Chapter 20
‘I have some news,’ Veronica said after we’d all arrived at Paulette’s house and gathered round the dining table with drinks. ‘Some good news.’
‘We can have the shop?’ Milly asked.
‘We can. Ava and Graeme – her solicitor and former school friend – are now married so I arranged to meet them both. Ava couldn’t face going into another year battling with her sister so they agreed a price and, shortly before Christmas, Ava became the sole owner of the building.
The plan was to reopen the gift shop but Ava’s mother’s about to start chemo so Ava’s putting things on hold to support her.
They loved the idea of a pop-up shop and would be willing to start with a three-month lease and take it from there a month at a time. ’
‘If it does well, we’d probably want to stay open for the Christmas trade,’ Paulette said. ‘Would Ava want to be back in before then?’
‘No. Her plans are on hold for at least a year so Christmas would be fine.’
Christmas? It seemed so far away but it would, of course, be the perfect time of year for sales.
I could already picture my festive patchwork quilts, quilted advent calendars and placemats alongside pyrography Santa stop here!
signs and crocheted Christmas decorations.
Looking at the excited expressions around the table, I suspected I wasn’t the only one drifting into the season of festive crafts.
‘What if it did so brilliantly that you wanted a permanent shop?’ Saffy asked.
‘That might be jumping a little far ahead,’ Paulette said.
‘Perhaps,’ Veronica said, ‘but perhaps not. I think this idea of Saffy’s is wonderful and you never know. Some businesses fly and, with the right branding and marketing, there’s no reason why ours won’t be one of them.’
‘Can I show you something?’ Saffy asked, opening the laptop she’d had in front of her. ‘I know we haven’t talked about names yet so this is just for illustration, but I’ve been tinkering this week.’
She turned the laptop round, eliciting a collective gasp.
Saffy had designed a logo and signage for a shop called Created With Love.
The ‘T’ in ‘Created’ was formed from buttons, the ‘I’ in ‘With’ was a needle and the ‘L’ in ‘Love’ was made from mosaic letters.
The three words were then captured within a heart, the outline of which was made from various crafting materials and equipment.
‘That’s stunning,’ I said, taking it in. ‘That must have taken you ages.’
Saffy shrugged. ‘Not really. I’ve always been quick at drawing.’
‘What do we think of Created With Love as a name?’ Veronica asked. ‘I personally think it’s lovely. Only three words but it says exactly what we do.’
Everyone agreed that Saffy had cracked the name and the logo. She insisted she was happy to ‘take notes’, but nobody had any suggestions. What she’d done was exceptional.
Our takeaway arrived and we tucked in, the conversation dominated by our new business venture.
Veronica, Paulette, Laughlin, Milly and I agreed that we wanted to give Created With Love our best shot and were happy to equally split the up-front rent.
There were so many other decisions to make including the opening hours and how we covered them fairly, bearing in mind Milly worked and Veronica and Paulette both had several diary commitments each week.
‘I don’t mind working more hours,’ I said.
‘I don’t either.’ Laughlin caught my eye and I had a feeling he was thinking the same as me – gratitude at filling the empty days without our spouses.
‘You’ve got Lancelot to look after, though,’ Veronica said.
‘And Yvonne’s got Trevor,’ Saffy said.
I smiled at her. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.’
‘I’ve done some research on how craft collabs like this work,’ Saffy said. ‘The most commonly used model is for the crafter to take a percentage of the asking price and for the shop to take the rest. The rent, overheads and any wages would be paid from the shop’s percentage.’
We fired questions at Saffy and laughed as Veronica raised her hands to silence us.
‘I have a suggestion. Why don’t we take the rest of the week to think carefully about this?
Consider the hours you’d be willing and able to work each week and also think about the crafts you’ve made and the price you’d need for them to cover materials, labour and some profit.
The village hall’s free from noon on a Wednesday so we could have a couple of hours together next week before Cake & Craft Club.
I love this idea and I want to be part of it, but it’s important we do some number crunching first to see if it’s viable. ’
‘That sounds like a good plan.’ Paulette reached for a spring roll and dipped it in a pot of hoisin sauce. ‘Looks like we all have some homework to do.’
Every time we tried to steer the conversation away from Created With Love, somebody threw in an idea and talk focused back on our proposed business.
Yes, we had some work to do and Veronica was absolutely right to ensure we considered the practicalities, but if enthusiasm could have any influence on the success of a business, Created With Love would soar.
After we’d cleared away and moved into the lounge with hot drinks, Saffy’s phone rang.
‘It’s my bestie!’ she announced, her eyes sparkling as she excused herself and rushed upstairs.
‘My goodness, your Saffy’s brimming with talent,’ Veronica said, her voice full of admiration. ‘You must be so proud, Paulette.’
‘I am. She’s always been artistic. I assumed she’d go to art college rather than sixth form and I was surprised when none of her A levels were art-related. I suspect now that it was her mum’s influence and not what Saffy wanted.’
‘What sort of things does she like drawing?’ I asked.
‘Anything and everything. She’s pretty versatile. I don’t think she’s found her preferred style yet.’
‘Is she staying for long?’ Veronica asked. ‘Because, if she is, she might like to consider one of the art classes at the village hall or perhaps an evening class at the art college.’
‘You know who she should speak to?’ Milly said. ‘What’s the name of that illustrator who got a book deal with her fiancé? It was in the paper. They live in Willowdale. His aunt and uncle own The White Willow.’
‘Oh, I know who you mean!’ Paulette said. ‘I think her name’s Autumn.’
Veronica nodded. ‘Autumn Laine. I was having a senior moment then but when you mentioned The White Willow, it fell into place.’
‘I’ll take Saffy to The White Willow for lunch tomorrow and ask Kelly and Aled if they can put her in touch with Autumn,’ Paulette said. ‘It would be great for her to chat to someone who’s made a career from their art.’
‘I wonder how many people end up doing jobs they don’t want to because they were pushed into it by their parents,’ Laughlin said. ‘I wanted to be an artist when I was at school but my dad was a mechanical engineer so three guesses what I became?’
‘A circus clown,’ Milly joked.
‘Brain surgeon,’ Veronica suggested.
‘Stripper,’ Paulette cried.
Laughlin’s eyes widened before he spluttered with laughter and flexed his biceps. ‘Oh, yes! I can see why you’d say that.’
The conversation moved onto how we’d fallen into our careers and the jobs we’d loved or hated.
‘I wouldn’t say I had a career as such,’ I said when it was my turn.
‘I got a job in the typing pool at the council when I left school and I did that for several years until Cliff set up his own business. I then helped run that, making appointments, keeping the books, ordering supplies. I can’t say it was a dream job but it was easy work and home-based so I could do my crafts around it. ’
‘There must have been something you’d have loved to do, though,’ Milly said. ‘Even if it was only one of those fantasy jobs kids have like being a firefighter or driving a train.’
I pondered for a moment and a dream popped into my head that I’d forgotten about long ago.
‘There was something, but it really was the stuff of fantasies. I wanted to be a concert pianist.’
‘You play the piano?’ Veronica asked. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘I haven’t played for years. I had lessons with Cliff’s mum from age ten and I passed grade eight, which is the highest grade you can get without going on to complete a diploma.’
When I was awarded my eighth distinction in a row, I told Mrs Kellerman that I was going to be a concert pianist, expecting her to laugh, but she’d looked at me solemnly and said, ‘You could be if you really wanted to, if you really believed,’ and then she changed the subject and I wondered if I’d imagined that she – the woman who barely ever praised, only sporadically muttering a nondescript good or well done – had given me the most enormous compliment.
‘Grade eight?’ Laughlin’s eyes widened. ‘You must be exceptionally talented. Noreen used to play. She made it to grade six and attempted seven a couple of times before giving up on the exams. She said it took considerable dedication and talent to get all the way through.’
‘Why don’t you play anymore?’ Milly asked.
My heart was pounding. What had possessed me to share that particular childhood dream?
Of course it was going to lead to questions.
Why couldn’t I have said something generic like wanting to be a nurse or a teacher?
Everyone would have accepted that and moved on.
I was ready to talk to them – but not as a group.
When I shared my story, it needed to be one at a time, probably starting with Paulette or Milly. An audience was far too intimidating.
Everyone’s eyes were on me and I shuffled in my chair. ‘Erm, I just… Life, you know. I got married, Cliff set up his business, we moved house, and there never seemed to be enough hours in the day.’
Paulette caught my eye and gave me an almost imperceptible nod. Nobody else seemed to have picked up on my discomfort but I knew she had.
‘Did I ever tell you all that I used to play the violin?’ she asked, addressing the group. ‘I use the word play loosely. Bet my parents wished there weren’t enough hours in the day for me to play it.’
‘Were you bad?’ Milly asked.
‘Bad would have been a compliment. I was dire. No musical ability whatsoever. I sent cats fleeing, made dogs howl, made small children cry as their ears bled…’
Everyone laughed as Paulette continued her tale of musical incompetence.
She caught my eye once more and I gave her a grateful smile.
For the first time ever, I felt as though I had somebody in my life who I could talk to about why I didn’t play the piano anymore and I wanted to tell her sooner rather than later.
Hopefully an opportunity would present itself.
Saffy rejoined us shortly after and, from her big smile, it had clearly done her good to catch up with her best friend.
The conversation was still about music and Milly had surprised us by sharing that she was one of the few kids at primary school who’d been able to make the recorder sound pleasant.
She’d graduated to a larger tenor recorder and she still played it most days to give her a break from her editing.
‘Saffy can play the guitar,’ Paulette declared, pride obvious in her voice, ‘and she’s got a beautiful singing voice. She was in a band at school and college.’
When we discovered Saffy had her guitar with her, we were eager to hear her play and sing, and she treated us to an impromptu concert which culminated in us all singing along to ‘Hey Jude’.
Driving home at the end of the evening, I couldn’t stop smiling.
A year ago, I’d never have imagined a scenario where I spent an evening with a room full of people discussing going into business together and singing to The Beatles.
When I’d written living in my journal as one of the things I wanted to start doing, I hadn’t been sure what that might look like. This was it! I was doing it right now!