Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
ONE YEAR LATER
‘I wanted to put a ribbon across the door, but Penn wouldn’t let me,’ I said, crossing my arms. ‘I think it would have been fun.’
‘I think so too,’ said Mam. ‘Although I might have known buggerlugs wouldn’t agree to it.’
Penn put an arm around her shoulders and grinned. ‘I already said yes to the balloon arch in the lobby, Denise. The ribbon was a step too far. Besides, who would have cut it?’
‘Well, we do have a lord and lady here,’ said Dad, nudging Hugh with his elbow.
Bunny rolled her eyes. ‘When are you going to give up with that nonsense, Keith? I think we’ve had enough kitchen suppers to dispense with “Your Lordship” jokes.’
The six of us stood in front of the Northern Centre for Music wrapped in coats and scarves. There was a gentle flurry of snow falling around us and onto the roof of the building, a modern glass-fronted rectangle that somehow still fitted into the Northumberland landscape beyond. Inside, warm orange light burned from hanging lamps, and people buzzed around with champagne flutes admiring the local artworks that Penn had commissioned.
‘Who’d have thought, eh, Den?’ Dad removed Mam from under Penn’s arm and slid his own around her. ‘This time last year…’
I smiled, watching them. This time last year indeed.
After we’d dealt with Melissa, things had moved fast – Dad had shaken hands with Nathaniel faster than you could say ‘load-bearing wall’, and once the architect had designed the building, Dad had assembled his team and got to work. The upfront capital from Nat had bolstered Mam and Dad’s finances enough to take the house off the market, and a new guitar or two had appeared in my dad’s collection.
They’d made fast friends with Bunny and Hugh too, although they thoroughly enjoyed winding each other up. For Christmas, Bunny gave Dad a copy of Debrett’s Guide to Etiquette and Modern Manners , and he gave her a Wickes catalogue, promising to buy her a power tool of her choice. They’d all enjoyed the traditional freezing-cold wild swim, while Penn and I watched from the boathouse, drinking hot chocolates and laughing at my dad turning the air bluer than his skin with expletives.
I squeezed Penn’s arm when we walked inside the music centre. So much had changed since last Christmas, and yet many things stayed the same. Penn still gigged in Newcastle with the lads, but instead of him living in their flat, he now lived in a Quayside apartment… with me. And although I’d moved out of Neo’s place, I’d been surprised that I missed him. So much so that I’d introduced him to Mike, and he now inhabited Jake’s old unit at the back of Palmer’s Arcade, selling movie memorabilia and telling customers how little they knew about Scorsese films. He still did a roaring trade.
The arcade hadn’t gone under after all. Mike had mysteriously come into a sum of money, and I suspected it was something to do with his knowledge of what had gone down with Melissa, and his decision not to involve the police.
We walked around the lobby, stopping every now and then for Penn to shake hands with the guests. There was a huge amount of excitement about the new venture, and it was already overwhelmed with bookings, events and educators offering their services. Penn already had a long list of students wanting to learn guitar with him.
As I left Penn to it, I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and thought about the special event I’d hosted at Everything Must Go. It seemed a very long time ago. Looking at the elegant fixtures and tasteful party decorations here (including Mam’s balloon arch, which I loved), I felt a pang of sentimentality about my little shop. It was still weird seeing someone else through the window, selling vintage clothing instead of my random collection of products. But now that Arthur and Sven had gone to Sweden, and Christa and Jake were somewhere in Polynesia, the place wasn’t the same to me anyway.
There was a clatter of heels behind me, and Sophia rushed up with a bottle of champagne in hand. She slopped some into my half-empty glass and gave me a wicked grin.
‘Don’t tell anyone, but this is stuff from Daddy’s cellar. Only the best for us, darling.’
We clinked glasses. ‘If only my dad’s cellar was brimming with champagne instead of bags of cement,’ I said.
‘Oh, there’s time yet. I hear he’s been signed up to work on the new rugby ground off the back of this.’
I nodded. I was so proud of my dad, and Mam too. She’d become part of Dad’s business, making sure bills were paid on time, and woe betide anyone who didn’t pony up.
‘Now, I had an idea for launching the new range,’ said Sophia, trailing a hand through the air theatrically. ‘What if we hire some male models to hand out canapés wearing the jock straps and thongs? I think it would be marvellous, and if we pose a few of them by the window, we might bring in some passers-by?’
‘Soph, we’re running a high-end erotic boutique, not the red-light district in Amsterdam. Let’s keep it classy.’
She pouted. ‘But they’re so gorgeous. I looked on the website, and there’s one with the most amazing green eyes…’
‘No!’ I said, laughing. ‘We want people lusting after the hand-stitched underwear and state-of-the-art sexual aids, not being distracted by other, er… packages.’
She laughed like a drain. ‘God, Annie, you crack me up. But fair enough. Newcastle’s exclusive rights-holders to Liaison Secrète have standards to uphold. Now, speaking of packages, I’ve got to dash. We’ve a delivery coming, and Olivia will need a hand sorting it out. Ciao, bébé .’ She kissed me on the cheek and pressed the vintage champagne bottle into my hand before buzzing away.
After Melissa had stayed true to her word and vacated Visage Unique immediately, I’d started to eye up her building. It was larger, more conspicuous and, dare I say it, more sophisticated than my shop at the arcade. After I’d mentioned my idle thoughts to Penn, he and Sophia had come up with the idea of her investing and going into business with me. She was even able to use her contacts to secure us a meeting with Liaison Secrète in Paris and shake hands on an exclusivity deal. So Maison Jean-Luc, Newcastle’s largest, most tasteful adult lifestyle product boutique was born.
We’d never seen Melissa again, hearing through the grapevine that she’d sold her house and moved away. But Olivia remained, distraught at the harm she’d caused, and after a while, and many tearful apologies, we’d taken her on to work in the shop. She was a hard worker, excellent with customers and had nothing good to say about her mother.
I was just about to go and rescue a stricken-looking Bunny from one of Dad’s building crew, who looked to be telling her a very filthy joke, when Penn walked up.
‘Come on,’ he said, taking my arm. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’ He led me towards the back of the building, nodding to our parents to follow along, and we turned a corner to face the bar area of the music centre.
Above the door, a space which had previously remained empty now had a sign reading ‘Uncle Al’s’.
I squealed and hugged him. ‘Penn, this is perfect. He was such an inspiration to you.’
Hugh came to stand beside him, his eyes growing a little damp.
‘Well done, m’boy,’ he said after a shaky cough. ‘He was always very proud of you.’
‘And we are too,’ said Bunny, patting Penn’s arm.
Penn studied both of them, and I could see a look in his eyes that I knew was his heart growing fuller. He looked at me like that – often.
‘There’s something else,’ he said, leading the way to the door, and he paused there. ‘You all kept asking me what I was going to spend the Pink Floyd money on. It’s taken me a long time to think of something that would be really important to me.’
Mam gasped. ‘It’s an engagement ring, isn’t it? Annie…!’ She bounced on the spot, tapping her hand on her chest.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Denise,’ said Bunny sharply.
A shocked silence fell across the group, and we all looked at her, open-mouthed. She returned the look with a steely gaze.
‘Of course he hasn’t spent his money on an engagement ring. It’s tradition in our family to hand down their grandmothers’ rings. Bertie had the first, and Peregrine will have the second. And I’m very much looking forward to seeing it on Annie’s finger one day.’ She smiled at me warmly, and then it was my turn to feel dewy-eyed.
‘So, what have you spent it on, kidda?’ asked Dad.
‘Come and see,’ said Penn, and we all followed him into the room. It was dimly lit and painted in forest green; leather armchairs were dotted around by the polished walnut bar. Immediately I noticed something new. A classic 1950s jukebox stood in between the windows, its lights glowing.
I went over and ran my hands over the glossy surface. ‘It’s beautiful. I’m sure Uncle Al would love it.’
‘He really would,’ agreed Penn. ‘Now, let’s test it out.’
He tapped a few buttons, and the first few bars of a very familiar song came from the speakers.
‘Very clever,’ I said, laughing as he pulled me into his arms to dance. ‘But I thought you preferred the Manic Street Preachers’ earlier work?’
‘Everything Must Go’ was a difficult song to slow dance to, but somehow the last year had taught us that it didn’t matter what the steps were – as long as we danced them together, we’d do just fine.
* * *
If you fell head over heels for Annie and Penn, you’ll love Lily Joseph’s The Near Miss , a totally swoon-worthy, feel-good romcom of fated lovers and chance encounters. Nick and Wren are meant to be, even though they’ve never met. But every time they almost cross paths something gets in the way of sparks flying. Will they take a chance on love?