage Unique next door.’
She held out her manicured hand, and I shook it. Her lightly lined hand suggested that she wasn’t quite as young as I’d initially thought, and I realised she was more likely in her mid to late forties. She looked incredible.
‘Annie Wilson. Nice to meet you. And sorry about that,’ I said, gesturing vaguely at myself as evidence of my own gaffe.
‘Don’t you worry,’ she said warmly. ‘Now, how is it all going?’
‘Brilliant, thank you. Off to a great start.’
Penn coughed theatrically, and I glared at him.
‘Marvellous. I’m so glad to hear it. We’re a supportive bunch here, so if you ever need anything, do shout up. Now, I had another reason for dropping by. I’m having a little drinky-poos after close of play this evening. Just casual,’ she said, giving my outfit a subtle once-over. ‘You’re very welcome to come. Both of you.’
Penn nodded but said nothing, and Melissa’s smile faltered. God, he was so bloody rude. I wasn’t going to let him show the both of us up, so I said, ‘That sounds lovely. I’ll be there!’
‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘No need to bring anything – I’ve got Prosecco and nibbles all ready to go. See you later, darling.’ And she walked out, elegant and poised on six-inch heels.
Penn rolled his eyes and resumed thumbing through his vinyl.
I stood against my desk, arms crossed over my front, brewing a feeling of indignation on Melissa’s behalf.
‘Is everything alright with you and Melissa?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
He shrugged. ‘Yeah.’
‘I’m guessing you won’t be going tonight though.’
Putting down a record, he looked at me for a long moment. ‘I’m not sure it’s my kind of thing. Besides… I don’t really know anyone.’
He said this in a lazy, nonchalant way, rather than self-pitying. I opened my mouth to tell him there was a good reason he didn’t know anyone but was stopped in my tracks by the door opening again. A couple came in, cheeks pink from the cold outside, and started browsing around my shelves. My gloomy mood lifted a little. This could be it – my first sale was within my grasp.
I took a step forward to start showing off some of my products, but Penn caught my eye. He gave a subtle shake of his head.
I stopped, my jaw clenched. He really thought he knew it all, didn’t he?
I took another small step and then paused again. The couple were holding up a set of steak knives, discussing replacing the ones in their kitchen. The debacle that morning came into my mind, reminding me how I’d scared off that woman with my perky sales pitch. I glanced quickly at Penn again, my lips clamped between my front teeth.
Taking a breath, I slowly, reluctantly went to sit behind the counter then watched surreptitiously as the couple held on to the steak knives and then also picked up a pair of bento boxes. As they made their way to the cash desk, the woman’s eye was caught by the display of bodice-ripper novels. She picked up three. All of these were placed on the counter, and I rang them up, exchanging their bag of purchases for two crisp twenty-pound notes. I stared at the money, transfixed by it. I’d done it – I’d made my first sale. If I didn’t need the cash so much, I might have framed it.
I looked up to find Penn staring at me, his expression unreadable. For just a moment, I was drawn in to his dark eyes, as if he’d hypnotised me just a little. But then he flashed a smug smile that reeked of ‘I told you so’.
He really was an insufferable prick.