Chapter Two
Ava looked around the shop, pleased with what she had achieved.
For a moment, while her creativity had been flowing, as she had been selecting colours, outfits and accessories, she had become completely immersed in what she was doing.
She realised for the first time in a long time that the tension had gone from her shoulders.
Drawing on her creativity to turn something ordinary into something extraordinary relaxed her and gave her a sense of satisfaction, she hadn't felt for too long.
Using coloured umbrellas, painting a different letter on each to spell out the word “sale” had come to her as she lay awake the previous night.
Putting the idea into practice had been trickier than she imagined.
The shape of the umbrellas proved challenging when it came to keeping the letters straight, but taking in the sight of the result, she felt the effort had been worth it.
Now that each umbrella was teamed with colour-matching accessories, hanging from an invisible thread, it gave the effect of a rainbow in the window.
She hoped it would look bright and attractive; a contrast to the grey January days they had been experiencing and a way to draw the attention of passers-by.
Inside the shop, she had carried the theme on with clothes hanging in blocks of colour on the rails.
She’d also put a striking single coloured outfit on each of the two dressmaker style mannequins.
She hoped her vibrant revamp might encourage sales.
‘Wow! You’ve done a great job.’ Mary blustered in through the door, breaking the silence as she put her own sodden umbrella in the bucket by the door and shrugged off her coat, revealing a navy swing dress with needlepoint, pale pink, polka dots.
Her bobbed blonde hair had been curled and sprayed into place in the style of Marilyn Monroe.
‘Oh sod it. I’m so sorry, Mary. I forgot the time, and I haven’t even sorted an outfit yet.’ Ava gathered up the rejected accessories, scissors, bits of thread and other items she had strewn across the floor as she worked.
Mary bent to help. ‘I expected nothing less. That's why I’m half an hour early. I’m here to get you sorted.’ She passed the bits she picked up from the floor into Ava’s hands. ‘Now you go and get cleaned up, and I’ll find you something to wear.’
‘Really?’ Ava smiled and didn't wait for a reply as she hurried through to the back of the shop trying to ignore everything else calling out for her attention.
The display was done; even with that job sorted, one of many she knew she still had to do, Ava felt keener to go out than she had earlier in the day.
With the image of Mary, looking stunning in mind, Ava felt that a quick wash, retouching her make-up and attempting to tame her hair was a bit of a poor effort.
Looking at her dishevelled self in the mirror, she wished she had at least spent a bit of time sourcing what she was going to wear.
Running a charity shop meant there was a host of clothes from across the decades at her disposal, but it also meant there was no guarantee as to precisely what those clothes might be or look like at any given time.
As she began to wonder what on earth she might be heading to the pub in, Mary tapped on the toilet door.
Taking in the sight of the outfit in Mary's hands, Ava smiled.
‘Blimey, you’re good!’
‘I know!’ Mary giggled. ‘Now get those on and let’s get you out of here.’
* * *
Less than thirty minutes later, Ava was dressed, had scraped her hair into a high ponytail and curled her fringe under using her brush and the hand drier in the toilet.
Despite being restricted by their outfits, she and Mary did their best to run across the cobbled street and round the corner to The Brown Dog, avoiding puddles as they went.
Before entering, Ava turned to Mary. ‘You look amazing by the way, and I love the shoes.’
Mary lifted her foot, smiling at her polka dot patterned, four-and-a-half-inch high-heeled sandals. ‘The shoe industry’s gain today — is your shop’s gain, tomorrow. They’re already killing me!’ Mary winked.
Ava laughed as she swung open the door to the pub.
Considering it was a small local pub that relied on the tourist trade in the summer and the revenue from the locals in the winter it was unusually busy.
In contrast to the damp evening outside, the low, beamed ceiling, moderate lighting and large stone fireplace gave it a warm, welcoming feel.
The ale-and-smoke-from-the-open-fire smell, which usually permeated the air was masked by the heady mix of perfume, aftershave and hair products worn by the 1950s clad clientele.
Except for the hardy regulars at the bar, the men had colourful shirts and Brylcreemed hair, while most of the women wore flared skirts teamed with tight blouses, scarves and ankle socks.
Ava and Mary made their way across the flagstone floor to the bar.
Ava spotted Gino at the other end in conversation and laughing with the woman he was serving.
He was in his element behind the busy bar, utilising his good looks and Italian charm on all comers.
Looking at him from behind Ava could tell that his black denim jeans, turned up as a homage to the 1950s, and capped-sleeve-torso-hugging T-shirt, revealed every flex of his toned muscles as he moved.
Pushing away the thought that perhaps Mary was right when she had repeatedly told her that a night with Gino might be just what she needed, Ava reminded herself that taking things further with him would be a mistake.
He wasn’t the type that she usually went for, and they had already moved into the friend zone.
Negotiating their relationship out of it for a night of naked abandonment made no sense. Did it?
Mary nudged Ava out of her Gino evoked daydream as Pauline, the barmaid, approached.
‘Seen something you fancy, ladies?’ Pauline, known locally as The Oracle, smiled and lifted an eyebrow.
Ava hoped the flush she could feel spreading across her cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Pauline would undoubtedly read too much into it and share her thoughts and erroneous opinions around the village. ‘Umm, I—’
Mary giggled. ‘I’ll get the drinks in. Why don't you nab us that table?’ Mary gestured towards a table between the bar and fireplace. It offered a good view of the room without being so near the jukebox they wouldn't be able to hear each other.
Ava settled herself at the table. The heavy curtain that normally separated the extra dining spaces from the bar had been tied back.
The mismatched tables and chairs had been moved, and a makeshift dance floor created in their space.
Gino had clearly gone to a lot of trouble to make the evening a success.
Ava watched those brave enough to take to the dance floor; some looked like they’d been jiving for years.
Their movements were fast and fluid, every step in unison with their partners.
It came as no surprise to her that she didn't recognise most of the faces. For the inhabitants of Dapplebury to be this good at jiving there would have to be a secret dance society meeting up regularly for covert practice, but Dapplebury didn’t have secrets.
It was the type of place where everybody knew everybody else and their business.