The Little Unicorn Gift Shop: A heartwarming romance with a bit of sparkle in 2018!
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop: A heartwarming romance with a bit of sparkle in 2018!
Kellie Hailes
Life’s always better with a little bit of sparkle.Poppy and Ben have been best friends forever and now they’re embarking on a new adventure together – opening a joint unicorn gift shop and cafe. Ben has one rule; no unicorn paraphernalia is to cross into his tea shop. But Poppy has other ideas…They’ve always been there for each other, at least until Poppy went travelling around the world – without Ben. But now she’s back and she’s determined to stay put, bringing a little bit of magic back into Ben’s life.Can they go back to the way things once were or will the years of distance stand in the way of their new shop and blossoming romance?Readers love Kellie Hailes:‘a feel-good read powered by the magic of unicorns’‘'The Little Unicorn Gift Shop' is the perfect antidote to a rainy day.’‘I cannot recommend this book enough, I want to read it all over again - utterly divine!’‘a delightful, warm, tender and fun contemporary novel’‘a heart-warming read’
About the Author (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
KELLIE HAILES declared at the age of five that she was going write books when she grew up. It took a while for her to get there, with a career as a radio copywriter, freelance copywriter and web writer filling the dream-hole, until now. Kellie lives on an island-that’s-not-really-an-island in New Zealand with her patient husband, funny little human and neurotic cat. When the characters in her head aren’t dictating their story to her, she can be found taking short walks, eating good cheese and jonesing for her next coffee fix.
Also by Kellie Hailes (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises
The Big Little Festival
Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop
KELLIE HAILES
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Kellie Hailes 2018
Kellie Hailes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © August 2018 ISBN: 9780008301729
Version: 2018-07-13
Table of Contents
Cover (#u6919f228-bedd-5aab-a2b7-3147dfd11075)
About the Author (#u4a570c08-d1d1-590d-98f6-0e80043c5bde)
Also by Kellie Hailes (#u3f08921a-21a4-58af-9885-20a326e1bb40)
Title Page (#ub1719325-7b3f-5503-8251-7522a8c7e499)
Copyright (#uf3ddf885-b492-5842-b7f7-be77da227711)
Dedication (#u654fc7a7-1aea-5f69-bed1-a0f87e8af215)
Chapter 1 (#u57f5fc92-f74b-50ef-9f64-defb51fd29a3)
Chapter 2 (#uc5210ed5-fe30-5cfd-a78b-c31a121c3be5)
Chapter 3 (#u00cb6d08-d6c4-5697-abe0-9a39ccf58401)
Chapter 4 (#u919ffaaa-9d57-5769-b29e-2e5d5ca42d4f)
Chapter 5 (#ue08338dc-bab2-51ec-a666-c2b9adca65fd)
Chapter 6 (#ucda23815-31f0-5094-8892-17f06523bd5a)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Read on for a Sneak Peek at Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises… (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
For ‘The Manor Girls’. Friends, forever.
Chapter 1 (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
An ear-piercing trilling ripped Ben from the soundest sleep he’d had in weeks. His hand blindly scrambled round his bedside table, searching for his phone. Who could be calling at this time of night? He’d collapsed into bed just after midnight, so he knew it had to be late. He peeled open one eye. It was nowhere-near-dawn kind of late if the pitch-blackness in his room was anything to go by. Finding the phone, he squinted against the glare of the screen to see who would be so rude as to ring at such an ungodly hour.
His heart, already thumping from the shock of being yanked out of his sleep, ratcheted up to a worrying state.
Poppy.
Apprehension settled heavy in his stomach. If she was calling at this time of night it couldn’t be for any good reason.
He peered at the screen. Not a phone call, a video call. Well, that ruled out her being in prison, at least. He was pretty sure they still only allowed voice calls.
He glanced at the time. Just gone three. Which made it the afternoon, maybe, if she was still in New Zealand. Though knowing Poppy, she could have tired of the place and moved on to South America, where no doubt she’d be in a jungle hugging a tree in protest of it and its foliage-filled friends being cut down.
He swiped across and watched the internet decide whether it was going to connect him to her or not. A creased forehead and impatient stare gave him his answer.
‘Ben? You there? Ben? Can you hear me?’
Ben clicked the sound down and reminded himself to mute his phone before he went to sleep from now on. ‘I hear you, Poppy.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘Where are you? Are you okay? Are you in trouble? Do you need bail money?’
‘Of course I’m okay.’ Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not a teenager, Ben. You don’t have to keep me from getting into trouble anymore. Not that you could’ve if you wanted to. And bail money? Really? I’ve never been in that kind of trouble. God, dramatic much?’
‘Fair enough. Sorry, Pops, but when I get a call in the middle of the night I fear the worst.’ Ben folded his pillow in half and elbowed his way into a half-sitting position.
‘Fine. Whatever. And turn on your light. It’s weird talking to the black hole of Ben.’
‘Sorry. Forgot you couldn’t see me.’ Ben switched the phone to his other hand, then leaned over and flicked on the bedside lamp. Its golden glow illuminated the small space around him.
‘Geez, Ben, what’ve you been doing?’ Poppy’s hand covered her eyes, her fingers splitting apart to peek through at him. ‘Do you even work these days? Or do you spend all your waking hours at the gym?’
‘Huh?’ Ben peered at the square on the phone to see what Poppy was seeing. ‘Oh, God, sorry, Pops.’ He pulled the sheet up to his armpits. ‘There, all decent.’
Poppy’s hand fell down, a wide grin lifting her cheekbones high as strands of her black hair blew in front of her face. ‘Ugh, blimmin’ wind. It’s so cold I’m amazed my lips haven’t frozen together. I’ll be glad to come home to a bit of warmth.’
Ben straightened up in bed. Had he heard what he thought he’d heard? ‘Come home? What are you on about?’
‘Well, I’ve been travelling for over a decade now. It’s time I returned. I mean, look at this place. It’s freezing. My plane ticket’s all booked.’ She switched the phone’s camera around and moved it slowly, showing him a snow-covered mountain range that sloped down to a tumultuous grey-green sea, its waves crashing onto a beach smothered in time-smoothed stones.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Ben observed. ‘And it gets freezing here too, remember?’
The camera switched back to Poppy. ‘Yeah, but here is not home, and it’s time.’
‘And why are you telling me this, Poppy?’ Ben yawned, not bothering to hide his tiredness. He had a busy day at the office ahead of him tying up loose ends, and he had to make sure his finances were in order for when he viewed the shop he hoped to lease in three days’ time. ‘More importantly, can you make it quick? It’s beyond the middle of the night and I’ve got to get some sleep if I’m going to function like a human being tomorrow.’
‘Fine, fine, Mr Busy Pants.’ Poppy grinned. ‘I just need you to do me a favour and pick me up from Heathrow. I’ll send you through the details.’ She flapped a hand in his direction. ‘Now go back to sleep. Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.’ She blew a kiss and wiggled her fingers in goodbye, before signing off, leaving Ben staring at a Poppy-less screen.
Poppy Taylor was coming home.
An email alert popped up on his screen. He opened it and scanned the contents.
Not only was Poppy Taylor coming home, she was having him pick her up on the day he was meeting with his potential landlord. He worked out the time it would take to drive from Heathrow to Muswell Hill. He could do it. Just. Assuming traffic wasn’t awful.
You could just say no…
He untucked his pillow and settled back into bed. As if no was an option. No was never an option where Poppy was concerned. Even after all these years.
Chapter 2 (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
‘Excuse me.’ Poppy dodged and ducked her way through the throng of people squealing, hugging and, sometimes, crying into each other’s arms as family, friends and lovers arrived from their various destinations. Every few seconds she went on tiptoe to search the crowd waiting at arrivals for a familiar face. Not just a familiar face, a friendly one. ‘Where is he?’ she wondered aloud, as she hefted her bulging backpack a little higher to stop the waist belt further cutting into her hips.
‘Poppy?’
She spun round and found herself gazing into warm brown eyes. The very same pair that had greeted her when she’d poked her head through the hedge that had bordered their properties when they were four years old.
‘Ben.’ She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. The muscles she’d briefly viewed during their video call were no figment of her imagination. Ben was toned. ‘Now tell me…’ She pulled back and squeezed his biceps. ‘Where did these come from?’
Ben shrugged, a faint glow rising on his cheeks. ‘I swim at the gym every morning. Then do weights if I feel like it.’
‘All that on top of being a fancy pants lawyer?’ Poppy threaded her arm through Ben’s and let him lead her through the crowds. ‘Do you ever sleep?’
‘I do. When I’m not being woken in the middle of the night.’ He nudged her with his elbow. ‘Now can we up the pace? I’ve got a business meeting I have to get to.’
‘All work and no play makes Ben a—’
‘Makes Ben a late boy. And I can’t be. I’m opening a business. Well, I’m planning to. But I need to secure the premises first, and I think I’ve found the perfect spot.’
Poppy quickened her step as Ben pulled her through the busy airport, ducking out of the way of the dawdling travellers. ‘Business? What kind of business? And how do you plan on running a business when you’ve a day job and apparently one hot bod to maintain?’
Ben’s cheeks lost their blush as he propelled her to the carpark and towards a sleek, black Audi. ‘This is me.’ He opened the door for her, then strode to his side of the car and got in. ‘And I won’t be doing both jobs. I’m leaving law.’
‘You say that like it’s the end of the world.’ Poppy ran her hands over the seat’s buttery leather. Ben was leaving a job that had bought him this to set up a shop? And it sounded as though the thought of it was making him sick. Or perhaps it was the risk? Taking risks wasn’t Ben’s way. He’d always been the solid, dependable one. The one who made his parents proud… Ah. The green tinge to his skin suddenly made sense. Ben’s father was a lawyer. Ben had done as expected and followed his father into law. Leaving it couldn’t have been easy on Ben. And she’d have bet all of the worldly goods she owned, all that were tucked into the backpack Ben had placed into the boot of the car, that his father wouldn’t be making his defection easy on him.
‘Buckled up?’ Ben started the engine and focused on the backup mirror’s camera as he reversed out of the park.
Poppy relaxed into the seat and took a moment to inspect her old friend. Twelve years had changed him, and yet he was the same. Fine lines framing the outer corners of his eyes crinkled as he focused on the road. Time had seen the soft curves of his jawline and cheeks evaporate into sharp lengths. Yet, as always, his chin and cheeks were bare of stubble. Still, there was no denying Ben’s boyish good looks were there, albeit more… manly. Stronger. Defined. The kind that probably had women’s knees going a little – or a lot – wobbly when he walked past. Poppy patted her knees. Solid as two knobbly rocks. Ben may have been good to look at – better than good – but he was the serious, settling down type. And she wasn’t. Which made her interest in Ben strictly platonic.
‘Could you stop staring?’ The corners of his lips lifted up into a smile. ‘I feel like a bug under a microscope.’
Ben’s eyes flicked in her direction, then refocused on the road. Yep, between that smile and those eyes, and the rest of the Ben-shaped package, Poppy suspected Ben had more than his share of admirers.
‘Sorry, Ben the Bug, can’t help it. It’s been ages.’ Poppy stretched her legs, and circled her neck backwards then forwards to release the tension of being cooped up in a metal bird for so many hours. ‘You don’t do social media so I can’t stalk photos of you, and you haven’t picked up a video call from me in longer than I can remember, so I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time in forever.’
‘I didn’t pick up your calls because you call during work hours.’
‘I figured that, eventually. That’s why I called in the middle of the night. I knew you’d have to answer.’ Poppy unzipped her carry-on bag, found a tube of lip balm and applied it, smacking her lips together in satisfaction. She may have had years away from Ben, with minimal contact, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know him.
‘I could have had my phone turned off. Or on silent.’
Poppy grinned at his churlish tone. ‘Not the Ben I know. He’s far too responsible. If your parents needed you, or if work was to have some kind of emergency, I knew you’d need to be on hand to deal with it.’
‘Wow, you make me sound boring… and in need of a life.’ A frown sent lines sprawling across Ben’s forehead.
‘Don’t get all upset about it, Ben. I’m not saying you’re boring, or in need of a life. I just knew you’d answer, that’s all.’ Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her hands into her armpits. Since when had Ben become so touchy?
‘No, it’s not you. It’s the time. It’s later than I thought. And this driver in front of me is going at a snail’s pace.’ The car surged forward as Ben stepped on the accelerator and manoeuvred into the next lane.
Poppy released her hands and gripped onto the edges of the seat. ‘Steady on, Ben. No need to speed.’
‘I’m not.’ He flapped his hand at the speedometer. ‘There’s no way I’m going to get pulled over and make myself even later.’ He ran his hand through his short, sandy brown hair. The same cut he’d always had. Shorter on the sides, with a little length up top. ‘No, it’ll be fine. It has to be.’
‘Do you want me to call the landlord for you? Explain you’ll be late?’ Poppy held out her hand. ‘My phone’s dead. Give me yours.’
‘No, not a good idea. That’ll make me look like I’m unreliable. He might think I’ll be late with payments. I was hoping to have time to pop home and grab a fresh shirt, but I’ll just have to make do with the one I keep spare in the back. It’s not the exact right shade to go with the tie or jacket, but it’ll do. It’ll have to.’
Poppy bit a laugh back, sensing that giggling at Ben’s super-serious suit dilemma when he was this stressed would only inflame the situation.
‘And you’ll have to wait in the car before I drop you… wait, where am I dropping you?’ Ben’s eyebrow cocked as he glanced at her. ‘You never said. Are you staying at your mum’s house?’
Poppy’s stomach shrivelled. She took a deep breath as the unappetising meal of frittata and fruit salad they’d been served on the plane threatened to deboard. Stay with her mother? Not if she could help it. The plan was to keep her distance as long as possible. Why invite pain back into her life when she’d spent twelve years trying to keep it out? She waved the suggestion away. ‘No, not Mum’s. I’ve found a studio in Muswell Hill. And waiting is fine. I’ve nowhere to be. I’ll just work on my plans while you have your meeting.’
‘Plans? Since when has Poppy Taylor planned anything? You didn’t even plan leaving to head off overseas. You just took off.’
There was no missing the bitter edge to Ben’s words, but no way was Poppy going to explain why she left. Not to Ben of all people. The events that had led to her leaving were best left well alone.
‘I’m not eighteen anymore, Ben. Believe it or not, I’ve become rather good at planning and organising. You have to when you’re travelling. When you move around a lot. The thing is, you’re not the only one who’s planning on starting a business. I’ve one in mind, too. A gift shop, featuring all things unicorn. And I think Muswell Hill may well be the perfect place to set up shop.’
Ben’s lips quirked, then mashed together, then quirked up again.
‘What? You think I’m not serious? You don’t think I can?’ Poppy re-folded her arms, more to stop herself from punching Ben in the arm than to shield herself from his amused disbelief.
Ben’s chest rose and fell, his lips straightened out. ‘It’s not that I don’t think you can, I just didn’t expect you to say that. I mean a business is a lot of work. You can’t just flit in and out. You have to think ahead. You have to be serious. And, well, just how serious is a unicorn gift shop?’
‘It’s very serious. You wouldn’t know. You’ve spent your working life with your head in textbooks and papers and whatnot. Your lack of online presence alone tells me you’ve no idea about the explosion of unicorn everything. People love them. Not just kids either. Teens. People in their twenties. Thirties. Everyone. There are webpages dedicated to them. My social media feeds are dotted with random snaps of them. They’re huge. Which means my unicorn gift shop is going to draw crowds from all around, you’ll see.’ Poppy gave a definitive nod. Ben’s reaction only added fuel to her plans. He thought she was the same old flighty, fun Poppy? Well, he was going to find out otherwise. ‘Anyway, you never told me what business you were planning to open?’ Poppy gazed out at the window, her heart picking up pace as she took in the streets whizzing past. As familiar to her as the back of her hand, these were streets she’d roamed day and night, her mother giving her more freedom than any child should ever have. Freedom, when what she’d really wanted was love. To feel loved. To feel wanted. The only person who’d made her feel that way sat opposite her. But that was a long time ago. Things had changed.She had changed.
‘A gourmet tea shop.’ Ben expertly parallel parked outside a row of houses around the corner from the shops. ‘High-end teas sourced from around the globe. Delicious cakes. Slices. Biscuits.’
‘And who’ll be making these cakes and slices? You?’ Poppy released her seatbelt and got out of the car. She lifted her arms in a long stretch, breathed in the sun-warmed air, and allowed herself a small smile as she took in the terraced homes, many fronted by perfectly clipped hedges perched atop matching brick fences. So different to the wooden one-storeyed Sixties-style bungalows and Eighties-built style-free square boxes that had lined the street she’d flatted in last.
The slam of the car door brought her attention back to Ben, who was expertly knotting his tie.
‘Yes, me.’ He scooped up a suit jacket and shrugged it on, then buttoned it up. ‘I’ll be doing the baking.’
‘Really?’ Poppy released the stretch, then leaned against the car. ‘I know you were the king of Home Economics at school but baking at school is one thing – baking for business is another.’
‘And you’d know this how?’ Ben locked his car and started up the street.
‘Am I coming with you?’ Poppy trailed after him. ‘I thought I was to stay with the car.’
‘You can come for the walk if you want. I’d have thought you’d be tired of being stuck inside. Or you can stay here. Do what you want. I don’t care.’
He could say he didn’t care, but the squaring of his shoulders and the frostiness in his voice told her otherwise. Stupid, Poppy. She’d just pooh-poohed his business idea. Pooh-poohed him. It was one thing to listen to her horrid inner critic that always tried to make her second-guess her abilities, her worth, but she had no right to project that inner critic onto Ben. Not when she knew how determined and disciplined Ben could be. He could have taken night classes. Watched online tutorials. Done any number of things to learn how to bake for the masses, and she wouldn’t know. Their steady stream of communication when she’d first left had turned into a trickle over the years as Ben had become busier. His emails shorter. To the point. And, eventually, she’d got the point, Ben didn’t have time for her. Yet she’d still emailed on occasion, whenever she moved, just so someone at home knew where she was in case anything went wrong.
Poppy jogged a few steps to catch up with Ben. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m an idiot. I should know better. Whenever you put your mind to something you make it work. More than that, you succeed. You always have. I bet you could enter a baking competition on the telly and win. Easily.’
‘I bet I could too. And it’s not like I stopped baking once I left school. It’s been my stress relief for as long as I can remember. It also made me very popular at work when I brought in the previous night’s goods.’ Ben turned onto a bustling side street, dotted with shops that hadn’t been there when she left. A generic chain-store coffee shop, a designer clothing store, a store selling cutesy baby gear. She spotted the charity store where she’d got most of her wardrobe from as a youngster. Got? More like stolen. Hunching in the doorway in the middle of the night, rifling through bags left at the door, praying she wouldn’t be caught, not wanting to admit to anyone that her mother was too busy with her art and friends and gregarious lifestyle to be bothered to think her daughter might need clothes. To be bothered to think, or care, about her daughter at all.
Give big anonymous donation to store. Poppy added the thought to the top of her mental ‘to-do’ list.
Next to the charity store stood an empty shop, a ‘for lease’ sign hanging in its window. Was the sign a sign? Was that the shop she could set up her business in? Lightness infused her heart, dispersing the dread she hadn’t realised had been sitting dark and heavy. She’d take note of the number and call the shop’s owner once she was settled in her new place.
Ben crossed the street then stopped in front of the shop. Her shop. No, surely not. He wasn’t stealing her shop from underneath her, was he? Not that he knew it was her shop, but it had to be. She felt it deep down. The same way she’d known deep down that it was time to come home.
‘How do I look?’ He straightened his shoulders, ran his hand over his perfect-as-always hair and flashed her a winning smile.
‘Perfect. Is the shop around the corner? On the main road?’
‘No. It’s this one, right here.’ He angled his head towards the space. ‘It suits my budget, and the street’s busy, and close enough to the main street that people won’t be put off making a small detour to visit.’
‘You’ve thought it all out.’ Of course he had. That’s what Ben did. His life had been mapped out since he was young. He didn’t do anything without careful thought. The opposite of herself. She’d figured she’d come home, find a flat, nab herself a space, place an order for a bunch of cute unicorn product and watch the customers and money roll in. She’d not even thought about budgets, other than to have enough money in the bank to start the business.
The squeak of the front door snapped her out of her darkening mood. ‘Mr Evans? You’re on time. Excellent. I like that. You didn’t mention anything about bringing someone? No matter though. There’s not much to see, just the main space, the kitchen behind, and there’s a small office. But it’s always good to have a second opinion. Come in. Come in. Lovely to meet you, dear, I’m Monty Gilbert. Call me Monty.’
‘Actually, she was going to stay out—’ Ben went to correct the bespectacled gentleman who’d greeted him, but stopped as he was hustled inside.
Poppy gave him a ‘what can you do’ shrug, trailed inside and then stepped to the right, giving Ben some space to chat to the landlord and giving herself a moment to view the shop that would have been hers if Ben hadn’t seen it first.
It was beautiful. Perfect. Polished wooden floors gleamed under subtle downlights. One end of the shop was lined in redbrick, the other plastered and painted a barely-there cream. She could imagine white-painted shelves pushed up against it, filled with unicorn stationery – holographic pens, unicorn stickers, writing sets. Mugs from bombastic and brilliant to sweet and subtle. Stuffed unicorn toys could take pride of place in the corner, and a range of unicorn-printed clothing could hang from a rack by the far wall.
She glanced over at Ben and saw his eyes brighten as he took in the brick wall. She knew what he was seeing. She could see it too. Wooden shelving stained the colour of long-steeped black tea would be perfect against that red and would look marvellous holding tea-sets and tins of tea. And the ornate timber counter could easily be stained the same colour and would provide a striking centrepiece for the shop. It was the perfect space for his venture.
‘I must apologise, I was a little misleading in my advertisement.’ Monty shoved his hands in his brown corduroy pant pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. ‘You see my son told me I was asking too little rent for this space. I haven’t had to rent it out in years, you see. The only reason I’m renting it now is because the previous tenant passed, may she rest in peace, and I thought a little hike in the lease was fine. Turns out I was going to be doing myself no favours…’
‘Oh.’ Ben’s face stilled. His eyes narrowed. Was that panic flashing through them? Or had Poppy imagined it? ‘What kind of rent are you looking for?’
Monty paused, then uttered a number.
The colour drained from Ben’s face. ‘That’s twice what you were asking in the advertisement.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.’ Monty looked up as the door opened and two gangly teens walked in. A boy and a girl, both the same height, with hair the identical shade of auburn.
Fraternal twins, Poppy guessed.
‘Sophie, Joseph. Didn’t I tell you to wait outside if you saw I was with people?’ Monty folded his arms and fixed the twins with an irritated stare.
‘Sorry, Grandad. Forgot.’ The girl, Sophie, shrugged, then held up her hand and began inspecting her nails.
Monty’s chest rose and fell as a huff of irritation filled the room. ‘I’m so sorry for the intrusion, Mr Evans. Would you mind giving me a minute while I sort these two out, then send them on their way?’ His palms flipped up in a silent apology, before turning his attention to the twins. ‘So, how did the job search go?’ Monty’s pitch heightened with hope.
‘Nowhere.’ Sophie leaned against the counter, her petite nose wrinkling. ‘The job search went nowhere, right, Joe?’
Her brother nodded, his eyes fixed on the floorboards. ‘Nobody wants us.’
‘And we tried, Grandad, we really did.’ Sophie pulled out her phone and buried her nose in it.
Poppy grinned. Sure they’d tried. That explained the splodge of what looked like chocolate ice cream on Joseph’s shirt. And the leaf attached to the bottom of Sophie’s shoe. Grabbing ice cream and going for a walk through Queen’s Wood was hardly what she’d call a job search.
‘Well, you’ll have to try again tomorrow.’ Monty shook his head. ‘I can’t have you two underfoot all holidays. And I promised your parents we’d keep you busy, keep you out of mischief, until you decided what you wanted to do with your lives.’
An idea swirled in the back of Poppy’s mind. She may have found a way to launch both businesses, while getting onside of the landlord, who – if the look of despair on his face was anything to go by – had two charges on his hands that were going to drive him crazy if they weren’t kept busy.
‘How much did you say the rent was again?’ She made her way to stand beside Ben, hoping he’d go along with her idea. Provide a united front.
Monty repeated the price.
‘Would you consider shaving ten per cent off that, in exchange for hiring these two?’ She nodded at Sophie and Joe, whose mouths formed identical o’s, their aquamarine eyes widening in horror. Poppy suppressed a smile. ‘Because we’re going to need some help, Ben and I, if we’re going to open our shops in this space in couple of weeks’ time.’
‘Our shops?’ Ben shot Poppy a quizzical look.
‘Sparkle & Steep. That’s the name we agreed on, right?’ She raised her eyebrows, praying that Ben wouldn’t work against her.
‘Sparkle & Steep. Yes, that’s right.’ Ben nodded, his face free from emotion.
A bit shell-shocked, Poppy guessed. ‘You see, Monty, we are going to open a gourmet tea shop, and London’s most fabulous unicorn gift shop.’ She turned to her new employees. ‘Now, Sophie, Joe, I may as well be upfront about this. We can’t afford to pay much, I’m sorry, but being new and all there’s just not the money there for more than the living wage.’
‘That’s fine,’ Monty interrupted. ‘These two need work, and you’re offering it. It’ll keep them out of my hair, and keep them out of trouble. I’ve got the papers all drawn up out back. Take a look at them, and if all is in order, the shop’s yours. But the sooner you decide the better, I’ve another interested party keen to take a look. They should be here any minute, actually.’ Not waiting for an answer Monty turned and made his way through the door to the back room, leaving the two teens to huddle up in a murmur of mutters.
Ben pulled Poppy to the furthest corner. ‘What are you doing?’ he hissed. ‘Opening a store with me? That wasn’t the plan. And why’d you go and throw the twins into the deal? They clearly don’t want to work.’
‘First of all, you had your budget and this was out of it. I, too, have a budget.’ Poppy crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘And our budgets combined will make this work. Also, you’ll need help. And I’ll need help. And it’s clear to me that Monty is being driven round the bend by those two being under his feet. It all makes sense. I’d go so far as to say it’s meant to be.’ Poppy flashed Ben a thumbs up, along with an encouraging nod.
Monty returned in a rustle of paper and a hustle of feet. ‘Here you go. Here are the papers. Look over them. It’s all above board, but I want you to be happy.’
Poppy thrust her hand in Monty’s direction, and ignored Ben’s choke-cough. ‘No need for that. I trust you. We trust you. Consider us your new tenants.’
Chapter 3 (#ulink_c35f6524-9368-5fa8-bffd-b72c594e9e39)
Ben ran his eyes over the documents before him. Poppy may have been willing to sign away her life without checking things out first, but there was no way he was about to. Still, they looked fine to his professional eye. Everything was in order as Monty had said. But what was not in order, in fact what was highly out of order, was Poppy springing this on him without even considering his thoughts, his feelings.
Sharing a space with her? Not just a space, but a business space? This wasn’t like sharing a fake rock-pet as they had when they were young and neither set of parents had allowed them to own a puppy or kitten. This was their lives. Their livelihoods. And if the fate of the rock-pet was anything to go by, going into business with Poppy was not a good idea. She’d lost the darn thing between school and home three days into their deal to share it.
‘Didn’t see that coming, did ya?’ The girl – Sophie – nudged him with her elbow. ‘I’ve never seen someone look so green in my life. Do you need a bucket?’
‘Sophie, don’t be rude. That’s our boss you’re talking to.’ Her brother pulled Sophie away and gave Ben some breathing space.
Breathing space? He’d need more than the air in the shop to breathe after everything Poppy had just flung at him. He’d need a small country’s worth of air. Speaking of Poppy, where had she gone? ‘Poppy?’
‘I’m out the back. With you in a sec.’
The light tip-tap of excitable feet greeted him, followed by Poppy, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.
‘This place is perfect. The kitchen’s great. You’ll love it. The office is a little small, but I’m sure we can take turns in there to have our cups of tea when we’re on break, or eat our lunch, or whatever. Or we could squeeze in together if you don’t mind getting cuddly with me. The toilet could do with a scrub, but I think we can get Joe or Sophie to do that. Whoever’s annoying us most at any given time.’
‘We heard that,’ Sophie sniped over her shoulder, before turning back to her brother, who had his eyes glued on his phone, his fingers tapping away furiously.
‘You were meant to.’ Poppy’s smile didn’t falter. ‘It’s my not-so-subtle way of telling you not to annoy us. And to do that you need to do as you’re told, when you’re told, and to not walk around with that grimace on your face. You’ll scare off the customers.’ Ignoring the grunt from Sophie’s direction, Poppy focused on Ben. ‘So, Ben, have you signed the papers? Does it look good? Are you happy with everything? Do you think we could have this place up and running in a week or two?’
Ben set the papers down, closed his eyes and took a breath. This was too much, too fast. This was pure Poppy. All go, no slow. ‘Poppy.’ He opened his eyes and took her by the shoulders. ‘I’m not sure about this. You and me, running a business in the same room? It’s a recipe for disaster.’
‘Piffle.’ Poppy shook her head, sending her signature black braid swinging. ‘We used to make a great team. Aced all the school projects we did together. And sure, we got into a little trouble here and there…’
‘Because of you,’ Ben asserted, hoping to remind her that her past follies hadn’t been forgotten. Even if they had quickly been forgiven.
‘Yes, well, I was younger. Now I’m not. Look, I’ve got the money.’ She pulled out her phone and began swiping furiously. ‘I have an app that I can show you. I’ve been saving every penny I can for a couple of years now.’ She went to lift her phone, but Ben held up his hand, stopping her.
‘It’s not that I don’t think you have the money. You could get the money in a second, even if you didn’t. Your mother, your family, isn’t exactly poor…’
Poppy’s smile disappeared, the line of her jaw sharpened. Ben inwardly cursed himself. Poppy’s mother may have been a successful artist, and the family she came from may have been well off, but that didn’t mean Poppy was a pampered princess who was given everything her heart desired. His home had shared a wall with Poppy’s, and he’d heard the raised voices when she and her mother had argued, followed by the door slamming.
What had gone on at the Taylor household to cause so much friction, he had no idea; Poppy and her often red-rimmed eyes had refused to speak of it, but he knew enough to know that the relationship she had with her mother wasn’t the kind where you asked for money. Or, come to think of it, where you’d turn up on the doorstep after twelve years away expecting your old room back.
And maybe that meant he needed to put his misgivings on pause, to trust Poppy. For all her youthful transgressions she’d come home with a plan, with money to execute that plan, and she’d been the one to find a way to reduce the rent on the space, while hiring two helping hands who she had managed to wrangle into submission with just a few words and the lightest of warnings.
‘The thing is, Poppy, what do you know about running a business? It’s a big ask to expect me to just leap into this with you. There’s a lot of risk involved…’
‘And I know how much you hate taking risks, which is why I’m not making you take any. Like I said, I have the money. And while I’ve never owned a business I’ve worked in plenty. I’ve even been put in charge of a couple. Look, Ben. I’m offering a solution. The rent’s lower. We’ve got two people over there who, despite their surly and disinterested demeanours, I think could actually be quite helpful. More importantly, we’ve got each other. We can make anything work.’ Poppy took his hands in hers and gave them a shake. ‘Come on. Trust me. But trust me quick. Look outside.’
Ben twisted round to see a couple hanging around the shop’s front window, their noses all but pressed to the window.
‘Monty said it was ours, but if they’re willing to pay the full amount…’ Poppy let the sentence hang, her eyebrows raised.
Damn it. She was right. And he wanted this place. Had done since he saw the advertisement. The exposed bricks, the polished floorboards, the simple but chic décor. It was perfect for a gourmet tea shop. ‘Fine. Pass me the pen.’ He took in a deep breath as he scrawled his name, and prayed he wasn’t making a mistake.
‘Fantastic.’ Poppy scooped the papers up from under him. ‘Monty. We’re all signed up.’ She passed the papers to their new landlord then half-danced, half-skipped her way to the front door, opened it and flapped her hands at the would-be tenants. ‘Sorry, shop’s gone. Good luck with your search. Have a fab day.’ She twisted round and rubbed her hands together. ‘Right. What are we waiting for? We’ve got two shops to open. Sophie? Joe? Consider this your last day of freedom. Be here tomorrow morning at nine sharp.’ Poppy turned her attention back to Ben. ‘As for you and I, let’s get the keys and you can take me to my new abode, and we’ll nut things out there over a bottle of something yummy. My treat.’
***
‘Well, this wasn’t what I expected.’ Ben did a slow three-sixty as he took in Poppy’s new home, tucked away on the top floor of a terraced house that had been converted into flats. The open-plan living and dining area was on the small side, with just enough room for the two-seater couch, coffee table and dining suite. Through an open door he spotted a bed, and another door, which presumably led to the en-suite. Despite its cosiness, it was surprisingly elegant, with white-washed wooden floors throughout, walls painted in a soft grey, and the architraves and skirtings in a fresh white. ‘It must be a relief that you were able to rent it furnished.’ Ben ran his hand over the cream knotted throw that lay over the soft chestnut-coloured leather couch.
‘Yeah, well, I knew I wanted to hit the ground running when I arrived, so it just made sense to find a place that was all set up for me.’ Poppy grabbed the bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d picked up on their way home and cracked the lid. ‘Screw tops. How did we ever live without them?’
‘My father calls them the work of the devil.’ Ben rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and shook his head.
Poppy’s laughter filled the space, light and free. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ She sloshed the wine into two glasses and passed one to Ben. ‘So, what made you do such a U-turn? Upping and leaving a safe, secure job in order to start your own business venture? That’s not the Ben I grew up with. And, how is your father taking it?’
Ben swirled the wine round, creating a miniature maelstrom. He inwardly grimaced; it was the perfect symbol for the current state of his life. ‘He’s taking it as well as you’d expect. Dad can’t get his head around me wanting something other than what he wants for me, if that makes sense. All these years and we’ve shared the law. Bonded over it. Now… I’m doing what makes me happy. Pursuing a career that fills me with joy in here…’ He tapped his heart. ‘A career that excites me. I think Dad sees that as a betrayal. Hell, I know he does.’ He took a sip of wine, hoping to wash away the grief that had created a knot in his throat. ‘We’re not really talking right now. Mum’s trying to mediate, but…’
‘She’s wasting her time?’ Poppy moved to the small dining table and pushed aside the curtains, allowing the late afternoon light to spill into the room.
‘Something like that.’ Ben pulled out the chair opposite Poppy, sat down and closed his eyes against the sun, glad for the moment to rest, relax… and try and figure out what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.
‘“Why did I agree to this?” That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’
Ben opened his eyes to see the tip of Poppy’s tongue peeking out between her lips, a teasing smile lifting her lips.
‘I’m not going to screw this up, Ben. I promise. Sparkle & Steep is going to be amazing.’ Poppy took a sip of her wine and set the glass down. ‘It’ll be as brilliant as this view. Look at the view, Ben. Isn’t it brilliant?’
Ben turned to the window and saw a length of London sprawling before him, the cityscape rising tall and proud into a bright blue sky. ‘You’re right, it’s brilliant. God, I can’t believe you managed to find this place while living on the other side of the world.’
‘I’m lucky like that.’ Poppy grinned, her fingers rhythmically drumming on the table. ‘I’m also lucky to have you. You could have said no to me coming into the shop with you. You could have told me to stay in the car back there. You could have flat out refused to entertain the idea of going into business with me. But you didn’t. So, thank you.’
‘You’re not going to make me regret it, are you?’ Ben laid his hand over Poppy’s, stopping the incessant drumming.
‘No. I’m not. We’re going to prove your father wrong. More than that, we’re going to make him proud.’ Poppy lifted her glass. ‘To us. To Sparkle & Steep.’
Ben raised his glass to meet hers, then took a sip as was tradition. Making his father proud. Poppy made it seem so easy. So simple. But how did you make a man proud when you’d walked away from a profession that, for the men in his family, being part of was every bit a tradition as sipping your drink after proposing a toast?
‘Stop stewing, Ben.’ Poppy sprung up, crossed the room to where she’d dumped her backpack, then unclipped and rifled through it, sending a tattered lump of greyness, with a faded rainbow mane, falling to the floor.
Mr Flumpkins? Surely not? Had Poppy really carried the unicorn she’d found in Alexandra Park and – after being unable to find its owner – decided to adopt, around the world with her? She must’ve had him for twenty odd years by now.
‘Am I seeing things? Is that… Mr Flumpkins?’
Poppy hugged the soft toy to her chest. ‘It is. In the cosy, cuddly fluffy-ish flesh.’
Ben held his hand out, and Poppy passed the toy to him. ‘I can’t believe he’s still in one piece.’
‘Barely.’ Poppy continued rummaging through her bag. ‘He nearly lost his ear in an airport escalator a couple of years back. Fell out of my backpack, nearly got chomped, poor wee soul. Luckily a young girl snatched him up and gave him back before it was too late.’
‘I’m surprised she didn’t keep him for herself.’
‘Hardly. She told me I needed to chuck him and get myself a newer, prettier one. She liked the ice cream I bought her to say thanks well enough though. Ah, here’s what I’m looking for.’ She pulled out a shining, shimmering notebook, a pen threaded through its ringed spine. ‘We need to plan how we’re going to do this thing.’
Ben placed Mr Flumpkins on the windowsill and straightened up. Yes, a plan was needed. Big time. With a plan in place he’d feel less like he’d been shoved into a whirlwind and spat out again.
‘So…’ Poppy slid into the chair, opened the notebook and wrote the name she’d proposed at the top of a blank page. ‘I was thinking we could have multi-coloured chairs scattered around multi-coloured tables. Industrial style metal ones. They’ll look amazing. Also, unicorn-headed teaspoons. Oh, and I could get some of those cushions that are covered in sequins that can be brushed two ways to create different patterns so that the chairs are nice and comfy for those who want to sit and natter.’ She reached over and grabbed her mobile from its spot on the kitchen bench. ‘Find out where to get reversible sequin cushions,’ she said aloud as she typed the reminder into her phone. She set the phone down with a satisfied nod. ‘I’d sell them as well, of course. They’re fabulous.’
Ben blinked, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. So much for being spat out of the whirlwind. What was Poppy on about? Multi-coloured this and that? Sparkly cushions? That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t gourmet. It sounded like… a unicorn had eaten too many sweets and thrown up all over the place.
‘Nooooo. No. Uh-uh. This won’t do. This isn’t going to work.’ He pushed the chair back, and began to pace the width of the room, trying to get his thoughts in order.
‘What do you mean it won’t work? It has to. We’ve signed the lease. We’ve committed.’ Poppy tapped the end of the pen on the notebook. ‘I’ve seen some unicorn-themed clothing that I was planning to sell, but maybe we could find tea lovers’ apparel too? Cake lovers’ apparel? There must be some out there we could import, or we could create our own?’
Ben’s stomach swirled. Tea and cake-loving apparel? Where was the sophistication? The class? This wasn’t what he had in mind, not by a long shot. It was like Poppy thought that by sharing a space with him they were joining forces, going into business together. An inseparable team. Just like the old days. But this wasn’t the old days. They’d been separated for years now. Gone down different paths. And, if he were one hundred per cent honest with himself, while it was one thing to share a lease, he didn’t want to share his shop. Not with someone who could so easily pack up and pick up in the middle of the night without saying a word.
Fear froze his frenetic pacing. And what if she did that anyway? Even if their shops were separate, he’d be left with one surly teen, one disengaged one, and half a shop’s worth of lease.
Ben swallowed hard, pushing the lump that was threatening to choke him, to drown his dreams, out of the way. ‘Poppy. Ground rules. We need to set some.’
‘Ground rules?’ Poppy’s head angled, her brows drawing together. ‘What kind?’
‘First of all. You are not to leave in the middle of the night without warning.’
Poppy huffed and rolled her eyes. ‘I did it once. Years ago. I’m a grown woman, I’m not going to do that again. I wouldn’t do it to you. There’s too much riding on this. I get that.’
‘Which leads me to the next rule. We have to keep our businesses separate. We can share a space, share the lease, but under no circumstances is any of your… paraphernalia to enter my side of the shop. “Steep” is not to look like a fairy chundered in it. There will be no glitter. No sparkle. No tackiness. No unicorns. My side of the shop—’ he placed his hand on his chest to emphasise the point ‘—is to be a place of refinement. Where people who appreciate good tea will come and discover new flavours and broaden their tea horizons, all while enjoying delicious morsels.’
Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘How did you and I ever end up friends? You’re such a stick in the mud. And who says “morsels” anymore? Food, Ben. They’ll be coming to eat your food.’ Poppy placed her hands on her hips. ‘Honestly, I can’t believe you’re so anti-unicorn. I knew I should’ve set up a cat-themed shop instead. Cat cafes are big business. I went to one in New Zealand and there was something so centring about having a cat purring on your lap while you were sipping a flat white. Although when one decided my braid was a plaything that wasn’t so fun. Who knew getting a kitten out of your hair could be so difficult?’ Poppy’s braid swayed as she shook her head. ‘We could do it, you know. Adopt some cats and kittens. A gourmet tea shop with kittens running amuck sounds pretty fab.’
Ben forced himself not to rise to the bait. Poppy had always known how to press his buttons – had been amused by how he toed the line compared to her freedom-loving ways. She, more than anyone, knew he wouldn’t have time for the frivolity of kittens and cats skittering through a store, let alone time for cleaning up after them and maintaining their health.
‘What? You’re not going to tell me I’m being ridiculous?’ Poppy laughed, the sound brightening the room, as it had always done. ‘I was expecting you to give me that look of derision that I bet had people quailing in court.’
‘I wasn’t in court, Poppy. You know I worked in property law.’ Ben sat back down and took a long drink of his wine.
‘Well, you could have been. You could have changed directions, for all I knew. It’s not like you’ve bothered replying to the emails I’ve sent in the past year or so. Not with any news of substance. “I’m fine” does not an email make.’ Poppy crossed her arms and tucked her hands in her armpits.
Guilt swarmed in Ben’s gut. That was Poppy’s signature move when she was hurt, sad, upset or wanting to shut someone out. And he’d been the cause of it. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply all that much, or all that well. Life got busy. You know how things are. Or maybe you don’t… I don’t know.’
‘Of course you don’t know. You didn’t ask. Even when we were emailing on a sort-of regular basis you never asked questions about my life.’ Poppy sunk her top teeth into her bottom lip, then released them. ‘You probably thought my life was one great adventure. Swanning from country to country. Chasing summer. Sunbathing. Swimming. Being frivolous and free while you spent hours poring over papers and whatnot. The thing is, I worked, Ben. The whole time. Yes, I saw sights. Yes, I had a good time. But I also worked my arse off. It wasn’t one long holiday.’ Poppy’s jaw jutted out, just as it always did when she was holding back – trying to keep her emotions in check, trying to be brave. ‘Just because I choose to smile instead of scowl, choose to laugh instead of lift my lip and sneer at the world, it doesn’t mean I don’t have a serious bone in my body. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.’ Poppy untucked her arms, lifted her chin, and took a deep breath in. ‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m being an idiot. So, back to business…’ She picked up her pen, lowered her gaze to the page so he couldn’t see how she was feeling, and scrawled two short sentences.
‘No combining space. No combining anything.’
Poppy set the pen down on the paper with a slap. And just like that, Ben was a boy again, and the urge to make Poppy feel better was there. The need to reach out and run his hand down her braided rope of ebony hair. To hold her close. To tell her she was wonderful. She was enough. That despite whatever complicated things were happening in her life, in her head, that they could deal with it together. If she just let him in.
Except she wouldn’t. He was an idiot to think her time away travelling would have changed that. Changed her.
‘I know you didn’t just sunbathe your way round the world. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Poppy waved his apology away. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She looked up, a smile fixed on her face. One that didn’t chase away the shadows in her eyes. ‘If anything, I’m kicking myself. I should have expected this to happen. You’ve always been so paint by numbers. Knowing what you wanted, why you wanted it, and how you were going to get there. You’re the most organised person I know. Heck, I bet even your underwear drawer is colour-coded. Light to dark, from left to right. Or is it alphabetised by brand? Or arranged by occasion? Your day-to-day underwear would be at the top, followed by church underwear, because you’d be too respectful to wear anything threadbare or holey to church.’
‘I haven’t been to church since I moved out of home. I just went because it made Mum happy.’
‘But I bet you still go to St James’ every Christmas and Easter.’ Poppy raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it.
‘I do. With Mum.’ Ben nodded, not seeing any point in lying. ‘But I don’t have special church underwear.’
‘But I bet you’ve got dating underwear. The good stuff. Fits perfectly. Manly colours. Navy blue. Black. No tacky patterns. Although I did see some unicorn boxers that I could order for you if you wanted to shake things up…’
Ben waved Poppy’s suggestion away. ‘Not in a million years will I wear unicorn boxers. Or unicorn anything. And frankly, Poppy, I’m starting to think you’re far too interested in the contents of my underwear.’ Ben bit down on his tongue. What had he just said? He surely didn’t say ‘contents of my underwear’.
He glanced at Poppy who was doubled over, elbows on knees, her shoulders shaking as airy gasps filled the space between them.
‘I mean… not my underwear… my contents… er, I mean my drawers. I know you wouldn’t be interested in the contents of my…’ Shut up, Ben. God, what was going on with him? Usually he was calm, collected, in control of what came out of his mouth. But being in the same room as Poppy meant the words flew off his tongue as quickly as they came into his head. It was the Poppy-effect in full flight. Her presence had always left him a little unsteady. Off kilter. Hell, he never put a foot wrong when he was left to his own devices, but whenever she entered his sphere, since the day they met, he’d found himself in all sorts of harmless trouble. Nipping over to his neighbour’s house to relieve their tree of apples. Getting tipsy on cider Poppy had stolen from her mother’s fridge when they were fifteen. He’d been so ill the next day his parents had taken pity on him and decided the hangover was punishment enough. Life with Poppy was more interesting, but it also meant there was a huge chance things could go askew.
She could promise things were going to go smoothly all she wanted, but he only had the past to go by, and that made him nervous.
‘Oh God, you’re hilarious. You and your rules.’ Poppy straightened up and smoothed back the tendrils of hair that that had come loose from her braid to frame her face. ‘You were always one for them, but gosh, look at you now. So serious. So earnest. So much more… rule-y. What happened, Ben? You used to know how to have a bit of fun, but now…’ Poppy’s gaze started at his perfectly shone shoes, before she worked her way up to his suit pants, his suit jacket, lingered on the tie, then finished on his cut-just-that-day hair. ‘Now you’re all about looking perfect, and making everything perfect, and being perfect. What’s wrong with a little sparkle and shimmer and shine? What’s wrong with unicorns? They make people happy. They make people smile. Do you not want to be happy and smiley, Ben?’
Did he not want to be happy? Of course he did. But right now he had too much riding on the success of Steep. If he didn’t do well, if leaving his practice had been a mistake, he’d have to deal with the disapproval of his father for… well, probably ever. ‘Look, Poppy, I just want to make sure my business succeeds. And for that to happen “Steep” needs to be taken seriously, and unicorns don’t exactly project that mentality. It’s one thing to go halves in this space, but there needs to be separation. No sharing, no boundary crossing, you understand? “Sparkle” can shimmer and shine all it likes, but “Steep” needs to be as solid and dependable as a good cup of tea.’
Poppy rolled her eyes so hard Ben feared they were going to pop out of their sockets. ‘Fine. I understand. I’ll stick to your stupid rule, but I’ve got one rule you need to abide by.’
‘Really?’ Ben mashed his lips together to stop a smirk appearing. Poppy, the ultimate disregarder of rules, was going to set one? ‘What’s your rule?’
‘My rule is this – if you so much as look at one of my customers like they’re mad for loving unicorns, if you so much as make a snide remark, if I see a hint of side-eye when a man comes in and buys the unicorn underpants I plan on selling, then I’m out. I’ll give you plenty of time to find a person to take over my side of the space. Or enough time for you to see your bank manager, or whoever, and sort out your expanding into my side of the shop, but I won’t stick around. You take Steep seriously? Well, I take Sparkle every bit as seriously. My life savings are going into this, and I don’t have assets I can sell or people I can ask to help me should things falter. Which, they won’t.’
Ben nodded. ‘You’re right, they won’t. Because as much as I’m sure I could fill the space or figure out some alternative arrangement, I have neither the time nor the inclination. So, I guess that means I agree to your ridiculous rule.’
‘Good.’ Poppy held out her hand for Ben to shake and caught the edge of her wine glass, knocking it over, which saw it domino into his wine glass, sending a stream of wine over the table and onto the floor.
Please don’t be a sign. Ben shook his head in despair. Please don’t let it mean that ‘Sparkle & Steep’ is destined to become ‘Debacle & Weep’.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_f61785ea-48f3-578d-9ad4-1ffe8a3fa848)
Poppy clapped her hands, the sound bouncing off the bare walls. ‘Righto, you lot. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives. A grand day no less. A day that will go down in history as being the start of two of the most fabulous businesses London has ever seen.’ Poppy paused, and waited for a cheer of encouragement, or at the very least a grunt to show that she’d been heard. None came.
She’d successfully managed as a nanny to six-year-old triplets, you’d think she could hold the attention of two eighteen-year-olds, but no. Sophie was inspecting her nails. Joe had his eyes on that damn phone of his. And her business partner was clomp-clomp-clomping back and forth in the kitchen, muttering into his phone. Pausing every now and then to flick her the thumbs up. Why? She had no idea. But if it meant things were moving forward at a rapid pace she was happy for him to leave the teen wrangling to her.
‘Joe? Are you listening to anything that’s coming out of my mouth?’
No answer came. Right, then. Drastic measures were called for.
Stomping over to where he stood, Poppy plucked the phone out from his palm and marched it to the kitchen. Turning on the tap she threatened to douse it in water. ‘Don’t think I won’t,’ she warned. ‘We’re not paying you to spend hours looking at mindless gaming videos, or… half-naked women… or whatever it is that has so captured your imagination.’
‘Unicorns.’ Joe folded his arms across his chest and popped his hip out. ‘I was looking up unicorn suppliers with quick delivery times. I get the feeling you want things up and running soon as possible.’
Poppy glanced at the screen to see a wall of unicorn giftware. ‘Oh, I see. And how long do these sites you’ve found take?’ Poppy returned the phone to Joe. ‘And what’s the pricing like?’
Sophie shook her head. A disgusted puff of air escaping her lips. ‘Are you telling us you haven’t even sorted that out yet? Have you thought about storage? And getting things through customs?’
‘I’m not daft, you know. Of course I’ve got that worked out.’ Kind of. Poppy had known she’d have to figure that stuff out, she just hadn’t expected for things to race ahead at breakneck speed – but there was no way she was letting Sophie know that. If they got a hint she was flying by the seat of her pants, they’d try and take advantage. ‘But, it’s good to have fresh stock, different stock, and I really appreciate that you’ve taken an interest in my business, Joe. Nice work.’ She slapped Joe on the back, then motioned to Ben to hang up the phone as soon as he could. ‘Speaking of space. We need to decide who gets what.’
With a quick goodbye Ben shoved his phone in the back pocket of his navy pants and leaned against the door. ‘I was hoping…’
‘To have the side with the bricks? I agree. It will suit your vision.’ Poppy fisted her hands and placed them on her hips. ‘I’m happy with the other side. It’s lighter, brighter. And I was thinking I’d get some holographic tinsel and drape it down the windows on my side of the shop.’
‘Cooooooool,’ breathed Joe.
‘Oh, God. No.’ Sophie gagged.
‘I’m with Sophie.’ Ben shook his head so quickly Poppy wondered if he would sprain his neck.
‘What’s wrong with that? It’s my side of the shop, isn’t it? I can do what I want, can’t I?’ Poppy tucked her tongue into her cheek.
‘Poppy. No. I forbid it.’ Ben placed his hands on his hips, mirroring hers, his face growing pink. Then red. Then almost purple. ‘It will look beyond tacky. What will people think of the shop? Of my shop?’
‘They’ll think it’s a fun place to visit. That our shop is a warm, welcoming, engaging, and just a little bit magical, place to spend time in.’ Poppy reached for her braid and stroked it.
‘She’s having you on,’ Sophie said flatly. ‘Honestly, Ben, can’t you see that? You’d think you’d know when your girlfriend was having you on.’
Ben’s eyes went from Poppy’s straight face, to her hand on her braid. ‘Damn it, you’re right. Her hand is on her braid. That’s what she does when she’s telling a white lie. And she’s not my girlfriend.’
‘Really?’ Sophie’s bottom lip slackened with surprise. ‘I totally thought you were. You’re kind of cute together. Like an old married couple.’
The colour in Ben’s face had beaten a retreat from its purple shade, but still held a blush. ‘Well, we’re not. We’ve just known each other forever. Right, Poppy?’
‘Right.’ Poppy dragged her hand away from her braid. ‘Just friends. That’s all. And since you outed my joke, Sophie, you can work for Ben. I get the feeling you two will get along well. Joe, are you cool to work for me?’
‘Cool.’ Joe shoved his hands in his jean pockets with a nod. ‘Do I get a staff discount?’
‘Sure do. More than that, you can have whatever takes your fancy at cost.’
‘Awesome.’ Joe nodded his approval, then picked up the bucket of cleaning supplies Poppy had brought with her. ‘In that case, I’ll get onto it.’
Poppy flashed him a thumbs up, then turned to Ben. ‘That means Sophie’s yours.’
‘Good.’ Sophie nodded her approval. ‘I like tea. I can bake a bit. And I’m all class.’
‘And all ego,’ Joe muttered as he walked past them towards the kitchen.
‘Whatever.’ Sophie elbowed her brother.
‘Well, now that’s sorted…’ Ben took in the space that was to be his. ‘I’m going to stain that counter a dark brown and find shelving that can go up against the brick wall and stain it the same colour. How are you with a paint brush, Sophie?’
Sophie held her hands up, showing off her intricately designed nail polish. ‘Steadiest hands you’ve ever met.’
‘Excellent.’ Ben held his hand up for a high-five, which Sophie ignored with a shrivel of her nose.
‘Here, I’ve got you.’ Poppy’s palm met Ben’s. She tried not to show her surprise as something zippy and zappy ran its way up her arm and danced its way to her heart. Must’ve slapped his hand too hard. She shook her head and ignored the tingles warming her skin. ‘We’ve got this, Ben. And I promise no holographic tinsel in the windows, but fair warning, there will be holographic other things, glitter and gold, not to mention fluff and fur.’
‘What you’re saying is that if it’ll make a five-year-old girl squeal in delight, you’ll be buying it.’ Sophie lifted her lip in a sneer that matched Ben’s perfectly.
Poppy bit back a laugh. Those two were peas in a pod. Sophie was like Ben had been at that age. Serious. Sure of himself. Not one to suffer fools.
Then again, Ben had suffered Poppy their whole childhood. Putting up with her whimsical ideas and devil-may-care attitude.
The part of her that expected rejection from those closest to her – that had learnt to expect it thanks to the way she was shunned by her mother – had led Poppy to wonder why Ben had stuck with her through thick and thin… then the moment the answer had revealed itself, she’d upped and left London. Left Ben.
One heart-stopping moment with Ben. One heart-wrenching argument with her mother. And her life had changed course…
Poppy put on her imaginary blinkers. There was no point thinking about that night. The past was the past. This shop was her future.
She just had to hope that history didn’t repeat itself.
***
Ben heaved the last of the flatpack shelving into the shop, shut the door, then leaned against it, resting his tired muscles. ‘All those hours spent working out, you’d think unloading shelving would be a breeze. I might even be able to skip my morning workout.’
‘Don’t you dare.’ Poppy glanced up from the floor, where she’d been spreading out the takeaways she’d ordered for dinner. ‘If you mess with those muscles you’ll lose your female customers. Maybe even some of the gentlemen customers too.’
‘I don’t have any customers.’ Ben sank down and began piling rice onto a paper plate, topping it with chicken tikka masala.
‘Not yet. But you will. I can feel it in my bones. By the way, thanks for sourcing the shelving. It’s perfect. The white shelves will look utterly gorgeous on my side, and that wooden shelving will be lush once it’s stained. I found a company who’ll put it all together for us, so we can concentrate on getting the stock sorted.’
‘You mean you’re not going to force Joe and Sophie to put it together?’ Ben forked a spoonful of curry into his mouth and closed his eyes in appreciation. Rich, aromatic… and, most importantly, filling. They hadn’t stopped all day. Cleaning, sourcing products, nailing down the days and times that Joe and Sophie would be working, not to mention what their duties would be. It was tiring work. And there was still so much to do.
Poppy piled her plate high with prawn biryani. ‘There’s no way I’m letting them loose on the shelving. I want it to stand the test of time. And I don’t want to be forking out extra because they’ve not read the instructions properly and screwed it all together the wrong way round and not realised it until it’s too late. Those shelves aren’t the rescrewable type.’
Ben set his plate and fork down and took in the woman before him. The Poppy who’d left would’ve done exactly what she didn’t want Joe and Sophie to do. This Poppy though? She’d been full steam ahead all day, but there was a structure to her ways. And apart from when she’d suggested he make candy-floss cupcakes with little unicorn icing creatures sprinkled on top for any kids who came into the tea shop, he’d been on board with all her suggestions. Any lingering worries he had about opening his shop side-by-side with hers were beginning to evaporate.
Poppy crossed her legs and let out a sigh, her shoulders inching down. ‘God, it’s good to relax, finally. It’s been go-go-go all day. Heck, it’s been go-go-go since I decided to come home. We haven’t even had a proper catch up. We need to remedy that. So, Ben, tell me about your life. Is there anyone special who’s currently resenting you for spending all your spare hours with me at the shop? Has a pearl-clutcher finally scooped you up? Are you keeping her from me in case the Poppy-curse sees another potential wife bite the dust?’
‘You give yourself too much credit.’ Ben tore off a piece of naan and ran it through the gravy. ‘And what on earth is a pearl-clutcher?’
‘Really? You don’t know? A pearl-clutcher is your ideal woman. A woman who likes things to be done the correct way. Who can’t bare the idea of messing with tradition, of breaking the rules.’ Poppy’s hand flew to her throat. Her eyes widened in horror. ‘You’d never believe what I saw the other day. It was shocking, I tell you, shocking. Meredith from down the road put her milk bottle in the rubbish bin. Not the recycling bin. Can you believe it? Terrible. Has she no heart?’
‘Who’s Meredith?’ Ben reached for the bottle of red wine Poppy had placed on the floor along with two plastic cups and poured them each a half-glass. Enough to be enjoyed, but not enough to render them useless at work the next day. ‘And why do you care so much about what she does with rubbish?’
‘Meredith is your ideal woman. A bona fide pearl-clutcher. She is prim. She is proper. She is easily outraged. She would always recycle anything that could be recycled, and anyone who doesn’t is an ingrate, in Meredith’s opinion.’
‘Well, it’s nice that she cares so much.’ Ben took a sip, then set the glass down. ‘Do you recycle all that can be recycled, Poppy?’
‘Of course I do.’ Poppy shovelled a forkful of food into her mouth.
‘And would you be outraged if you saw someone flout your recycling rules?’ Ben covered his mouth with his hand so Poppy wouldn’t see the amusement that was threatening to make its way onto his lips.
Poppy nodded. Then shook her head. Then hastily swallowed. ‘Oh no you don’t, Ben. I will not have you insinuating that I’m a pearl-clutcher. No way. Not going to happen. The difference between me and a pearl-clutcher is that I wouldn’t get all vocal about seeing someone do something I consider outrageous.’
‘Really? I’d have thought you’d march up to them and give them a lecture about saving the environment one recyclable at a time. Kind of like you did to my mum when you were hell-bent on joining Greenpeace and doing everything you could to ensure the… how did you put it?’
Poppy shut her eyes and groaned. ‘“The health and safety of the earth and all its residents”. Are you ever going to let me forget that? And you can drop your hand, I know you’re laughing at me.’
Ben did as he was told, holding back a snort-laugh when Poppy flicked him the two-fingered salute. ‘Well you went through our rubbish and separated everything out and made Mum solemnly swear that she’d never let a recyclable into the bin again. It was the funniest thing. I think she fell a bit in love with you that day.’ That made two of us. Ben pushed the thought away. There was no point in entertaining feelings from the past. They’d gotten him nowhere then, they weren’t going to get him anywhere now. He had to get his brain off this thought track, and the best way to do that was to change the subject. ‘Interesting bracelet, Poppy. Where’d you get it?’
‘This old thing?’ Poppy held up a bronze chain filled with charms.
Amongst the collection, Ben spotted a koala, a rugby ball, a tiny pizza slice, a water buffalo. A random assortment, yet somehow on Poppy it worked.
‘It’s just how I keep track of where I’ve been. A charm for every town or country I’ve visited. And don’t try and distract me from our conversation, Ben. Let’s get back to you.’ Her bracelet jangled as she pointed in his direction. ‘Now, tell me, why isn’t there a Meredith in your life? To be honest I was surprised you and Milly didn’t get back together after I left. She was a Meredith all the way.’
‘Milly was a bit of a Meredith. Although she sounds like she’s loosened up.’ Ben folded the gravy through the rice.
‘“Sounds”? Are you two still in contact?’ Poppy picked up a napkin and wiped at a splodge of red gravy that had nestled in the groove of her mouth. ‘All gone?’
‘Not quite.’ Ben took the napkin and patted away another splodge that had landed on her chin, then passed the napkin back to Poppy. ‘You still eat like a starving animal.’
‘Habit of a lifetime.’ Poppy’s lips turned down in what looked like a frown, but in a blink of an eye it was gone, a smile in its place. ‘Anyway, back to Milly. I didn’t know you two still talked.’
‘It’s a recent thing. She called. Said she was going to be in the area. We’ve texted each other a bit.’ Ben gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Anyway, maybe I’m just not in the market for a pearl-clutching Meredith type of woman. Maybe I’d prefer a woman with a bit of fire in her belly. Someone fun, funny, not afraid to take a chance. Someone with a good heart. I don’t suppose you know anyone who fits that description?’
Poppy leaned forward, a gleam in her eyes. ‘Not off the top of my head, but maybe I could help you find her. We could load up some dating apps onto your phone. Go through the prospects together. It’d be great fun!’ Poppy looked around the shop. ‘Where’s your phone? Let’s put together a profile and get you out there.’ She leaned over to snatch up the phone lying at his side, groaning as Ben whipped it up before she could get her hands on it.
‘Let’s not, Poppy.’ Ben tucked the phone in his back pocket, well out of reach of Poppy’s grabby hands. ‘I know you’ll think me boring. Too traditional. But I like the idea of meeting a girl the old-fashioned way. Like, at a bar, or at the shops, or when I’m jogging in the park.’
‘You mean you want a romantic movie type meeting?’ Poppy stroked her chin and gazed into the distance. ‘Maybe I could go places with you and you could point out women that you like the look of and I could maybe throw you in front of them and make it looked like you tripped?’
Air-sucking frustration built in Ben’s chest. He had to shut this down. The last person he wanted to talk about love with was the only woman he’d ever fallen for. The one woman he’d had to work hard to get over. ‘You know, I could ask the same of you, Pops. You haven’t mentioned anyone, so I’m guessing there’s no man in your life?’
‘God, no.’ Poppy gagged. ‘No boyfriend. I don’t do boyfriends. At least, I don’t do the serious ones.’ Poppy visibly shuddered. ‘I’m always honest with any man who shows interest. I tell them I am in it for a fun time, not a long time. I tell them if I see a hint of their wanting more then I’m out.’
‘But why? What have you got against relationships?’ Ben set his fork down. Something was wrong. Off. He couldn’t believe that Poppy with her big, kind heart didn’t do relationships.
‘It’s quite simple. I don’t believe in them because I don’t believe in that kind of love.’ Poppy took a sip of her wine and set it down with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Stop looking so freaked out, it’s no big deal.’
‘No big deal? But you were just trying to get me dating. Marry me off. How can someone who doesn’t believe in love do that?’
‘I was just trying to inject some fun in your life, Ben. Not love. Besides, you’re the marrying type. The type who’d make it work even once what you thought was love died out. People do it all the time. They stay together for financial reasons. Or because they know no better. Or out of stubbornness. Not for love. Love is really just a bunch of hormones racing around your body that make you hook up with someone so that babies can be made and the human race gets to continue. Love’s really just a giant myth as far as I’m concerned. A fairy tale to keep you warm at night.’
Ben pushed his plate away, his appetite as existent as Poppy’s belief in happy-ever-afters. ‘How can you say it’s a myth? My mother and father have stuck it out through thick and thin for over thirty-five years. They’re proof that love exists.’
‘But that’s the thing. You just said it yourself. They’ve “stuck it out”. If love was real you wouldn’t have to stick it out. And it’s not like my parents are the best example. My father left before I was born. And my mother…’ Poppy paused as colour flooded her cheeks, and her eyes drifted to the window. The look in her juniper-green eyes was as dark as the night sky. ‘Well, she wasn’t the best role model.’
Ben wanted to ask why, but Poppy’s taut jaw told him she wasn’t about to elaborate. He checked the time on his watch. Nearly eleven. He had to be up in a few hours to get his morning swim and workout in. Needed that time to plan out his day. To figure out what had to be done, and the best way to do it. But he didn’t want to leave Poppy like this. All twisted and tortured by some aspect of her past that she clung to. That haunted her. He had to go, but before he did he wanted to see the sadness in Poppy’s eyes recede, to see them brighten once more.
‘You know, Pops, you may not believe in love, but I know you believe in friendship. And I probably should have said this when we decided… well, when we were kind of forced into business together. But I’m glad you’re back, Poppy. Really glad.’ Ben raised his cup. ‘To the rekindling of a beautiful relationship.’
Poppy’s jaw relaxed as she raised her cup. ‘To a beautiful friendship. One where I won’t have to worry about you going all lovey-dovey on me. The best kind.’ The shine returned to her eyes, as her ever-present inner light beat off the dark. ‘The only kind.’
‘Indeed. The only kind.’ Ben clinked his cup against Poppy’s and ignored the stab her words had brought to his gut. Indigestion. That was all it was. All it could possibly be.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_cda9d7b6-319f-5494-bf8d-5e05547b0d5a)
The sight of towering boxes, threatening to topple over, sent an army of ants marching through Poppy’s stomach.
There was so much to unpack. So much to set up. And such little time to do it.
Although the way the tower was teetering, there was a chance one floor-shuddering step would see her die under a box avalanche.
Death by unicorn.
How ironic would it be if her demise was caused by that which was meant to be the start of the rest of her life?
‘What was I thinking getting myself into this? I must be mad.’
Poppy’s lips quirked in amusement at Ben’s self-chastisement. He mustn’t have heard her arrive minutes before.
Connect automatic door chime.
Another thing to do on a list that seemed to get longer the closer they got to opening their joint venture.
‘I heard that,’ she called in a sing-song lilt. Her quirked lips spread into a cheek-stretching smile as a curse met her ears.
The sound of brisk footsteps on wooden floorboards told her Ben was on his way to apologise.
Bless his cotton socks. He’d always been too nice for his own good.
‘Sorry, Poppy. Didn’t hear you come in.’
Poppy turned to see Ben leaning against the doorway that led to the kitchen, his hands shoved deep into rust-red chinos that were as perfectly pressed as his blue and white checked short-sleeved collared shirt. Poppy glanced down at his brown leather loafers. Not a scuff in sight. Her tummy did a little flip-flop. Ben looked good. Better than good. The way he was dressed, the way his hair was just so, he could’ve come straight from a fashion shoot.
‘I didn’t know you were here.’ His cheeks pinked up, no doubt embarrassed to have been caught saying something that could potentially hurt someone’s feelings.
Such a Ben thing to do. He’d always cared. About everything. And everyone. Too much, as far as Poppy was concerned. He’d taken his only-child status seriously. Studying hard. Using his manners. Pleasing his parents in every way possible.
They were total opposites. Perhaps that’s why their friendship had worked. Perhaps that’s why even now after all these years – despite Ben’s apparent misgivings – they still worked.
Poppy grabbed a box cutter from her counter that had been put together then painted a soft lavender two days previously, and ran it along the taped lines of the box closest to her. One of about fifty. The contents within each needed to be unpacked and placed on the shelves in an eye-catching matter.
Not that the eye-catching part would be hard. The holographic, iridescent and glittery materials that made up so much of the stock would certainly draw people’s attention. But would it see them buy what she had to sell?
Yes. It would. It had to. She’d sunk the majority of the money she’d saved while travelling the world into this venture, and there was no way she was returning to her mother’s house, sparkly unicorn cap in hand, asking for a hot meal – or worse, for a bed to crash in until she got herself sorted out. Give her mother another chance to ignore her? To remind Poppy exactly how little her presence on this earth meant to her? Give her a chance to shut the door in her face as she had every time Poppy had come to her bedroom as a child, seeking comfort after a nightmare? That wasn’t going to happen.
‘You’re not going to give me grief for having a moment of second thought?’ Ben took a cautious step into the room. Then another. Until he was within swatting distance. Then sank down beside her, his eyes filled with caution.
Poppy shook her head. ‘’Course not. It’s normal to have freak-outs. I’m having about ten an hour. But every freak-out makes me more determined to make this work.’ She pulled out a tissue-covered package and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a crystal figurine: a unicorn, rearing up, its mane tossing in unseen wind, its horn sparkling with gold and silver glitter.
‘That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.’ Ben’s voice held equal awe and disgust.
Poppy set the figurine down, then punched Ben lightly on the arm. ‘Now that you have to apologise for. How can you say such a thing? That is the epitome of class and sophistication. Every person in Muswell Hill – no, in London – no, I mean England. No.’ She shook her head. ‘Every person in the world needs a crystal unicorn in their life. They could keep it on their car’s dashboard for luck. They could have it by their bedside to keep the nightmares away. They could sit it on their windowsill so the light refracts through it, creating a smile-inducing rainbow.’ Poppy ran her thumb over the gravelly surface of the glittering horn. She smiled as a fragment flaked onto her thumb. ‘Okay, it’s a little bit ugly. But there’s a market for it. Little girls will adore it.’
Ben shook his head, reached into the box, unwrapped another figurine and passed it to Poppy to set on the shelf. ‘Frankly I can’t believe there’s a market for any of it.’
Poppy snorted. ‘Well, at least one of us is going to be happy working next to the other. Not only will I get to be surrounded by the spirit-lifting goodness that are unicorns, I’ll also be able to help myself to a cup of matcha, or Lapsang Souchong, or plain old garden variety breakfast tea with a splash of milk, any time I feel like one. I’m going to be living the dream.’
‘Well at least one of us will be.’ Ben nudged her with his hip, then passed her another box to open. ‘At least I won’t have to go far to buy you a birthday present I know you’ll love.’
‘Oh, shush.’ Poppy lifted her finger to his lips. ‘You know I don’t do birthdays.’
Ben grinned, then took her finger in his hand. ‘We’ll see about that. Now, less talking, more unpacking.’
Poppy wiggled her finger free, grabbed the box cutter and sliced into another box, and pulled out a smaller box. Printed on the side of the plain brown packaging was an image of the unicorn mug held inside. The tail forming the mug’s handle, a swirled golden unicorn horn poked out opposite the handle, and painted on either side of the mug were big black eyes complete with lush, long glitter-dusted lashes.
She pulled up the box’s lid and lifted the mug out. ‘Where should we put this? It would look great next to those fancy double-walled glass teacups of yours…’
Ben held his hands up, as if warding her off. Her, or her unicorn mug. ‘No. No way. We have a deal, remember? Under no circumstances will I be allowing any of that… that uncouth frippery into my side of the business.’
‘Frippery?’ A giggle tumbled out of Poppy’s mouth. ‘Well that’s a new word to me. I like it. And, fine. I won’t put my mugs alongside your precious glassware. I was just testing the waters. Testing the boundaries. You know how I am.’
‘Indeed, I do.’ Ben sighed. ‘So, how do you feel about a tea tasting? Sophie and Joe should be here any minute, and I was going to hold a tasting for them since it’s important they know what they’re talking about.’
‘Hold on. Hold up. What? Joe’s doing the tasting? He’s my helper. Not yours.’ Poppy wagged her finger. ‘I will not have you seducing him with your aromatic ways.’
‘Plonker.’ Ben picked up the crystal unicorn, turned it over in his hands, then held it up to Poppy. ‘If Joe’s sick, and you’re unwell, who do you think will look after your shop?’
Understanding dawned on Poppy. ‘I would say you, but we both know you’d sooner take a dip in the boating lake at Ally Pally in the middle of winter.’
‘Exactly. We need to have Sophie and Joe up to speed on both sides of the shop.’
Ben turned and made his way to the kitchen, Poppy followed in his wake and took in the set-up he’d put together.
Five glass teapots sitting atop warmers, were placed on the bench. Each pot held a strainer, in which different teas were releasing tantalising aromas into the surrounding air. While various colours – grassy greens, vibrant pinks, and mahogany browns – softened as they blended out into the hot water.
The squeak of the door alerted them to the arrival of Sophie and Joe.
Attach door chimes and fix the squeak, Poppy reminded herself, trying to ignore the stepping up of her pulse as another item was added to her list.
‘We’re here,’ Joe announced. ‘On time, too. Look at us being responsible workers. Must mean we’re due a pay rise?’ He winked as Sophie closed her eyes, shaking her head in a long-suffering manner, just the way Poppy had seen Ben do all the time when they were younger.
‘Convince your grandfather to lower the rent by another fifteen per cent and it’s a deal,’ Poppy shot back. ‘In lieu of more money you can have free tea. Look at this spread Ben’s put on for us.’
‘Is it meant to smell like that?’ Joe’s nose wrinkled. ‘I mean, there’s fruity whiffs from that one.’ He pointed to the tea that was blossoming a pinky-red. ‘But that green one’s… weird.’
‘That green one is Japanese green tea. Sencha, to be precise.’ Ben lifted the pot and poured a little into three cups, then passed a cup to each of them. ‘Try it.’
Poppy tried not to laugh as Joe’s face screwed up when he lifted the cup to his lips and sipped. ‘It’s…’
‘Really something,’ Sophie piped up, then took another sip, smacking her lips together. ‘Fresh. Almost zesty.’
Poppy sipped the tea. ‘Kind of grassy, but not in a gross way. And almost… seaweed-ish? Or am I imagining that?’
‘No, you’re not imagining it.’ Ben nodded his approval. ‘It’s all that. And the reason it’s a nice kind of grassy is because it’s quality.’ He rounded up their empty glasses and rinsed them out. ‘Now try this.’ He poured the pinky concoction. ‘This is a fruit tea, also known as a tisane. Tell me what you taste.’
Joe took a sip. ‘Too easy. Strawberry. It’s yum.’
‘And?’ Ben raised an eyebrow.
‘There’s more?’ Sophie set her cup down and tapped her finger on her chin.
‘Apple.’ Poppy grinned. ‘Definitely apple.’
‘You really do have a good nose.’ Ben’s eyes widened. ‘Maybe you should be working on my side of the shop.’
‘Don’t know about my nose, but my eyes can see bits of apple drifting about in the infuser.’ Poppy set her cup down and ducked out of the way as Ben went to give her a friendly flick. ‘It is creamy though.’
‘That’s because it’s a strawberry and cream tisane. Or did you see the tin it came from?’ Ben went about rinsing the glasses fresh for the next tasting.
‘No. Just tasted it. Turns out my tongue’s quite talented.’ Heat rushed to Poppy’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the warmth of the tea. Beside her Joe and Sophie snorted into their closed fists, their faces matching the colour of the strawberry tea. Meanwhile Ben began to cough, his eyes filling with tears.
‘Omigod, I’m so sorry. That sounded…’
‘Filthy.’ Joe filled in the blank.
‘And hilarious,’ Sophie added. ‘Keep that up and I might enjoy working here.’
Poppy went to remind Sophie she was lucky to be here, that she and Ben were the only people willing to take her and Joe on, but held her tongue as the door squeaked, announcing a visitor to the store.
‘Hello?’ A voice as smooth as Ben’s tisane floated through the air to greet them. ‘Anyone there?’
‘Are you expecting another delivery?’ Ben asked as he straightened up and wiped his eyes.
‘No. I’ve got all I need. You?’
Ben shook his head as he put on a welcoming smile and marched into the main shop. ‘Welcome to Sparkle & Steep, what can we help you with today?’
Poppy trailed after him, and lounged against the doorway, curious to see who the visitor was.
The unexpected visitor turned to face Ben, a bright smile on her face. ‘Oh, this place is divine. A high-end tea shop? Genius. I love it. You’ve done a marvellous job, Ben. Now I hope you don’t mind my popping in unexpectedly, but my mother saw your mother and mentioned your shop was close to opening, so I simply had to come by, say hello, and have a sneak peek.’ The woman laid her perfectly manicured hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze.
There was something familiar about her, but Poppy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She clearly knew Ben, felt comfortable striking up a conversation with him, but she was dressed too… well, too much like Poppy to be someone he knew. Denim cut-off shorts, frayed at the bottom, were embroidered with multi-coloured flowers around the pockets. Her cream camisole was loose and billowy, yet sheer enough you could see her turquoise bra underneath.
Her hair was the perfect blonde. Not too white, not too yellow. Princess golden… just like…
‘Oh my God.’ Poppy took a step forward, her eyes wide, hand covering her mouth. ‘Milly? Is that you?’
Ben squinted in an effort to see what Poppy was seeing. Milly? His Milly? No. Surely not…
Oh hell. It was Milly. But the carefully curled blonde locks she’d sported when they were younger were now effortlessly beachy and tumbling down her back and over her bare shoulders. The formerly nude lips were now a bright red pout. And the smile was bright-white and straight. Milly Smith, his teenage girlfriend, had gotten her teeth straightened, possibly whitened, and had grown into a woman.
A beautiful one at that.
Bloody hell.
‘In the flesh.’ Milly grinned and did a quick shimmy.
Milly shimmied? When did Milly shimmy? She was a wallflower when they were young. Her idea of revealing clothing had been a skirt that sat on her knee. Or a boatneck top as opposed to a turtle neck.
Milly took another step into the shop, picked up the unicorn ornament and held it up to the light, sending a skittering of rainbows across the floor. ‘Interesting.’ She set it back down, her distaste obvious.
‘Shooting for a younger target market than you with that, I’m afraid.’ Poppy crossed the floor, swept up the ornament and placed it on a shelf. ‘Everything will be out by tomorrow when we open. Maybe you should pop back then and have a look?’
‘Oh, tomorrow’s out for me. Wall-to-wall meetings, I’m afraid.’ Milly turned her back on Poppy and focused on Ben. ‘That’s why I thought I’d come by today, say hello and wish you good luck.’
‘Oh, well, hello.’ Ben shifted from foot to foot, unnerved by the way Milly was looking at him, her smile spreading wider by the second, showing off those gleaming, straight teeth. Was this how a mouse felt when cornered by a cat? ‘Have you been visiting your mum just now?’
‘No, not today. Remember when I said I’d be round these parts? What I meant was that I’ve bought a place here. I was just over there while the movers dropped off my furniture. It’s so nice to settle down, lay some roots, have a place to call my own. Life can’t be all cocktails and dancing ’til dawn…’ Milly glanced over at Poppy, her upper lip curling in disdain.
Ben mashed his lips together as Poppy ripped into a box with her bare hands, her eyes murderous. He didn’t want to believe that Milly was taking a pot shot at Poppy’s lifestyle, but the two had never seen eye-to-eye when they were younger. Milly believed Poppy was a bad influence on Ben, whereas Poppy thought Milly far too boring to spend time on. Yet that hadn’t stopped Poppy from urging him to go out with Milly in the first place. Something he’d never quite figured out. One of the many Poppy mysteries he’d yet to uncover.
‘Oh, I absolutely know what you mean, Milly.’ Poppy’s tone was light enough, but Ben caught the taut, tense edge to it. ‘After seeing so many wonderful parts of the world, experiencing all the amazing things different countries and cultures have to offer, I’ve found it a real joy to come home and know that I’ll be waking up in the same bed, seeing the same sights, building a future for myself. One based on a solid foundation of knowing who I am, what I can do, and what my strengths are.’
A muted snort-cough caught Ben’s attention. Sophie and Joe were all but hanging off the doorframe, their eyes wide with glee as they watched the two women verbally spar.
This wouldn’t do, he decided. Not one bit. They had a lot to get done and they were due to open in less than fifteen hours. ‘Well, I’m glad you popped by, Milly. It’s been lovely to see you. I hate to cut your visit short, but as I’m sure you understand, we’ve a lot to get done before we flick that sign on the door there from “shut” to “open” tomorrow morning.’ Ben went to the door and opened it for Milly.
‘Absolutely, I understand. I know you’ve a lot on at the moment, Ben, but we should definitely catch up.’ Milly’s fingers curled around his bicep. ‘It’s been so long. I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been up to. There’s only so much that can be talked about, conveyed, over the phone. That job of yours must have been positively thrilling, far more exciting than my work as an editor-in-chief at a fashion magazine…’
Another snort-cough filled the air. This one from Poppy’s direction.
‘Er, I don’t know about thrilling, but I did meet some characters along the way.’ Ben glanced at the ruby-red talons that showed no sign of leaving his arm. When had Milly become so… un-Milly?
‘Well then, I’d love to hear about them. I’ll swing by in a few days’ time, once you’re all settled and up and running, and we’ll make a date, shall we?’ Milly stretched up and settled her lips on his cheek. He caught a whiff of some dark, exotic perfume. So different to the apple shampoo that had been her ever-present scent as a teenager.
‘Okay. Great. Well, have a good day, Milly.’ Ben waved her off and shut the door to a mixture of wolf whistles and kissy sounds.
‘Ben’s got a giiiiirlfriiiiiiend,’ Sophie and Joe sang in unison.
Ben touched his arm where Milly’s hand had been. Breathed in the potent perfume that still hung in the air. He looked over to Poppy to gauge her opinion. Her back was turned, hunched over, as she tore into another box, sending the polystyrene pieces within flying.
He tried to ignore the gnawing in his stomach that told him his life was about to get complicated. Complicated? Try downright problematic. With the opening of his business, the juggling of staff, and the rift between him and his father that if their lack of communication was anything to go by showed no signs of abating, the last thing he needed was Poppy vs Milly, round two.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_1be7f245-3a46-5fc8-8b9d-0962a92dec37)
Ben closed his eyes. Opened them again. Blinked hard. The bowl of creamy vanilla icing he had tucked under his arm threatened to tip over and spill its contents on their freshly cleaned floor.
Poppy mashed her lips together; she knew what was coming but couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t? More like didn’t want to. His face began to turn a violent shade of purple. Eruption coming in three… two… one…
‘You can’t seriously be wearing that on our first day of business. It’s completely ridiculous. Totally over the top. What will people think?’ Ben shoved the icing-covered spoon he was holding in the bowl and placed it on the counter.
Joe glanced down at his outfit. A snow-white fluffy onesie with a pink oval ‘belly’ front and centre. ‘What? You don’t like my uniform?’ He spun round, sending the golden tail attached to the onesie’s rear flying.
‘Uniform?’ Ben shook his head so hard Poppy half-worried that his brain would come flying out of his ears. ‘It’s not a uniform. That looks like the kind of pyjamas a three-year-old would wear.’
Poppy moved to stand beside Joe and pointed downwards. ‘Not true. Kids onesies tend to have feet as part of the pyjamas. Joe’s feet are bare.’
‘His feet are not bare. I can see with my own two eyes that he has unicorn scuffs on his feet. The slipper variety. He’s not ready to go to work. He’s ready to go to bed.’
‘You don’t like his slippers? But they’re so pretty.’
Joe raised his leg and angled his foot back and forth, displaying the purple fluffy scuffs threaded through with silver, a horn made from shiny golden material protruded from the centre of each slipper. ‘I’m with Poppy, they’re pretty. Pretty awesome.’
Ben’s nostrils flared as he huffed. ‘It’s not about whether I like them or not…’
‘You don’t. I can see it from the fuchsia colour of your face.’ Poppy grabbed hold of Joe’s tail and twirled the tail, burlesque style. ‘I’d go as far as to say they’re making you angry.’
‘They don’t make me angry. They’re slippers. It takes more than fairy tale footwear to irritate me. No, it’s just that I don’t think that uniform is appropriate for a business such as this. People will be coming to our shop expecting a certain sense of decorum… and, well…’ Ben’s lips mashed together. ‘More important than what others think… what if Joe gets too hot and passes out?’
Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and shifted from foot to foot, setting off a disco of lights embedded in her sunshine-yellow sneakers. ‘Nice tactic, making it all about Joe’s health and wellbeing rather than what others might think, but the thing is, Ben, I don’t think Joe could get hot enough to pass out, not when you insist on setting the temperature in here to freezing.’
‘It really is freezing.’ Joe mock-shivered. ‘So, actually, I’m almost cosy.’
‘And you know, Joe, I’m impressed with your commitment to the job. It’s inspiring. In fact, it’s got me tempted to wear this…’ Poppy strode over to a rack of clothing and pulled out a spaghetti-strapped silk nightgown covered in prancing miniature unicorns. ‘Although, if I were to wear this then Ben would have to pop the heating up.’
Ben’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ of horror. ‘You wouldn’t wear that? It would be—’
‘Too fun? Too casual?’ Poppy pulled the nightgown off the rack, held it up to her body and shimmied like Milly had the day before. ‘Likely to give one of your staid old customers a heart attack?’
‘Yes, exactly that. I can’t have people keeling over, it would give us bad press. Anyway, the temperature’s kept low so my customers can appreciate their tea. They’ll wrap their hands around the cups. Feel the heat infuse their bodies, their souls…’
‘Who knew Mr Business had a poetic heart?’ Poppy placed the nightgown back on the rack. ‘It’s lovely to know that you care about creating an experience for a bunch of strangers.’
‘Not strangers. Customers. Also, if it gets too warm in here the tea can go rancid. And I can’t afford to be throwing money down the drain.’ Ben checked his watch. ‘Look, the shop’s due to open in twenty minutes, and Sophie and I still have to get the tea-of-the-day steeping on the warmer, and the baking plated up and on the counter. Joe, wear what you want. Poppy, don’t you dare wear that tiny scrap of material you call a nightie. You’ll freeze to death.’
Poppy’s chest began to ache from holding the laughter in. She glanced at Joe, whose face had gone vermillion. One cheek was puffed out, like his tongue was literally pushed into it.
An irritated cluck from Ben sent her over the edge. The giggles she’d kept tamped down erupted, followed by guffaws from Ben’s direction.
‘Oh, Ben, we’re just teasing. Pulling your leg.’ Poppy bounded over and kissed his cheek. ‘I promise I won’t wear the nightgown. It’s not really my style anyway. And Joe’s onesie will only be coming out on Mondays – we’re doing unicorn story time for toddlers. We came up with it last night and posted it on our social media page. Thought it would be a good way for local mums to enjoy your tea and treats while we entertained their little ones.’
Ben’s chest deflated, his lips pursing. ‘Excellent idea, Poppy, Joe. But do you promise that this look will be for Mondays only?’
‘We promise.’ Poppy made a cross over her heart. ‘Although I’m totally getting one to wear at home.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’ Ben backed away towards the kitchen door. ‘Always have been.’
‘Yeah well, you’ll come to love this onesie. Heck, I bet you’ll end up buying one.’ Poppy smiled as Ben gave another vigorous head shake. ‘Now go finish up that icing and get that tea of yours brewing. It’s time to make our fortune.’
***
Poppy slumped onto the small wooden desk that occupied a corner of the tiny storeroom and rested her head on her arm. She rarely dealt with self-doubt – refused to as a means of self-preservation – but the numbers on the calculator, the money on the table, and the receipts from the sales were giving her a headache, and making her question how wise she’d been to think running a gift shop would be easy.
Sure, it had seemed simple enough on paper. She’d saved the money up so she’d be going in debt-free. Bought the stock. Made everything look as appealing as possible. She’d posted on Muswell Hill’s social media pages that Sparkle & Steep was opening, and within a day it had been shared. And shared. And shared some more. Gone viral, according to Joe. And the people had come.
Boy, had they come. In droves. People whisked in on their way to work or during their lunch break. Mothers with babies wrapped to their chests, and toddlers in hand, popped in, excited to see the latest arrival. Retirees poked their heads in, curious to see what had lain behind the store frontage that had been papered-over for the last two weeks.
The store’s chimes had bing-bonged all day long as people came to investigate the newest addition to Muswell Hill. Ben’s tea shop had been so busy he’d had to put on a second pot of the day’s trial tea within the first hour of opening, and both pots had been emptied and refilled by Sophie numerous times. Meanwhile Sparkle had been filled with squeals of delight and joyful sighs as people discovered her range of unicorn clothing, accessories and homeware. And the story-time session had been a hit, bolstering sales on both sides of the store, and ended with the mothers and fathers who’d brought their little ones along asking if it could be a daily occurrence, much to Ben’s chagrin.
Her till had beeped its way through the day, and now she had a bunch of numbers to make sense of. At least she didn’t have a store to tidy; Joe had taken care of that, bless his unicorn-shod feet.
A Ben-shaped shadow fell across the floor, followed by the man himself. ‘You look like I feel.’
Poppy pushed herself into a sitting position and cupped her chin in her hand. ‘I don’t think so. You don’t even have a hair out of place. I’m pretty sure mine’s so frizzy I’d be mistaken for an angel.’
She laughed as Ben’s forehead creased in confusion.
‘I call it the “black halo”.’ She indicated to the circumference of her head that had a tendency to boof out when she got all hot and bothered – which she had as the day wore on and she’d darted back and forth showcasing her wares to interested parties. ‘So, did your day go as well as I think it did?’
‘Better. I’m going to have to come in even earlier tomorrow to get more baking done. And I’ll need to call my tea supplier because at this rate I’ll be scraping the bottom of the tins by the end of the week.’ Ben rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘I knew this could work. I knew I wasn’t a fool to…’ The gleam in Ben’s eyes disappeared.
‘Someone called you a fool for opening your shop?’ Poppy didn’t need three guesses to figure out who. ‘It’s one thing for your father to not approve of your choice to open a shop, but he has no right to call you a fool. No right to try and control you.’ She pulled out the chair beside her and patted it.
Ben settled into the chair beside her, clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, tipping his chin so he was staring at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think he’s trying to control me. I just don’t think he can understand why I’d give up a solid career – a career our family has found success in for decades – on what he thinks is a whim.’
‘When you put it like that…’ Poppy spun the pen in front of her, faster and faster. ‘I must admit, I did wonder if you’d been hit on the head or something when you mentioned your plans to open a tea shop. Sure, you could bake as a kid. And the last couple of weeks I’ve tried enough of your creations to know they’re better than all the other baking I’ve ever tried – and I’ve tried a lot of baking. But you’ve never been one to take risks. To strike out on your own.’
Ben laughed, harsh and humourless. ‘Well, we can’t all be like you now, can we, Poppy? Not all of us are able to just give something a go, or leave someone behind, without thinking of the repercussions.’
Poppy didn’t miss the hint of hurt. Ben thought she’d not taken his feelings into consideration when she’d left, but she had. Big time. He was one of two very big reasons that she had to leave. In going she’d saved his heart from hurt and saved herself from hurting him. She’d hoped time and space would heal any wounds, but perhaps she’d been a fool to think that.
‘I’m sorry.’ She laid a hand on his forearm, her heart growing heavy when Ben flinched. ‘I know it was sudden, my leaving and all. But it wasn’t like I didn’t keep in touch.’
Ben turned his gaze on Poppy. His expression impassive, like he’d stopped caring. Or forced himself to. ‘I know. But just because you told me you were okay, that it was going well, it didn’t mean I didn’t worry. I did. Especially in the early stages of your travels.’
Poppy went to defend herself, to tell Ben she could handle herself – that she had handled herself – but Ben held up his hand, stopping her.
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Kellie Hailes
Life’s always better with a little bit of sparkle.Poppy and Ben have been best friends forever and now they’re embarking on a new adventure together – opening a joint unicorn gift shop and cafe. Ben has one rule; no unicorn paraphernalia is to cross into his tea shop. But Poppy has other ideas…They’ve always been there for each other, at least until Poppy went travelling around the world – without Ben. But now she’s back and she’s determined to stay put, bringing a little bit of magic back into Ben’s life.Can they go back to the way things once were or will the years of distance stand in the way of their new shop and blossoming romance?Readers love Kellie Hailes:‘a feel-good read powered by the magic of unicorns’‘'The Little Unicorn Gift Shop' is the perfect antidote to a rainy day.’‘I cannot recommend this book enough, I want to read it all over again - utterly divine!’‘a delightful, warm, tender and fun contemporary novel’‘a heart-warming read’
About the Author (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
KELLIE HAILES declared at the age of five that she was going write books when she grew up. It took a while for her to get there, with a career as a radio copywriter, freelance copywriter and web writer filling the dream-hole, until now. Kellie lives on an island-that’s-not-really-an-island in New Zealand with her patient husband, funny little human and neurotic cat. When the characters in her head aren’t dictating their story to her, she can be found taking short walks, eating good cheese and jonesing for her next coffee fix.
Also by Kellie Hailes (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises
The Big Little Festival
Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop
KELLIE HAILES
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Kellie Hailes 2018
Kellie Hailes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © August 2018 ISBN: 9780008301729
Version: 2018-07-13
Table of Contents
Cover (#u6919f228-bedd-5aab-a2b7-3147dfd11075)
About the Author (#u4a570c08-d1d1-590d-98f6-0e80043c5bde)
Also by Kellie Hailes (#u3f08921a-21a4-58af-9885-20a326e1bb40)
Title Page (#ub1719325-7b3f-5503-8251-7522a8c7e499)
Copyright (#uf3ddf885-b492-5842-b7f7-be77da227711)
Dedication (#u654fc7a7-1aea-5f69-bed1-a0f87e8af215)
Chapter 1 (#u57f5fc92-f74b-50ef-9f64-defb51fd29a3)
Chapter 2 (#uc5210ed5-fe30-5cfd-a78b-c31a121c3be5)
Chapter 3 (#u00cb6d08-d6c4-5697-abe0-9a39ccf58401)
Chapter 4 (#u919ffaaa-9d57-5769-b29e-2e5d5ca42d4f)
Chapter 5 (#ue08338dc-bab2-51ec-a666-c2b9adca65fd)
Chapter 6 (#ucda23815-31f0-5094-8892-17f06523bd5a)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Read on for a Sneak Peek at Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises… (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
For ‘The Manor Girls’. Friends, forever.
Chapter 1 (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
An ear-piercing trilling ripped Ben from the soundest sleep he’d had in weeks. His hand blindly scrambled round his bedside table, searching for his phone. Who could be calling at this time of night? He’d collapsed into bed just after midnight, so he knew it had to be late. He peeled open one eye. It was nowhere-near-dawn kind of late if the pitch-blackness in his room was anything to go by. Finding the phone, he squinted against the glare of the screen to see who would be so rude as to ring at such an ungodly hour.
His heart, already thumping from the shock of being yanked out of his sleep, ratcheted up to a worrying state.
Poppy.
Apprehension settled heavy in his stomach. If she was calling at this time of night it couldn’t be for any good reason.
He peered at the screen. Not a phone call, a video call. Well, that ruled out her being in prison, at least. He was pretty sure they still only allowed voice calls.
He glanced at the time. Just gone three. Which made it the afternoon, maybe, if she was still in New Zealand. Though knowing Poppy, she could have tired of the place and moved on to South America, where no doubt she’d be in a jungle hugging a tree in protest of it and its foliage-filled friends being cut down.
He swiped across and watched the internet decide whether it was going to connect him to her or not. A creased forehead and impatient stare gave him his answer.
‘Ben? You there? Ben? Can you hear me?’
Ben clicked the sound down and reminded himself to mute his phone before he went to sleep from now on. ‘I hear you, Poppy.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘Where are you? Are you okay? Are you in trouble? Do you need bail money?’
‘Of course I’m okay.’ Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not a teenager, Ben. You don’t have to keep me from getting into trouble anymore. Not that you could’ve if you wanted to. And bail money? Really? I’ve never been in that kind of trouble. God, dramatic much?’
‘Fair enough. Sorry, Pops, but when I get a call in the middle of the night I fear the worst.’ Ben folded his pillow in half and elbowed his way into a half-sitting position.
‘Fine. Whatever. And turn on your light. It’s weird talking to the black hole of Ben.’
‘Sorry. Forgot you couldn’t see me.’ Ben switched the phone to his other hand, then leaned over and flicked on the bedside lamp. Its golden glow illuminated the small space around him.
‘Geez, Ben, what’ve you been doing?’ Poppy’s hand covered her eyes, her fingers splitting apart to peek through at him. ‘Do you even work these days? Or do you spend all your waking hours at the gym?’
‘Huh?’ Ben peered at the square on the phone to see what Poppy was seeing. ‘Oh, God, sorry, Pops.’ He pulled the sheet up to his armpits. ‘There, all decent.’
Poppy’s hand fell down, a wide grin lifting her cheekbones high as strands of her black hair blew in front of her face. ‘Ugh, blimmin’ wind. It’s so cold I’m amazed my lips haven’t frozen together. I’ll be glad to come home to a bit of warmth.’
Ben straightened up in bed. Had he heard what he thought he’d heard? ‘Come home? What are you on about?’
‘Well, I’ve been travelling for over a decade now. It’s time I returned. I mean, look at this place. It’s freezing. My plane ticket’s all booked.’ She switched the phone’s camera around and moved it slowly, showing him a snow-covered mountain range that sloped down to a tumultuous grey-green sea, its waves crashing onto a beach smothered in time-smoothed stones.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Ben observed. ‘And it gets freezing here too, remember?’
The camera switched back to Poppy. ‘Yeah, but here is not home, and it’s time.’
‘And why are you telling me this, Poppy?’ Ben yawned, not bothering to hide his tiredness. He had a busy day at the office ahead of him tying up loose ends, and he had to make sure his finances were in order for when he viewed the shop he hoped to lease in three days’ time. ‘More importantly, can you make it quick? It’s beyond the middle of the night and I’ve got to get some sleep if I’m going to function like a human being tomorrow.’
‘Fine, fine, Mr Busy Pants.’ Poppy grinned. ‘I just need you to do me a favour and pick me up from Heathrow. I’ll send you through the details.’ She flapped a hand in his direction. ‘Now go back to sleep. Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.’ She blew a kiss and wiggled her fingers in goodbye, before signing off, leaving Ben staring at a Poppy-less screen.
Poppy Taylor was coming home.
An email alert popped up on his screen. He opened it and scanned the contents.
Not only was Poppy Taylor coming home, she was having him pick her up on the day he was meeting with his potential landlord. He worked out the time it would take to drive from Heathrow to Muswell Hill. He could do it. Just. Assuming traffic wasn’t awful.
You could just say no…
He untucked his pillow and settled back into bed. As if no was an option. No was never an option where Poppy was concerned. Even after all these years.
Chapter 2 (#ua7b73d92-efc6-509c-9a2a-bfa5718921af)
‘Excuse me.’ Poppy dodged and ducked her way through the throng of people squealing, hugging and, sometimes, crying into each other’s arms as family, friends and lovers arrived from their various destinations. Every few seconds she went on tiptoe to search the crowd waiting at arrivals for a familiar face. Not just a familiar face, a friendly one. ‘Where is he?’ she wondered aloud, as she hefted her bulging backpack a little higher to stop the waist belt further cutting into her hips.
‘Poppy?’
She spun round and found herself gazing into warm brown eyes. The very same pair that had greeted her when she’d poked her head through the hedge that had bordered their properties when they were four years old.
‘Ben.’ She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. The muscles she’d briefly viewed during their video call were no figment of her imagination. Ben was toned. ‘Now tell me…’ She pulled back and squeezed his biceps. ‘Where did these come from?’
Ben shrugged, a faint glow rising on his cheeks. ‘I swim at the gym every morning. Then do weights if I feel like it.’
‘All that on top of being a fancy pants lawyer?’ Poppy threaded her arm through Ben’s and let him lead her through the crowds. ‘Do you ever sleep?’
‘I do. When I’m not being woken in the middle of the night.’ He nudged her with his elbow. ‘Now can we up the pace? I’ve got a business meeting I have to get to.’
‘All work and no play makes Ben a—’
‘Makes Ben a late boy. And I can’t be. I’m opening a business. Well, I’m planning to. But I need to secure the premises first, and I think I’ve found the perfect spot.’
Poppy quickened her step as Ben pulled her through the busy airport, ducking out of the way of the dawdling travellers. ‘Business? What kind of business? And how do you plan on running a business when you’ve a day job and apparently one hot bod to maintain?’
Ben’s cheeks lost their blush as he propelled her to the carpark and towards a sleek, black Audi. ‘This is me.’ He opened the door for her, then strode to his side of the car and got in. ‘And I won’t be doing both jobs. I’m leaving law.’
‘You say that like it’s the end of the world.’ Poppy ran her hands over the seat’s buttery leather. Ben was leaving a job that had bought him this to set up a shop? And it sounded as though the thought of it was making him sick. Or perhaps it was the risk? Taking risks wasn’t Ben’s way. He’d always been the solid, dependable one. The one who made his parents proud… Ah. The green tinge to his skin suddenly made sense. Ben’s father was a lawyer. Ben had done as expected and followed his father into law. Leaving it couldn’t have been easy on Ben. And she’d have bet all of the worldly goods she owned, all that were tucked into the backpack Ben had placed into the boot of the car, that his father wouldn’t be making his defection easy on him.
‘Buckled up?’ Ben started the engine and focused on the backup mirror’s camera as he reversed out of the park.
Poppy relaxed into the seat and took a moment to inspect her old friend. Twelve years had changed him, and yet he was the same. Fine lines framing the outer corners of his eyes crinkled as he focused on the road. Time had seen the soft curves of his jawline and cheeks evaporate into sharp lengths. Yet, as always, his chin and cheeks were bare of stubble. Still, there was no denying Ben’s boyish good looks were there, albeit more… manly. Stronger. Defined. The kind that probably had women’s knees going a little – or a lot – wobbly when he walked past. Poppy patted her knees. Solid as two knobbly rocks. Ben may have been good to look at – better than good – but he was the serious, settling down type. And she wasn’t. Which made her interest in Ben strictly platonic.
‘Could you stop staring?’ The corners of his lips lifted up into a smile. ‘I feel like a bug under a microscope.’
Ben’s eyes flicked in her direction, then refocused on the road. Yep, between that smile and those eyes, and the rest of the Ben-shaped package, Poppy suspected Ben had more than his share of admirers.
‘Sorry, Ben the Bug, can’t help it. It’s been ages.’ Poppy stretched her legs, and circled her neck backwards then forwards to release the tension of being cooped up in a metal bird for so many hours. ‘You don’t do social media so I can’t stalk photos of you, and you haven’t picked up a video call from me in longer than I can remember, so I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time in forever.’
‘I didn’t pick up your calls because you call during work hours.’
‘I figured that, eventually. That’s why I called in the middle of the night. I knew you’d have to answer.’ Poppy unzipped her carry-on bag, found a tube of lip balm and applied it, smacking her lips together in satisfaction. She may have had years away from Ben, with minimal contact, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know him.
‘I could have had my phone turned off. Or on silent.’
Poppy grinned at his churlish tone. ‘Not the Ben I know. He’s far too responsible. If your parents needed you, or if work was to have some kind of emergency, I knew you’d need to be on hand to deal with it.’
‘Wow, you make me sound boring… and in need of a life.’ A frown sent lines sprawling across Ben’s forehead.
‘Don’t get all upset about it, Ben. I’m not saying you’re boring, or in need of a life. I just knew you’d answer, that’s all.’ Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her hands into her armpits. Since when had Ben become so touchy?
‘No, it’s not you. It’s the time. It’s later than I thought. And this driver in front of me is going at a snail’s pace.’ The car surged forward as Ben stepped on the accelerator and manoeuvred into the next lane.
Poppy released her hands and gripped onto the edges of the seat. ‘Steady on, Ben. No need to speed.’
‘I’m not.’ He flapped his hand at the speedometer. ‘There’s no way I’m going to get pulled over and make myself even later.’ He ran his hand through his short, sandy brown hair. The same cut he’d always had. Shorter on the sides, with a little length up top. ‘No, it’ll be fine. It has to be.’
‘Do you want me to call the landlord for you? Explain you’ll be late?’ Poppy held out her hand. ‘My phone’s dead. Give me yours.’
‘No, not a good idea. That’ll make me look like I’m unreliable. He might think I’ll be late with payments. I was hoping to have time to pop home and grab a fresh shirt, but I’ll just have to make do with the one I keep spare in the back. It’s not the exact right shade to go with the tie or jacket, but it’ll do. It’ll have to.’
Poppy bit a laugh back, sensing that giggling at Ben’s super-serious suit dilemma when he was this stressed would only inflame the situation.
‘And you’ll have to wait in the car before I drop you… wait, where am I dropping you?’ Ben’s eyebrow cocked as he glanced at her. ‘You never said. Are you staying at your mum’s house?’
Poppy’s stomach shrivelled. She took a deep breath as the unappetising meal of frittata and fruit salad they’d been served on the plane threatened to deboard. Stay with her mother? Not if she could help it. The plan was to keep her distance as long as possible. Why invite pain back into her life when she’d spent twelve years trying to keep it out? She waved the suggestion away. ‘No, not Mum’s. I’ve found a studio in Muswell Hill. And waiting is fine. I’ve nowhere to be. I’ll just work on my plans while you have your meeting.’
‘Plans? Since when has Poppy Taylor planned anything? You didn’t even plan leaving to head off overseas. You just took off.’
There was no missing the bitter edge to Ben’s words, but no way was Poppy going to explain why she left. Not to Ben of all people. The events that had led to her leaving were best left well alone.
‘I’m not eighteen anymore, Ben. Believe it or not, I’ve become rather good at planning and organising. You have to when you’re travelling. When you move around a lot. The thing is, you’re not the only one who’s planning on starting a business. I’ve one in mind, too. A gift shop, featuring all things unicorn. And I think Muswell Hill may well be the perfect place to set up shop.’
Ben’s lips quirked, then mashed together, then quirked up again.
‘What? You think I’m not serious? You don’t think I can?’ Poppy re-folded her arms, more to stop herself from punching Ben in the arm than to shield herself from his amused disbelief.
Ben’s chest rose and fell, his lips straightened out. ‘It’s not that I don’t think you can, I just didn’t expect you to say that. I mean a business is a lot of work. You can’t just flit in and out. You have to think ahead. You have to be serious. And, well, just how serious is a unicorn gift shop?’
‘It’s very serious. You wouldn’t know. You’ve spent your working life with your head in textbooks and papers and whatnot. Your lack of online presence alone tells me you’ve no idea about the explosion of unicorn everything. People love them. Not just kids either. Teens. People in their twenties. Thirties. Everyone. There are webpages dedicated to them. My social media feeds are dotted with random snaps of them. They’re huge. Which means my unicorn gift shop is going to draw crowds from all around, you’ll see.’ Poppy gave a definitive nod. Ben’s reaction only added fuel to her plans. He thought she was the same old flighty, fun Poppy? Well, he was going to find out otherwise. ‘Anyway, you never told me what business you were planning to open?’ Poppy gazed out at the window, her heart picking up pace as she took in the streets whizzing past. As familiar to her as the back of her hand, these were streets she’d roamed day and night, her mother giving her more freedom than any child should ever have. Freedom, when what she’d really wanted was love. To feel loved. To feel wanted. The only person who’d made her feel that way sat opposite her. But that was a long time ago. Things had changed.She had changed.
‘A gourmet tea shop.’ Ben expertly parallel parked outside a row of houses around the corner from the shops. ‘High-end teas sourced from around the globe. Delicious cakes. Slices. Biscuits.’
‘And who’ll be making these cakes and slices? You?’ Poppy released her seatbelt and got out of the car. She lifted her arms in a long stretch, breathed in the sun-warmed air, and allowed herself a small smile as she took in the terraced homes, many fronted by perfectly clipped hedges perched atop matching brick fences. So different to the wooden one-storeyed Sixties-style bungalows and Eighties-built style-free square boxes that had lined the street she’d flatted in last.
The slam of the car door brought her attention back to Ben, who was expertly knotting his tie.
‘Yes, me.’ He scooped up a suit jacket and shrugged it on, then buttoned it up. ‘I’ll be doing the baking.’
‘Really?’ Poppy released the stretch, then leaned against the car. ‘I know you were the king of Home Economics at school but baking at school is one thing – baking for business is another.’
‘And you’d know this how?’ Ben locked his car and started up the street.
‘Am I coming with you?’ Poppy trailed after him. ‘I thought I was to stay with the car.’
‘You can come for the walk if you want. I’d have thought you’d be tired of being stuck inside. Or you can stay here. Do what you want. I don’t care.’
He could say he didn’t care, but the squaring of his shoulders and the frostiness in his voice told her otherwise. Stupid, Poppy. She’d just pooh-poohed his business idea. Pooh-poohed him. It was one thing to listen to her horrid inner critic that always tried to make her second-guess her abilities, her worth, but she had no right to project that inner critic onto Ben. Not when she knew how determined and disciplined Ben could be. He could have taken night classes. Watched online tutorials. Done any number of things to learn how to bake for the masses, and she wouldn’t know. Their steady stream of communication when she’d first left had turned into a trickle over the years as Ben had become busier. His emails shorter. To the point. And, eventually, she’d got the point, Ben didn’t have time for her. Yet she’d still emailed on occasion, whenever she moved, just so someone at home knew where she was in case anything went wrong.
Poppy jogged a few steps to catch up with Ben. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m an idiot. I should know better. Whenever you put your mind to something you make it work. More than that, you succeed. You always have. I bet you could enter a baking competition on the telly and win. Easily.’
‘I bet I could too. And it’s not like I stopped baking once I left school. It’s been my stress relief for as long as I can remember. It also made me very popular at work when I brought in the previous night’s goods.’ Ben turned onto a bustling side street, dotted with shops that hadn’t been there when she left. A generic chain-store coffee shop, a designer clothing store, a store selling cutesy baby gear. She spotted the charity store where she’d got most of her wardrobe from as a youngster. Got? More like stolen. Hunching in the doorway in the middle of the night, rifling through bags left at the door, praying she wouldn’t be caught, not wanting to admit to anyone that her mother was too busy with her art and friends and gregarious lifestyle to be bothered to think her daughter might need clothes. To be bothered to think, or care, about her daughter at all.
Give big anonymous donation to store. Poppy added the thought to the top of her mental ‘to-do’ list.
Next to the charity store stood an empty shop, a ‘for lease’ sign hanging in its window. Was the sign a sign? Was that the shop she could set up her business in? Lightness infused her heart, dispersing the dread she hadn’t realised had been sitting dark and heavy. She’d take note of the number and call the shop’s owner once she was settled in her new place.
Ben crossed the street then stopped in front of the shop. Her shop. No, surely not. He wasn’t stealing her shop from underneath her, was he? Not that he knew it was her shop, but it had to be. She felt it deep down. The same way she’d known deep down that it was time to come home.
‘How do I look?’ He straightened his shoulders, ran his hand over his perfect-as-always hair and flashed her a winning smile.
‘Perfect. Is the shop around the corner? On the main road?’
‘No. It’s this one, right here.’ He angled his head towards the space. ‘It suits my budget, and the street’s busy, and close enough to the main street that people won’t be put off making a small detour to visit.’
‘You’ve thought it all out.’ Of course he had. That’s what Ben did. His life had been mapped out since he was young. He didn’t do anything without careful thought. The opposite of herself. She’d figured she’d come home, find a flat, nab herself a space, place an order for a bunch of cute unicorn product and watch the customers and money roll in. She’d not even thought about budgets, other than to have enough money in the bank to start the business.
The squeak of the front door snapped her out of her darkening mood. ‘Mr Evans? You’re on time. Excellent. I like that. You didn’t mention anything about bringing someone? No matter though. There’s not much to see, just the main space, the kitchen behind, and there’s a small office. But it’s always good to have a second opinion. Come in. Come in. Lovely to meet you, dear, I’m Monty Gilbert. Call me Monty.’
‘Actually, she was going to stay out—’ Ben went to correct the bespectacled gentleman who’d greeted him, but stopped as he was hustled inside.
Poppy gave him a ‘what can you do’ shrug, trailed inside and then stepped to the right, giving Ben some space to chat to the landlord and giving herself a moment to view the shop that would have been hers if Ben hadn’t seen it first.
It was beautiful. Perfect. Polished wooden floors gleamed under subtle downlights. One end of the shop was lined in redbrick, the other plastered and painted a barely-there cream. She could imagine white-painted shelves pushed up against it, filled with unicorn stationery – holographic pens, unicorn stickers, writing sets. Mugs from bombastic and brilliant to sweet and subtle. Stuffed unicorn toys could take pride of place in the corner, and a range of unicorn-printed clothing could hang from a rack by the far wall.
She glanced over at Ben and saw his eyes brighten as he took in the brick wall. She knew what he was seeing. She could see it too. Wooden shelving stained the colour of long-steeped black tea would be perfect against that red and would look marvellous holding tea-sets and tins of tea. And the ornate timber counter could easily be stained the same colour and would provide a striking centrepiece for the shop. It was the perfect space for his venture.
‘I must apologise, I was a little misleading in my advertisement.’ Monty shoved his hands in his brown corduroy pant pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. ‘You see my son told me I was asking too little rent for this space. I haven’t had to rent it out in years, you see. The only reason I’m renting it now is because the previous tenant passed, may she rest in peace, and I thought a little hike in the lease was fine. Turns out I was going to be doing myself no favours…’
‘Oh.’ Ben’s face stilled. His eyes narrowed. Was that panic flashing through them? Or had Poppy imagined it? ‘What kind of rent are you looking for?’
Monty paused, then uttered a number.
The colour drained from Ben’s face. ‘That’s twice what you were asking in the advertisement.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.’ Monty looked up as the door opened and two gangly teens walked in. A boy and a girl, both the same height, with hair the identical shade of auburn.
Fraternal twins, Poppy guessed.
‘Sophie, Joseph. Didn’t I tell you to wait outside if you saw I was with people?’ Monty folded his arms and fixed the twins with an irritated stare.
‘Sorry, Grandad. Forgot.’ The girl, Sophie, shrugged, then held up her hand and began inspecting her nails.
Monty’s chest rose and fell as a huff of irritation filled the room. ‘I’m so sorry for the intrusion, Mr Evans. Would you mind giving me a minute while I sort these two out, then send them on their way?’ His palms flipped up in a silent apology, before turning his attention to the twins. ‘So, how did the job search go?’ Monty’s pitch heightened with hope.
‘Nowhere.’ Sophie leaned against the counter, her petite nose wrinkling. ‘The job search went nowhere, right, Joe?’
Her brother nodded, his eyes fixed on the floorboards. ‘Nobody wants us.’
‘And we tried, Grandad, we really did.’ Sophie pulled out her phone and buried her nose in it.
Poppy grinned. Sure they’d tried. That explained the splodge of what looked like chocolate ice cream on Joseph’s shirt. And the leaf attached to the bottom of Sophie’s shoe. Grabbing ice cream and going for a walk through Queen’s Wood was hardly what she’d call a job search.
‘Well, you’ll have to try again tomorrow.’ Monty shook his head. ‘I can’t have you two underfoot all holidays. And I promised your parents we’d keep you busy, keep you out of mischief, until you decided what you wanted to do with your lives.’
An idea swirled in the back of Poppy’s mind. She may have found a way to launch both businesses, while getting onside of the landlord, who – if the look of despair on his face was anything to go by – had two charges on his hands that were going to drive him crazy if they weren’t kept busy.
‘How much did you say the rent was again?’ She made her way to stand beside Ben, hoping he’d go along with her idea. Provide a united front.
Monty repeated the price.
‘Would you consider shaving ten per cent off that, in exchange for hiring these two?’ She nodded at Sophie and Joe, whose mouths formed identical o’s, their aquamarine eyes widening in horror. Poppy suppressed a smile. ‘Because we’re going to need some help, Ben and I, if we’re going to open our shops in this space in couple of weeks’ time.’
‘Our shops?’ Ben shot Poppy a quizzical look.
‘Sparkle & Steep. That’s the name we agreed on, right?’ She raised her eyebrows, praying that Ben wouldn’t work against her.
‘Sparkle & Steep. Yes, that’s right.’ Ben nodded, his face free from emotion.
A bit shell-shocked, Poppy guessed. ‘You see, Monty, we are going to open a gourmet tea shop, and London’s most fabulous unicorn gift shop.’ She turned to her new employees. ‘Now, Sophie, Joe, I may as well be upfront about this. We can’t afford to pay much, I’m sorry, but being new and all there’s just not the money there for more than the living wage.’
‘That’s fine,’ Monty interrupted. ‘These two need work, and you’re offering it. It’ll keep them out of my hair, and keep them out of trouble. I’ve got the papers all drawn up out back. Take a look at them, and if all is in order, the shop’s yours. But the sooner you decide the better, I’ve another interested party keen to take a look. They should be here any minute, actually.’ Not waiting for an answer Monty turned and made his way through the door to the back room, leaving the two teens to huddle up in a murmur of mutters.
Ben pulled Poppy to the furthest corner. ‘What are you doing?’ he hissed. ‘Opening a store with me? That wasn’t the plan. And why’d you go and throw the twins into the deal? They clearly don’t want to work.’
‘First of all, you had your budget and this was out of it. I, too, have a budget.’ Poppy crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘And our budgets combined will make this work. Also, you’ll need help. And I’ll need help. And it’s clear to me that Monty is being driven round the bend by those two being under his feet. It all makes sense. I’d go so far as to say it’s meant to be.’ Poppy flashed Ben a thumbs up, along with an encouraging nod.
Monty returned in a rustle of paper and a hustle of feet. ‘Here you go. Here are the papers. Look over them. It’s all above board, but I want you to be happy.’
Poppy thrust her hand in Monty’s direction, and ignored Ben’s choke-cough. ‘No need for that. I trust you. We trust you. Consider us your new tenants.’
Chapter 3 (#ulink_c35f6524-9368-5fa8-bffd-b72c594e9e39)
Ben ran his eyes over the documents before him. Poppy may have been willing to sign away her life without checking things out first, but there was no way he was about to. Still, they looked fine to his professional eye. Everything was in order as Monty had said. But what was not in order, in fact what was highly out of order, was Poppy springing this on him without even considering his thoughts, his feelings.
Sharing a space with her? Not just a space, but a business space? This wasn’t like sharing a fake rock-pet as they had when they were young and neither set of parents had allowed them to own a puppy or kitten. This was their lives. Their livelihoods. And if the fate of the rock-pet was anything to go by, going into business with Poppy was not a good idea. She’d lost the darn thing between school and home three days into their deal to share it.
‘Didn’t see that coming, did ya?’ The girl – Sophie – nudged him with her elbow. ‘I’ve never seen someone look so green in my life. Do you need a bucket?’
‘Sophie, don’t be rude. That’s our boss you’re talking to.’ Her brother pulled Sophie away and gave Ben some breathing space.
Breathing space? He’d need more than the air in the shop to breathe after everything Poppy had just flung at him. He’d need a small country’s worth of air. Speaking of Poppy, where had she gone? ‘Poppy?’
‘I’m out the back. With you in a sec.’
The light tip-tap of excitable feet greeted him, followed by Poppy, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.
‘This place is perfect. The kitchen’s great. You’ll love it. The office is a little small, but I’m sure we can take turns in there to have our cups of tea when we’re on break, or eat our lunch, or whatever. Or we could squeeze in together if you don’t mind getting cuddly with me. The toilet could do with a scrub, but I think we can get Joe or Sophie to do that. Whoever’s annoying us most at any given time.’
‘We heard that,’ Sophie sniped over her shoulder, before turning back to her brother, who had his eyes glued on his phone, his fingers tapping away furiously.
‘You were meant to.’ Poppy’s smile didn’t falter. ‘It’s my not-so-subtle way of telling you not to annoy us. And to do that you need to do as you’re told, when you’re told, and to not walk around with that grimace on your face. You’ll scare off the customers.’ Ignoring the grunt from Sophie’s direction, Poppy focused on Ben. ‘So, Ben, have you signed the papers? Does it look good? Are you happy with everything? Do you think we could have this place up and running in a week or two?’
Ben set the papers down, closed his eyes and took a breath. This was too much, too fast. This was pure Poppy. All go, no slow. ‘Poppy.’ He opened his eyes and took her by the shoulders. ‘I’m not sure about this. You and me, running a business in the same room? It’s a recipe for disaster.’
‘Piffle.’ Poppy shook her head, sending her signature black braid swinging. ‘We used to make a great team. Aced all the school projects we did together. And sure, we got into a little trouble here and there…’
‘Because of you,’ Ben asserted, hoping to remind her that her past follies hadn’t been forgotten. Even if they had quickly been forgiven.
‘Yes, well, I was younger. Now I’m not. Look, I’ve got the money.’ She pulled out her phone and began swiping furiously. ‘I have an app that I can show you. I’ve been saving every penny I can for a couple of years now.’ She went to lift her phone, but Ben held up his hand, stopping her.
‘It’s not that I don’t think you have the money. You could get the money in a second, even if you didn’t. Your mother, your family, isn’t exactly poor…’
Poppy’s smile disappeared, the line of her jaw sharpened. Ben inwardly cursed himself. Poppy’s mother may have been a successful artist, and the family she came from may have been well off, but that didn’t mean Poppy was a pampered princess who was given everything her heart desired. His home had shared a wall with Poppy’s, and he’d heard the raised voices when she and her mother had argued, followed by the door slamming.
What had gone on at the Taylor household to cause so much friction, he had no idea; Poppy and her often red-rimmed eyes had refused to speak of it, but he knew enough to know that the relationship she had with her mother wasn’t the kind where you asked for money. Or, come to think of it, where you’d turn up on the doorstep after twelve years away expecting your old room back.
And maybe that meant he needed to put his misgivings on pause, to trust Poppy. For all her youthful transgressions she’d come home with a plan, with money to execute that plan, and she’d been the one to find a way to reduce the rent on the space, while hiring two helping hands who she had managed to wrangle into submission with just a few words and the lightest of warnings.
‘The thing is, Poppy, what do you know about running a business? It’s a big ask to expect me to just leap into this with you. There’s a lot of risk involved…’
‘And I know how much you hate taking risks, which is why I’m not making you take any. Like I said, I have the money. And while I’ve never owned a business I’ve worked in plenty. I’ve even been put in charge of a couple. Look, Ben. I’m offering a solution. The rent’s lower. We’ve got two people over there who, despite their surly and disinterested demeanours, I think could actually be quite helpful. More importantly, we’ve got each other. We can make anything work.’ Poppy took his hands in hers and gave them a shake. ‘Come on. Trust me. But trust me quick. Look outside.’
Ben twisted round to see a couple hanging around the shop’s front window, their noses all but pressed to the window.
‘Monty said it was ours, but if they’re willing to pay the full amount…’ Poppy let the sentence hang, her eyebrows raised.
Damn it. She was right. And he wanted this place. Had done since he saw the advertisement. The exposed bricks, the polished floorboards, the simple but chic décor. It was perfect for a gourmet tea shop. ‘Fine. Pass me the pen.’ He took in a deep breath as he scrawled his name, and prayed he wasn’t making a mistake.
‘Fantastic.’ Poppy scooped the papers up from under him. ‘Monty. We’re all signed up.’ She passed the papers to their new landlord then half-danced, half-skipped her way to the front door, opened it and flapped her hands at the would-be tenants. ‘Sorry, shop’s gone. Good luck with your search. Have a fab day.’ She twisted round and rubbed her hands together. ‘Right. What are we waiting for? We’ve got two shops to open. Sophie? Joe? Consider this your last day of freedom. Be here tomorrow morning at nine sharp.’ Poppy turned her attention back to Ben. ‘As for you and I, let’s get the keys and you can take me to my new abode, and we’ll nut things out there over a bottle of something yummy. My treat.’
***
‘Well, this wasn’t what I expected.’ Ben did a slow three-sixty as he took in Poppy’s new home, tucked away on the top floor of a terraced house that had been converted into flats. The open-plan living and dining area was on the small side, with just enough room for the two-seater couch, coffee table and dining suite. Through an open door he spotted a bed, and another door, which presumably led to the en-suite. Despite its cosiness, it was surprisingly elegant, with white-washed wooden floors throughout, walls painted in a soft grey, and the architraves and skirtings in a fresh white. ‘It must be a relief that you were able to rent it furnished.’ Ben ran his hand over the cream knotted throw that lay over the soft chestnut-coloured leather couch.
‘Yeah, well, I knew I wanted to hit the ground running when I arrived, so it just made sense to find a place that was all set up for me.’ Poppy grabbed the bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d picked up on their way home and cracked the lid. ‘Screw tops. How did we ever live without them?’
‘My father calls them the work of the devil.’ Ben rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and shook his head.
Poppy’s laughter filled the space, light and free. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ She sloshed the wine into two glasses and passed one to Ben. ‘So, what made you do such a U-turn? Upping and leaving a safe, secure job in order to start your own business venture? That’s not the Ben I grew up with. And, how is your father taking it?’
Ben swirled the wine round, creating a miniature maelstrom. He inwardly grimaced; it was the perfect symbol for the current state of his life. ‘He’s taking it as well as you’d expect. Dad can’t get his head around me wanting something other than what he wants for me, if that makes sense. All these years and we’ve shared the law. Bonded over it. Now… I’m doing what makes me happy. Pursuing a career that fills me with joy in here…’ He tapped his heart. ‘A career that excites me. I think Dad sees that as a betrayal. Hell, I know he does.’ He took a sip of wine, hoping to wash away the grief that had created a knot in his throat. ‘We’re not really talking right now. Mum’s trying to mediate, but…’
‘She’s wasting her time?’ Poppy moved to the small dining table and pushed aside the curtains, allowing the late afternoon light to spill into the room.
‘Something like that.’ Ben pulled out the chair opposite Poppy, sat down and closed his eyes against the sun, glad for the moment to rest, relax… and try and figure out what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.
‘“Why did I agree to this?” That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’
Ben opened his eyes to see the tip of Poppy’s tongue peeking out between her lips, a teasing smile lifting her lips.
‘I’m not going to screw this up, Ben. I promise. Sparkle & Steep is going to be amazing.’ Poppy took a sip of her wine and set the glass down. ‘It’ll be as brilliant as this view. Look at the view, Ben. Isn’t it brilliant?’
Ben turned to the window and saw a length of London sprawling before him, the cityscape rising tall and proud into a bright blue sky. ‘You’re right, it’s brilliant. God, I can’t believe you managed to find this place while living on the other side of the world.’
‘I’m lucky like that.’ Poppy grinned, her fingers rhythmically drumming on the table. ‘I’m also lucky to have you. You could have said no to me coming into the shop with you. You could have told me to stay in the car back there. You could have flat out refused to entertain the idea of going into business with me. But you didn’t. So, thank you.’
‘You’re not going to make me regret it, are you?’ Ben laid his hand over Poppy’s, stopping the incessant drumming.
‘No. I’m not. We’re going to prove your father wrong. More than that, we’re going to make him proud.’ Poppy lifted her glass. ‘To us. To Sparkle & Steep.’
Ben raised his glass to meet hers, then took a sip as was tradition. Making his father proud. Poppy made it seem so easy. So simple. But how did you make a man proud when you’d walked away from a profession that, for the men in his family, being part of was every bit a tradition as sipping your drink after proposing a toast?
‘Stop stewing, Ben.’ Poppy sprung up, crossed the room to where she’d dumped her backpack, then unclipped and rifled through it, sending a tattered lump of greyness, with a faded rainbow mane, falling to the floor.
Mr Flumpkins? Surely not? Had Poppy really carried the unicorn she’d found in Alexandra Park and – after being unable to find its owner – decided to adopt, around the world with her? She must’ve had him for twenty odd years by now.
‘Am I seeing things? Is that… Mr Flumpkins?’
Poppy hugged the soft toy to her chest. ‘It is. In the cosy, cuddly fluffy-ish flesh.’
Ben held his hand out, and Poppy passed the toy to him. ‘I can’t believe he’s still in one piece.’
‘Barely.’ Poppy continued rummaging through her bag. ‘He nearly lost his ear in an airport escalator a couple of years back. Fell out of my backpack, nearly got chomped, poor wee soul. Luckily a young girl snatched him up and gave him back before it was too late.’
‘I’m surprised she didn’t keep him for herself.’
‘Hardly. She told me I needed to chuck him and get myself a newer, prettier one. She liked the ice cream I bought her to say thanks well enough though. Ah, here’s what I’m looking for.’ She pulled out a shining, shimmering notebook, a pen threaded through its ringed spine. ‘We need to plan how we’re going to do this thing.’
Ben placed Mr Flumpkins on the windowsill and straightened up. Yes, a plan was needed. Big time. With a plan in place he’d feel less like he’d been shoved into a whirlwind and spat out again.
‘So…’ Poppy slid into the chair, opened the notebook and wrote the name she’d proposed at the top of a blank page. ‘I was thinking we could have multi-coloured chairs scattered around multi-coloured tables. Industrial style metal ones. They’ll look amazing. Also, unicorn-headed teaspoons. Oh, and I could get some of those cushions that are covered in sequins that can be brushed two ways to create different patterns so that the chairs are nice and comfy for those who want to sit and natter.’ She reached over and grabbed her mobile from its spot on the kitchen bench. ‘Find out where to get reversible sequin cushions,’ she said aloud as she typed the reminder into her phone. She set the phone down with a satisfied nod. ‘I’d sell them as well, of course. They’re fabulous.’
Ben blinked, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. So much for being spat out of the whirlwind. What was Poppy on about? Multi-coloured this and that? Sparkly cushions? That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t gourmet. It sounded like… a unicorn had eaten too many sweets and thrown up all over the place.
‘Nooooo. No. Uh-uh. This won’t do. This isn’t going to work.’ He pushed the chair back, and began to pace the width of the room, trying to get his thoughts in order.
‘What do you mean it won’t work? It has to. We’ve signed the lease. We’ve committed.’ Poppy tapped the end of the pen on the notebook. ‘I’ve seen some unicorn-themed clothing that I was planning to sell, but maybe we could find tea lovers’ apparel too? Cake lovers’ apparel? There must be some out there we could import, or we could create our own?’
Ben’s stomach swirled. Tea and cake-loving apparel? Where was the sophistication? The class? This wasn’t what he had in mind, not by a long shot. It was like Poppy thought that by sharing a space with him they were joining forces, going into business together. An inseparable team. Just like the old days. But this wasn’t the old days. They’d been separated for years now. Gone down different paths. And, if he were one hundred per cent honest with himself, while it was one thing to share a lease, he didn’t want to share his shop. Not with someone who could so easily pack up and pick up in the middle of the night without saying a word.
Fear froze his frenetic pacing. And what if she did that anyway? Even if their shops were separate, he’d be left with one surly teen, one disengaged one, and half a shop’s worth of lease.
Ben swallowed hard, pushing the lump that was threatening to choke him, to drown his dreams, out of the way. ‘Poppy. Ground rules. We need to set some.’
‘Ground rules?’ Poppy’s head angled, her brows drawing together. ‘What kind?’
‘First of all. You are not to leave in the middle of the night without warning.’
Poppy huffed and rolled her eyes. ‘I did it once. Years ago. I’m a grown woman, I’m not going to do that again. I wouldn’t do it to you. There’s too much riding on this. I get that.’
‘Which leads me to the next rule. We have to keep our businesses separate. We can share a space, share the lease, but under no circumstances is any of your… paraphernalia to enter my side of the shop. “Steep” is not to look like a fairy chundered in it. There will be no glitter. No sparkle. No tackiness. No unicorns. My side of the shop—’ he placed his hand on his chest to emphasise the point ‘—is to be a place of refinement. Where people who appreciate good tea will come and discover new flavours and broaden their tea horizons, all while enjoying delicious morsels.’
Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘How did you and I ever end up friends? You’re such a stick in the mud. And who says “morsels” anymore? Food, Ben. They’ll be coming to eat your food.’ Poppy placed her hands on her hips. ‘Honestly, I can’t believe you’re so anti-unicorn. I knew I should’ve set up a cat-themed shop instead. Cat cafes are big business. I went to one in New Zealand and there was something so centring about having a cat purring on your lap while you were sipping a flat white. Although when one decided my braid was a plaything that wasn’t so fun. Who knew getting a kitten out of your hair could be so difficult?’ Poppy’s braid swayed as she shook her head. ‘We could do it, you know. Adopt some cats and kittens. A gourmet tea shop with kittens running amuck sounds pretty fab.’
Ben forced himself not to rise to the bait. Poppy had always known how to press his buttons – had been amused by how he toed the line compared to her freedom-loving ways. She, more than anyone, knew he wouldn’t have time for the frivolity of kittens and cats skittering through a store, let alone time for cleaning up after them and maintaining their health.
‘What? You’re not going to tell me I’m being ridiculous?’ Poppy laughed, the sound brightening the room, as it had always done. ‘I was expecting you to give me that look of derision that I bet had people quailing in court.’
‘I wasn’t in court, Poppy. You know I worked in property law.’ Ben sat back down and took a long drink of his wine.
‘Well, you could have been. You could have changed directions, for all I knew. It’s not like you’ve bothered replying to the emails I’ve sent in the past year or so. Not with any news of substance. “I’m fine” does not an email make.’ Poppy crossed her arms and tucked her hands in her armpits.
Guilt swarmed in Ben’s gut. That was Poppy’s signature move when she was hurt, sad, upset or wanting to shut someone out. And he’d been the cause of it. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply all that much, or all that well. Life got busy. You know how things are. Or maybe you don’t… I don’t know.’
‘Of course you don’t know. You didn’t ask. Even when we were emailing on a sort-of regular basis you never asked questions about my life.’ Poppy sunk her top teeth into her bottom lip, then released them. ‘You probably thought my life was one great adventure. Swanning from country to country. Chasing summer. Sunbathing. Swimming. Being frivolous and free while you spent hours poring over papers and whatnot. The thing is, I worked, Ben. The whole time. Yes, I saw sights. Yes, I had a good time. But I also worked my arse off. It wasn’t one long holiday.’ Poppy’s jaw jutted out, just as it always did when she was holding back – trying to keep her emotions in check, trying to be brave. ‘Just because I choose to smile instead of scowl, choose to laugh instead of lift my lip and sneer at the world, it doesn’t mean I don’t have a serious bone in my body. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.’ Poppy untucked her arms, lifted her chin, and took a deep breath in. ‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m being an idiot. So, back to business…’ She picked up her pen, lowered her gaze to the page so he couldn’t see how she was feeling, and scrawled two short sentences.
‘No combining space. No combining anything.’
Poppy set the pen down on the paper with a slap. And just like that, Ben was a boy again, and the urge to make Poppy feel better was there. The need to reach out and run his hand down her braided rope of ebony hair. To hold her close. To tell her she was wonderful. She was enough. That despite whatever complicated things were happening in her life, in her head, that they could deal with it together. If she just let him in.
Except she wouldn’t. He was an idiot to think her time away travelling would have changed that. Changed her.
‘I know you didn’t just sunbathe your way round the world. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Poppy waved his apology away. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She looked up, a smile fixed on her face. One that didn’t chase away the shadows in her eyes. ‘If anything, I’m kicking myself. I should have expected this to happen. You’ve always been so paint by numbers. Knowing what you wanted, why you wanted it, and how you were going to get there. You’re the most organised person I know. Heck, I bet even your underwear drawer is colour-coded. Light to dark, from left to right. Or is it alphabetised by brand? Or arranged by occasion? Your day-to-day underwear would be at the top, followed by church underwear, because you’d be too respectful to wear anything threadbare or holey to church.’
‘I haven’t been to church since I moved out of home. I just went because it made Mum happy.’
‘But I bet you still go to St James’ every Christmas and Easter.’ Poppy raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it.
‘I do. With Mum.’ Ben nodded, not seeing any point in lying. ‘But I don’t have special church underwear.’
‘But I bet you’ve got dating underwear. The good stuff. Fits perfectly. Manly colours. Navy blue. Black. No tacky patterns. Although I did see some unicorn boxers that I could order for you if you wanted to shake things up…’
Ben waved Poppy’s suggestion away. ‘Not in a million years will I wear unicorn boxers. Or unicorn anything. And frankly, Poppy, I’m starting to think you’re far too interested in the contents of my underwear.’ Ben bit down on his tongue. What had he just said? He surely didn’t say ‘contents of my underwear’.
He glanced at Poppy who was doubled over, elbows on knees, her shoulders shaking as airy gasps filled the space between them.
‘I mean… not my underwear… my contents… er, I mean my drawers. I know you wouldn’t be interested in the contents of my…’ Shut up, Ben. God, what was going on with him? Usually he was calm, collected, in control of what came out of his mouth. But being in the same room as Poppy meant the words flew off his tongue as quickly as they came into his head. It was the Poppy-effect in full flight. Her presence had always left him a little unsteady. Off kilter. Hell, he never put a foot wrong when he was left to his own devices, but whenever she entered his sphere, since the day they met, he’d found himself in all sorts of harmless trouble. Nipping over to his neighbour’s house to relieve their tree of apples. Getting tipsy on cider Poppy had stolen from her mother’s fridge when they were fifteen. He’d been so ill the next day his parents had taken pity on him and decided the hangover was punishment enough. Life with Poppy was more interesting, but it also meant there was a huge chance things could go askew.
She could promise things were going to go smoothly all she wanted, but he only had the past to go by, and that made him nervous.
‘Oh God, you’re hilarious. You and your rules.’ Poppy straightened up and smoothed back the tendrils of hair that that had come loose from her braid to frame her face. ‘You were always one for them, but gosh, look at you now. So serious. So earnest. So much more… rule-y. What happened, Ben? You used to know how to have a bit of fun, but now…’ Poppy’s gaze started at his perfectly shone shoes, before she worked her way up to his suit pants, his suit jacket, lingered on the tie, then finished on his cut-just-that-day hair. ‘Now you’re all about looking perfect, and making everything perfect, and being perfect. What’s wrong with a little sparkle and shimmer and shine? What’s wrong with unicorns? They make people happy. They make people smile. Do you not want to be happy and smiley, Ben?’
Did he not want to be happy? Of course he did. But right now he had too much riding on the success of Steep. If he didn’t do well, if leaving his practice had been a mistake, he’d have to deal with the disapproval of his father for… well, probably ever. ‘Look, Poppy, I just want to make sure my business succeeds. And for that to happen “Steep” needs to be taken seriously, and unicorns don’t exactly project that mentality. It’s one thing to go halves in this space, but there needs to be separation. No sharing, no boundary crossing, you understand? “Sparkle” can shimmer and shine all it likes, but “Steep” needs to be as solid and dependable as a good cup of tea.’
Poppy rolled her eyes so hard Ben feared they were going to pop out of their sockets. ‘Fine. I understand. I’ll stick to your stupid rule, but I’ve got one rule you need to abide by.’
‘Really?’ Ben mashed his lips together to stop a smirk appearing. Poppy, the ultimate disregarder of rules, was going to set one? ‘What’s your rule?’
‘My rule is this – if you so much as look at one of my customers like they’re mad for loving unicorns, if you so much as make a snide remark, if I see a hint of side-eye when a man comes in and buys the unicorn underpants I plan on selling, then I’m out. I’ll give you plenty of time to find a person to take over my side of the space. Or enough time for you to see your bank manager, or whoever, and sort out your expanding into my side of the shop, but I won’t stick around. You take Steep seriously? Well, I take Sparkle every bit as seriously. My life savings are going into this, and I don’t have assets I can sell or people I can ask to help me should things falter. Which, they won’t.’
Ben nodded. ‘You’re right, they won’t. Because as much as I’m sure I could fill the space or figure out some alternative arrangement, I have neither the time nor the inclination. So, I guess that means I agree to your ridiculous rule.’
‘Good.’ Poppy held out her hand for Ben to shake and caught the edge of her wine glass, knocking it over, which saw it domino into his wine glass, sending a stream of wine over the table and onto the floor.
Please don’t be a sign. Ben shook his head in despair. Please don’t let it mean that ‘Sparkle & Steep’ is destined to become ‘Debacle & Weep’.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_f61785ea-48f3-578d-9ad4-1ffe8a3fa848)
Poppy clapped her hands, the sound bouncing off the bare walls. ‘Righto, you lot. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives. A grand day no less. A day that will go down in history as being the start of two of the most fabulous businesses London has ever seen.’ Poppy paused, and waited for a cheer of encouragement, or at the very least a grunt to show that she’d been heard. None came.
She’d successfully managed as a nanny to six-year-old triplets, you’d think she could hold the attention of two eighteen-year-olds, but no. Sophie was inspecting her nails. Joe had his eyes on that damn phone of his. And her business partner was clomp-clomp-clomping back and forth in the kitchen, muttering into his phone. Pausing every now and then to flick her the thumbs up. Why? She had no idea. But if it meant things were moving forward at a rapid pace she was happy for him to leave the teen wrangling to her.
‘Joe? Are you listening to anything that’s coming out of my mouth?’
No answer came. Right, then. Drastic measures were called for.
Stomping over to where he stood, Poppy plucked the phone out from his palm and marched it to the kitchen. Turning on the tap she threatened to douse it in water. ‘Don’t think I won’t,’ she warned. ‘We’re not paying you to spend hours looking at mindless gaming videos, or… half-naked women… or whatever it is that has so captured your imagination.’
‘Unicorns.’ Joe folded his arms across his chest and popped his hip out. ‘I was looking up unicorn suppliers with quick delivery times. I get the feeling you want things up and running soon as possible.’
Poppy glanced at the screen to see a wall of unicorn giftware. ‘Oh, I see. And how long do these sites you’ve found take?’ Poppy returned the phone to Joe. ‘And what’s the pricing like?’
Sophie shook her head. A disgusted puff of air escaping her lips. ‘Are you telling us you haven’t even sorted that out yet? Have you thought about storage? And getting things through customs?’
‘I’m not daft, you know. Of course I’ve got that worked out.’ Kind of. Poppy had known she’d have to figure that stuff out, she just hadn’t expected for things to race ahead at breakneck speed – but there was no way she was letting Sophie know that. If they got a hint she was flying by the seat of her pants, they’d try and take advantage. ‘But, it’s good to have fresh stock, different stock, and I really appreciate that you’ve taken an interest in my business, Joe. Nice work.’ She slapped Joe on the back, then motioned to Ben to hang up the phone as soon as he could. ‘Speaking of space. We need to decide who gets what.’
With a quick goodbye Ben shoved his phone in the back pocket of his navy pants and leaned against the door. ‘I was hoping…’
‘To have the side with the bricks? I agree. It will suit your vision.’ Poppy fisted her hands and placed them on her hips. ‘I’m happy with the other side. It’s lighter, brighter. And I was thinking I’d get some holographic tinsel and drape it down the windows on my side of the shop.’
‘Cooooooool,’ breathed Joe.
‘Oh, God. No.’ Sophie gagged.
‘I’m with Sophie.’ Ben shook his head so quickly Poppy wondered if he would sprain his neck.
‘What’s wrong with that? It’s my side of the shop, isn’t it? I can do what I want, can’t I?’ Poppy tucked her tongue into her cheek.
‘Poppy. No. I forbid it.’ Ben placed his hands on his hips, mirroring hers, his face growing pink. Then red. Then almost purple. ‘It will look beyond tacky. What will people think of the shop? Of my shop?’
‘They’ll think it’s a fun place to visit. That our shop is a warm, welcoming, engaging, and just a little bit magical, place to spend time in.’ Poppy reached for her braid and stroked it.
‘She’s having you on,’ Sophie said flatly. ‘Honestly, Ben, can’t you see that? You’d think you’d know when your girlfriend was having you on.’
Ben’s eyes went from Poppy’s straight face, to her hand on her braid. ‘Damn it, you’re right. Her hand is on her braid. That’s what she does when she’s telling a white lie. And she’s not my girlfriend.’
‘Really?’ Sophie’s bottom lip slackened with surprise. ‘I totally thought you were. You’re kind of cute together. Like an old married couple.’
The colour in Ben’s face had beaten a retreat from its purple shade, but still held a blush. ‘Well, we’re not. We’ve just known each other forever. Right, Poppy?’
‘Right.’ Poppy dragged her hand away from her braid. ‘Just friends. That’s all. And since you outed my joke, Sophie, you can work for Ben. I get the feeling you two will get along well. Joe, are you cool to work for me?’
‘Cool.’ Joe shoved his hands in his jean pockets with a nod. ‘Do I get a staff discount?’
‘Sure do. More than that, you can have whatever takes your fancy at cost.’
‘Awesome.’ Joe nodded his approval, then picked up the bucket of cleaning supplies Poppy had brought with her. ‘In that case, I’ll get onto it.’
Poppy flashed him a thumbs up, then turned to Ben. ‘That means Sophie’s yours.’
‘Good.’ Sophie nodded her approval. ‘I like tea. I can bake a bit. And I’m all class.’
‘And all ego,’ Joe muttered as he walked past them towards the kitchen.
‘Whatever.’ Sophie elbowed her brother.
‘Well, now that’s sorted…’ Ben took in the space that was to be his. ‘I’m going to stain that counter a dark brown and find shelving that can go up against the brick wall and stain it the same colour. How are you with a paint brush, Sophie?’
Sophie held her hands up, showing off her intricately designed nail polish. ‘Steadiest hands you’ve ever met.’
‘Excellent.’ Ben held his hand up for a high-five, which Sophie ignored with a shrivel of her nose.
‘Here, I’ve got you.’ Poppy’s palm met Ben’s. She tried not to show her surprise as something zippy and zappy ran its way up her arm and danced its way to her heart. Must’ve slapped his hand too hard. She shook her head and ignored the tingles warming her skin. ‘We’ve got this, Ben. And I promise no holographic tinsel in the windows, but fair warning, there will be holographic other things, glitter and gold, not to mention fluff and fur.’
‘What you’re saying is that if it’ll make a five-year-old girl squeal in delight, you’ll be buying it.’ Sophie lifted her lip in a sneer that matched Ben’s perfectly.
Poppy bit back a laugh. Those two were peas in a pod. Sophie was like Ben had been at that age. Serious. Sure of himself. Not one to suffer fools.
Then again, Ben had suffered Poppy their whole childhood. Putting up with her whimsical ideas and devil-may-care attitude.
The part of her that expected rejection from those closest to her – that had learnt to expect it thanks to the way she was shunned by her mother – had led Poppy to wonder why Ben had stuck with her through thick and thin… then the moment the answer had revealed itself, she’d upped and left London. Left Ben.
One heart-stopping moment with Ben. One heart-wrenching argument with her mother. And her life had changed course…
Poppy put on her imaginary blinkers. There was no point thinking about that night. The past was the past. This shop was her future.
She just had to hope that history didn’t repeat itself.
***
Ben heaved the last of the flatpack shelving into the shop, shut the door, then leaned against it, resting his tired muscles. ‘All those hours spent working out, you’d think unloading shelving would be a breeze. I might even be able to skip my morning workout.’
‘Don’t you dare.’ Poppy glanced up from the floor, where she’d been spreading out the takeaways she’d ordered for dinner. ‘If you mess with those muscles you’ll lose your female customers. Maybe even some of the gentlemen customers too.’
‘I don’t have any customers.’ Ben sank down and began piling rice onto a paper plate, topping it with chicken tikka masala.
‘Not yet. But you will. I can feel it in my bones. By the way, thanks for sourcing the shelving. It’s perfect. The white shelves will look utterly gorgeous on my side, and that wooden shelving will be lush once it’s stained. I found a company who’ll put it all together for us, so we can concentrate on getting the stock sorted.’
‘You mean you’re not going to force Joe and Sophie to put it together?’ Ben forked a spoonful of curry into his mouth and closed his eyes in appreciation. Rich, aromatic… and, most importantly, filling. They hadn’t stopped all day. Cleaning, sourcing products, nailing down the days and times that Joe and Sophie would be working, not to mention what their duties would be. It was tiring work. And there was still so much to do.
Poppy piled her plate high with prawn biryani. ‘There’s no way I’m letting them loose on the shelving. I want it to stand the test of time. And I don’t want to be forking out extra because they’ve not read the instructions properly and screwed it all together the wrong way round and not realised it until it’s too late. Those shelves aren’t the rescrewable type.’
Ben set his plate and fork down and took in the woman before him. The Poppy who’d left would’ve done exactly what she didn’t want Joe and Sophie to do. This Poppy though? She’d been full steam ahead all day, but there was a structure to her ways. And apart from when she’d suggested he make candy-floss cupcakes with little unicorn icing creatures sprinkled on top for any kids who came into the tea shop, he’d been on board with all her suggestions. Any lingering worries he had about opening his shop side-by-side with hers were beginning to evaporate.
Poppy crossed her legs and let out a sigh, her shoulders inching down. ‘God, it’s good to relax, finally. It’s been go-go-go all day. Heck, it’s been go-go-go since I decided to come home. We haven’t even had a proper catch up. We need to remedy that. So, Ben, tell me about your life. Is there anyone special who’s currently resenting you for spending all your spare hours with me at the shop? Has a pearl-clutcher finally scooped you up? Are you keeping her from me in case the Poppy-curse sees another potential wife bite the dust?’
‘You give yourself too much credit.’ Ben tore off a piece of naan and ran it through the gravy. ‘And what on earth is a pearl-clutcher?’
‘Really? You don’t know? A pearl-clutcher is your ideal woman. A woman who likes things to be done the correct way. Who can’t bare the idea of messing with tradition, of breaking the rules.’ Poppy’s hand flew to her throat. Her eyes widened in horror. ‘You’d never believe what I saw the other day. It was shocking, I tell you, shocking. Meredith from down the road put her milk bottle in the rubbish bin. Not the recycling bin. Can you believe it? Terrible. Has she no heart?’
‘Who’s Meredith?’ Ben reached for the bottle of red wine Poppy had placed on the floor along with two plastic cups and poured them each a half-glass. Enough to be enjoyed, but not enough to render them useless at work the next day. ‘And why do you care so much about what she does with rubbish?’
‘Meredith is your ideal woman. A bona fide pearl-clutcher. She is prim. She is proper. She is easily outraged. She would always recycle anything that could be recycled, and anyone who doesn’t is an ingrate, in Meredith’s opinion.’
‘Well, it’s nice that she cares so much.’ Ben took a sip, then set the glass down. ‘Do you recycle all that can be recycled, Poppy?’
‘Of course I do.’ Poppy shovelled a forkful of food into her mouth.
‘And would you be outraged if you saw someone flout your recycling rules?’ Ben covered his mouth with his hand so Poppy wouldn’t see the amusement that was threatening to make its way onto his lips.
Poppy nodded. Then shook her head. Then hastily swallowed. ‘Oh no you don’t, Ben. I will not have you insinuating that I’m a pearl-clutcher. No way. Not going to happen. The difference between me and a pearl-clutcher is that I wouldn’t get all vocal about seeing someone do something I consider outrageous.’
‘Really? I’d have thought you’d march up to them and give them a lecture about saving the environment one recyclable at a time. Kind of like you did to my mum when you were hell-bent on joining Greenpeace and doing everything you could to ensure the… how did you put it?’
Poppy shut her eyes and groaned. ‘“The health and safety of the earth and all its residents”. Are you ever going to let me forget that? And you can drop your hand, I know you’re laughing at me.’
Ben did as he was told, holding back a snort-laugh when Poppy flicked him the two-fingered salute. ‘Well you went through our rubbish and separated everything out and made Mum solemnly swear that she’d never let a recyclable into the bin again. It was the funniest thing. I think she fell a bit in love with you that day.’ That made two of us. Ben pushed the thought away. There was no point in entertaining feelings from the past. They’d gotten him nowhere then, they weren’t going to get him anywhere now. He had to get his brain off this thought track, and the best way to do that was to change the subject. ‘Interesting bracelet, Poppy. Where’d you get it?’
‘This old thing?’ Poppy held up a bronze chain filled with charms.
Amongst the collection, Ben spotted a koala, a rugby ball, a tiny pizza slice, a water buffalo. A random assortment, yet somehow on Poppy it worked.
‘It’s just how I keep track of where I’ve been. A charm for every town or country I’ve visited. And don’t try and distract me from our conversation, Ben. Let’s get back to you.’ Her bracelet jangled as she pointed in his direction. ‘Now, tell me, why isn’t there a Meredith in your life? To be honest I was surprised you and Milly didn’t get back together after I left. She was a Meredith all the way.’
‘Milly was a bit of a Meredith. Although she sounds like she’s loosened up.’ Ben folded the gravy through the rice.
‘“Sounds”? Are you two still in contact?’ Poppy picked up a napkin and wiped at a splodge of red gravy that had nestled in the groove of her mouth. ‘All gone?’
‘Not quite.’ Ben took the napkin and patted away another splodge that had landed on her chin, then passed the napkin back to Poppy. ‘You still eat like a starving animal.’
‘Habit of a lifetime.’ Poppy’s lips turned down in what looked like a frown, but in a blink of an eye it was gone, a smile in its place. ‘Anyway, back to Milly. I didn’t know you two still talked.’
‘It’s a recent thing. She called. Said she was going to be in the area. We’ve texted each other a bit.’ Ben gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Anyway, maybe I’m just not in the market for a pearl-clutching Meredith type of woman. Maybe I’d prefer a woman with a bit of fire in her belly. Someone fun, funny, not afraid to take a chance. Someone with a good heart. I don’t suppose you know anyone who fits that description?’
Poppy leaned forward, a gleam in her eyes. ‘Not off the top of my head, but maybe I could help you find her. We could load up some dating apps onto your phone. Go through the prospects together. It’d be great fun!’ Poppy looked around the shop. ‘Where’s your phone? Let’s put together a profile and get you out there.’ She leaned over to snatch up the phone lying at his side, groaning as Ben whipped it up before she could get her hands on it.
‘Let’s not, Poppy.’ Ben tucked the phone in his back pocket, well out of reach of Poppy’s grabby hands. ‘I know you’ll think me boring. Too traditional. But I like the idea of meeting a girl the old-fashioned way. Like, at a bar, or at the shops, or when I’m jogging in the park.’
‘You mean you want a romantic movie type meeting?’ Poppy stroked her chin and gazed into the distance. ‘Maybe I could go places with you and you could point out women that you like the look of and I could maybe throw you in front of them and make it looked like you tripped?’
Air-sucking frustration built in Ben’s chest. He had to shut this down. The last person he wanted to talk about love with was the only woman he’d ever fallen for. The one woman he’d had to work hard to get over. ‘You know, I could ask the same of you, Pops. You haven’t mentioned anyone, so I’m guessing there’s no man in your life?’
‘God, no.’ Poppy gagged. ‘No boyfriend. I don’t do boyfriends. At least, I don’t do the serious ones.’ Poppy visibly shuddered. ‘I’m always honest with any man who shows interest. I tell them I am in it for a fun time, not a long time. I tell them if I see a hint of their wanting more then I’m out.’
‘But why? What have you got against relationships?’ Ben set his fork down. Something was wrong. Off. He couldn’t believe that Poppy with her big, kind heart didn’t do relationships.
‘It’s quite simple. I don’t believe in them because I don’t believe in that kind of love.’ Poppy took a sip of her wine and set it down with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Stop looking so freaked out, it’s no big deal.’
‘No big deal? But you were just trying to get me dating. Marry me off. How can someone who doesn’t believe in love do that?’
‘I was just trying to inject some fun in your life, Ben. Not love. Besides, you’re the marrying type. The type who’d make it work even once what you thought was love died out. People do it all the time. They stay together for financial reasons. Or because they know no better. Or out of stubbornness. Not for love. Love is really just a bunch of hormones racing around your body that make you hook up with someone so that babies can be made and the human race gets to continue. Love’s really just a giant myth as far as I’m concerned. A fairy tale to keep you warm at night.’
Ben pushed his plate away, his appetite as existent as Poppy’s belief in happy-ever-afters. ‘How can you say it’s a myth? My mother and father have stuck it out through thick and thin for over thirty-five years. They’re proof that love exists.’
‘But that’s the thing. You just said it yourself. They’ve “stuck it out”. If love was real you wouldn’t have to stick it out. And it’s not like my parents are the best example. My father left before I was born. And my mother…’ Poppy paused as colour flooded her cheeks, and her eyes drifted to the window. The look in her juniper-green eyes was as dark as the night sky. ‘Well, she wasn’t the best role model.’
Ben wanted to ask why, but Poppy’s taut jaw told him she wasn’t about to elaborate. He checked the time on his watch. Nearly eleven. He had to be up in a few hours to get his morning swim and workout in. Needed that time to plan out his day. To figure out what had to be done, and the best way to do it. But he didn’t want to leave Poppy like this. All twisted and tortured by some aspect of her past that she clung to. That haunted her. He had to go, but before he did he wanted to see the sadness in Poppy’s eyes recede, to see them brighten once more.
‘You know, Pops, you may not believe in love, but I know you believe in friendship. And I probably should have said this when we decided… well, when we were kind of forced into business together. But I’m glad you’re back, Poppy. Really glad.’ Ben raised his cup. ‘To the rekindling of a beautiful relationship.’
Poppy’s jaw relaxed as she raised her cup. ‘To a beautiful friendship. One where I won’t have to worry about you going all lovey-dovey on me. The best kind.’ The shine returned to her eyes, as her ever-present inner light beat off the dark. ‘The only kind.’
‘Indeed. The only kind.’ Ben clinked his cup against Poppy’s and ignored the stab her words had brought to his gut. Indigestion. That was all it was. All it could possibly be.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_cda9d7b6-319f-5494-bf8d-5e05547b0d5a)
The sight of towering boxes, threatening to topple over, sent an army of ants marching through Poppy’s stomach.
There was so much to unpack. So much to set up. And such little time to do it.
Although the way the tower was teetering, there was a chance one floor-shuddering step would see her die under a box avalanche.
Death by unicorn.
How ironic would it be if her demise was caused by that which was meant to be the start of the rest of her life?
‘What was I thinking getting myself into this? I must be mad.’
Poppy’s lips quirked in amusement at Ben’s self-chastisement. He mustn’t have heard her arrive minutes before.
Connect automatic door chime.
Another thing to do on a list that seemed to get longer the closer they got to opening their joint venture.
‘I heard that,’ she called in a sing-song lilt. Her quirked lips spread into a cheek-stretching smile as a curse met her ears.
The sound of brisk footsteps on wooden floorboards told her Ben was on his way to apologise.
Bless his cotton socks. He’d always been too nice for his own good.
‘Sorry, Poppy. Didn’t hear you come in.’
Poppy turned to see Ben leaning against the doorway that led to the kitchen, his hands shoved deep into rust-red chinos that were as perfectly pressed as his blue and white checked short-sleeved collared shirt. Poppy glanced down at his brown leather loafers. Not a scuff in sight. Her tummy did a little flip-flop. Ben looked good. Better than good. The way he was dressed, the way his hair was just so, he could’ve come straight from a fashion shoot.
‘I didn’t know you were here.’ His cheeks pinked up, no doubt embarrassed to have been caught saying something that could potentially hurt someone’s feelings.
Such a Ben thing to do. He’d always cared. About everything. And everyone. Too much, as far as Poppy was concerned. He’d taken his only-child status seriously. Studying hard. Using his manners. Pleasing his parents in every way possible.
They were total opposites. Perhaps that’s why their friendship had worked. Perhaps that’s why even now after all these years – despite Ben’s apparent misgivings – they still worked.
Poppy grabbed a box cutter from her counter that had been put together then painted a soft lavender two days previously, and ran it along the taped lines of the box closest to her. One of about fifty. The contents within each needed to be unpacked and placed on the shelves in an eye-catching matter.
Not that the eye-catching part would be hard. The holographic, iridescent and glittery materials that made up so much of the stock would certainly draw people’s attention. But would it see them buy what she had to sell?
Yes. It would. It had to. She’d sunk the majority of the money she’d saved while travelling the world into this venture, and there was no way she was returning to her mother’s house, sparkly unicorn cap in hand, asking for a hot meal – or worse, for a bed to crash in until she got herself sorted out. Give her mother another chance to ignore her? To remind Poppy exactly how little her presence on this earth meant to her? Give her a chance to shut the door in her face as she had every time Poppy had come to her bedroom as a child, seeking comfort after a nightmare? That wasn’t going to happen.
‘You’re not going to give me grief for having a moment of second thought?’ Ben took a cautious step into the room. Then another. Until he was within swatting distance. Then sank down beside her, his eyes filled with caution.
Poppy shook her head. ‘’Course not. It’s normal to have freak-outs. I’m having about ten an hour. But every freak-out makes me more determined to make this work.’ She pulled out a tissue-covered package and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a crystal figurine: a unicorn, rearing up, its mane tossing in unseen wind, its horn sparkling with gold and silver glitter.
‘That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.’ Ben’s voice held equal awe and disgust.
Poppy set the figurine down, then punched Ben lightly on the arm. ‘Now that you have to apologise for. How can you say such a thing? That is the epitome of class and sophistication. Every person in Muswell Hill – no, in London – no, I mean England. No.’ She shook her head. ‘Every person in the world needs a crystal unicorn in their life. They could keep it on their car’s dashboard for luck. They could have it by their bedside to keep the nightmares away. They could sit it on their windowsill so the light refracts through it, creating a smile-inducing rainbow.’ Poppy ran her thumb over the gravelly surface of the glittering horn. She smiled as a fragment flaked onto her thumb. ‘Okay, it’s a little bit ugly. But there’s a market for it. Little girls will adore it.’
Ben shook his head, reached into the box, unwrapped another figurine and passed it to Poppy to set on the shelf. ‘Frankly I can’t believe there’s a market for any of it.’
Poppy snorted. ‘Well, at least one of us is going to be happy working next to the other. Not only will I get to be surrounded by the spirit-lifting goodness that are unicorns, I’ll also be able to help myself to a cup of matcha, or Lapsang Souchong, or plain old garden variety breakfast tea with a splash of milk, any time I feel like one. I’m going to be living the dream.’
‘Well at least one of us will be.’ Ben nudged her with his hip, then passed her another box to open. ‘At least I won’t have to go far to buy you a birthday present I know you’ll love.’
‘Oh, shush.’ Poppy lifted her finger to his lips. ‘You know I don’t do birthdays.’
Ben grinned, then took her finger in his hand. ‘We’ll see about that. Now, less talking, more unpacking.’
Poppy wiggled her finger free, grabbed the box cutter and sliced into another box, and pulled out a smaller box. Printed on the side of the plain brown packaging was an image of the unicorn mug held inside. The tail forming the mug’s handle, a swirled golden unicorn horn poked out opposite the handle, and painted on either side of the mug were big black eyes complete with lush, long glitter-dusted lashes.
She pulled up the box’s lid and lifted the mug out. ‘Where should we put this? It would look great next to those fancy double-walled glass teacups of yours…’
Ben held his hands up, as if warding her off. Her, or her unicorn mug. ‘No. No way. We have a deal, remember? Under no circumstances will I be allowing any of that… that uncouth frippery into my side of the business.’
‘Frippery?’ A giggle tumbled out of Poppy’s mouth. ‘Well that’s a new word to me. I like it. And, fine. I won’t put my mugs alongside your precious glassware. I was just testing the waters. Testing the boundaries. You know how I am.’
‘Indeed, I do.’ Ben sighed. ‘So, how do you feel about a tea tasting? Sophie and Joe should be here any minute, and I was going to hold a tasting for them since it’s important they know what they’re talking about.’
‘Hold on. Hold up. What? Joe’s doing the tasting? He’s my helper. Not yours.’ Poppy wagged her finger. ‘I will not have you seducing him with your aromatic ways.’
‘Plonker.’ Ben picked up the crystal unicorn, turned it over in his hands, then held it up to Poppy. ‘If Joe’s sick, and you’re unwell, who do you think will look after your shop?’
Understanding dawned on Poppy. ‘I would say you, but we both know you’d sooner take a dip in the boating lake at Ally Pally in the middle of winter.’
‘Exactly. We need to have Sophie and Joe up to speed on both sides of the shop.’
Ben turned and made his way to the kitchen, Poppy followed in his wake and took in the set-up he’d put together.
Five glass teapots sitting atop warmers, were placed on the bench. Each pot held a strainer, in which different teas were releasing tantalising aromas into the surrounding air. While various colours – grassy greens, vibrant pinks, and mahogany browns – softened as they blended out into the hot water.
The squeak of the door alerted them to the arrival of Sophie and Joe.
Attach door chimes and fix the squeak, Poppy reminded herself, trying to ignore the stepping up of her pulse as another item was added to her list.
‘We’re here,’ Joe announced. ‘On time, too. Look at us being responsible workers. Must mean we’re due a pay rise?’ He winked as Sophie closed her eyes, shaking her head in a long-suffering manner, just the way Poppy had seen Ben do all the time when they were younger.
‘Convince your grandfather to lower the rent by another fifteen per cent and it’s a deal,’ Poppy shot back. ‘In lieu of more money you can have free tea. Look at this spread Ben’s put on for us.’
‘Is it meant to smell like that?’ Joe’s nose wrinkled. ‘I mean, there’s fruity whiffs from that one.’ He pointed to the tea that was blossoming a pinky-red. ‘But that green one’s… weird.’
‘That green one is Japanese green tea. Sencha, to be precise.’ Ben lifted the pot and poured a little into three cups, then passed a cup to each of them. ‘Try it.’
Poppy tried not to laugh as Joe’s face screwed up when he lifted the cup to his lips and sipped. ‘It’s…’
‘Really something,’ Sophie piped up, then took another sip, smacking her lips together. ‘Fresh. Almost zesty.’
Poppy sipped the tea. ‘Kind of grassy, but not in a gross way. And almost… seaweed-ish? Or am I imagining that?’
‘No, you’re not imagining it.’ Ben nodded his approval. ‘It’s all that. And the reason it’s a nice kind of grassy is because it’s quality.’ He rounded up their empty glasses and rinsed them out. ‘Now try this.’ He poured the pinky concoction. ‘This is a fruit tea, also known as a tisane. Tell me what you taste.’
Joe took a sip. ‘Too easy. Strawberry. It’s yum.’
‘And?’ Ben raised an eyebrow.
‘There’s more?’ Sophie set her cup down and tapped her finger on her chin.
‘Apple.’ Poppy grinned. ‘Definitely apple.’
‘You really do have a good nose.’ Ben’s eyes widened. ‘Maybe you should be working on my side of the shop.’
‘Don’t know about my nose, but my eyes can see bits of apple drifting about in the infuser.’ Poppy set her cup down and ducked out of the way as Ben went to give her a friendly flick. ‘It is creamy though.’
‘That’s because it’s a strawberry and cream tisane. Or did you see the tin it came from?’ Ben went about rinsing the glasses fresh for the next tasting.
‘No. Just tasted it. Turns out my tongue’s quite talented.’ Heat rushed to Poppy’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the warmth of the tea. Beside her Joe and Sophie snorted into their closed fists, their faces matching the colour of the strawberry tea. Meanwhile Ben began to cough, his eyes filling with tears.
‘Omigod, I’m so sorry. That sounded…’
‘Filthy.’ Joe filled in the blank.
‘And hilarious,’ Sophie added. ‘Keep that up and I might enjoy working here.’
Poppy went to remind Sophie she was lucky to be here, that she and Ben were the only people willing to take her and Joe on, but held her tongue as the door squeaked, announcing a visitor to the store.
‘Hello?’ A voice as smooth as Ben’s tisane floated through the air to greet them. ‘Anyone there?’
‘Are you expecting another delivery?’ Ben asked as he straightened up and wiped his eyes.
‘No. I’ve got all I need. You?’
Ben shook his head as he put on a welcoming smile and marched into the main shop. ‘Welcome to Sparkle & Steep, what can we help you with today?’
Poppy trailed after him, and lounged against the doorway, curious to see who the visitor was.
The unexpected visitor turned to face Ben, a bright smile on her face. ‘Oh, this place is divine. A high-end tea shop? Genius. I love it. You’ve done a marvellous job, Ben. Now I hope you don’t mind my popping in unexpectedly, but my mother saw your mother and mentioned your shop was close to opening, so I simply had to come by, say hello, and have a sneak peek.’ The woman laid her perfectly manicured hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze.
There was something familiar about her, but Poppy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She clearly knew Ben, felt comfortable striking up a conversation with him, but she was dressed too… well, too much like Poppy to be someone he knew. Denim cut-off shorts, frayed at the bottom, were embroidered with multi-coloured flowers around the pockets. Her cream camisole was loose and billowy, yet sheer enough you could see her turquoise bra underneath.
Her hair was the perfect blonde. Not too white, not too yellow. Princess golden… just like…
‘Oh my God.’ Poppy took a step forward, her eyes wide, hand covering her mouth. ‘Milly? Is that you?’
Ben squinted in an effort to see what Poppy was seeing. Milly? His Milly? No. Surely not…
Oh hell. It was Milly. But the carefully curled blonde locks she’d sported when they were younger were now effortlessly beachy and tumbling down her back and over her bare shoulders. The formerly nude lips were now a bright red pout. And the smile was bright-white and straight. Milly Smith, his teenage girlfriend, had gotten her teeth straightened, possibly whitened, and had grown into a woman.
A beautiful one at that.
Bloody hell.
‘In the flesh.’ Milly grinned and did a quick shimmy.
Milly shimmied? When did Milly shimmy? She was a wallflower when they were young. Her idea of revealing clothing had been a skirt that sat on her knee. Or a boatneck top as opposed to a turtle neck.
Milly took another step into the shop, picked up the unicorn ornament and held it up to the light, sending a skittering of rainbows across the floor. ‘Interesting.’ She set it back down, her distaste obvious.
‘Shooting for a younger target market than you with that, I’m afraid.’ Poppy crossed the floor, swept up the ornament and placed it on a shelf. ‘Everything will be out by tomorrow when we open. Maybe you should pop back then and have a look?’
‘Oh, tomorrow’s out for me. Wall-to-wall meetings, I’m afraid.’ Milly turned her back on Poppy and focused on Ben. ‘That’s why I thought I’d come by today, say hello and wish you good luck.’
‘Oh, well, hello.’ Ben shifted from foot to foot, unnerved by the way Milly was looking at him, her smile spreading wider by the second, showing off those gleaming, straight teeth. Was this how a mouse felt when cornered by a cat? ‘Have you been visiting your mum just now?’
‘No, not today. Remember when I said I’d be round these parts? What I meant was that I’ve bought a place here. I was just over there while the movers dropped off my furniture. It’s so nice to settle down, lay some roots, have a place to call my own. Life can’t be all cocktails and dancing ’til dawn…’ Milly glanced over at Poppy, her upper lip curling in disdain.
Ben mashed his lips together as Poppy ripped into a box with her bare hands, her eyes murderous. He didn’t want to believe that Milly was taking a pot shot at Poppy’s lifestyle, but the two had never seen eye-to-eye when they were younger. Milly believed Poppy was a bad influence on Ben, whereas Poppy thought Milly far too boring to spend time on. Yet that hadn’t stopped Poppy from urging him to go out with Milly in the first place. Something he’d never quite figured out. One of the many Poppy mysteries he’d yet to uncover.
‘Oh, I absolutely know what you mean, Milly.’ Poppy’s tone was light enough, but Ben caught the taut, tense edge to it. ‘After seeing so many wonderful parts of the world, experiencing all the amazing things different countries and cultures have to offer, I’ve found it a real joy to come home and know that I’ll be waking up in the same bed, seeing the same sights, building a future for myself. One based on a solid foundation of knowing who I am, what I can do, and what my strengths are.’
A muted snort-cough caught Ben’s attention. Sophie and Joe were all but hanging off the doorframe, their eyes wide with glee as they watched the two women verbally spar.
This wouldn’t do, he decided. Not one bit. They had a lot to get done and they were due to open in less than fifteen hours. ‘Well, I’m glad you popped by, Milly. It’s been lovely to see you. I hate to cut your visit short, but as I’m sure you understand, we’ve a lot to get done before we flick that sign on the door there from “shut” to “open” tomorrow morning.’ Ben went to the door and opened it for Milly.
‘Absolutely, I understand. I know you’ve a lot on at the moment, Ben, but we should definitely catch up.’ Milly’s fingers curled around his bicep. ‘It’s been so long. I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been up to. There’s only so much that can be talked about, conveyed, over the phone. That job of yours must have been positively thrilling, far more exciting than my work as an editor-in-chief at a fashion magazine…’
Another snort-cough filled the air. This one from Poppy’s direction.
‘Er, I don’t know about thrilling, but I did meet some characters along the way.’ Ben glanced at the ruby-red talons that showed no sign of leaving his arm. When had Milly become so… un-Milly?
‘Well then, I’d love to hear about them. I’ll swing by in a few days’ time, once you’re all settled and up and running, and we’ll make a date, shall we?’ Milly stretched up and settled her lips on his cheek. He caught a whiff of some dark, exotic perfume. So different to the apple shampoo that had been her ever-present scent as a teenager.
‘Okay. Great. Well, have a good day, Milly.’ Ben waved her off and shut the door to a mixture of wolf whistles and kissy sounds.
‘Ben’s got a giiiiirlfriiiiiiend,’ Sophie and Joe sang in unison.
Ben touched his arm where Milly’s hand had been. Breathed in the potent perfume that still hung in the air. He looked over to Poppy to gauge her opinion. Her back was turned, hunched over, as she tore into another box, sending the polystyrene pieces within flying.
He tried to ignore the gnawing in his stomach that told him his life was about to get complicated. Complicated? Try downright problematic. With the opening of his business, the juggling of staff, and the rift between him and his father that if their lack of communication was anything to go by showed no signs of abating, the last thing he needed was Poppy vs Milly, round two.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_1be7f245-3a46-5fc8-8b9d-0962a92dec37)
Ben closed his eyes. Opened them again. Blinked hard. The bowl of creamy vanilla icing he had tucked under his arm threatened to tip over and spill its contents on their freshly cleaned floor.
Poppy mashed her lips together; she knew what was coming but couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t? More like didn’t want to. His face began to turn a violent shade of purple. Eruption coming in three… two… one…
‘You can’t seriously be wearing that on our first day of business. It’s completely ridiculous. Totally over the top. What will people think?’ Ben shoved the icing-covered spoon he was holding in the bowl and placed it on the counter.
Joe glanced down at his outfit. A snow-white fluffy onesie with a pink oval ‘belly’ front and centre. ‘What? You don’t like my uniform?’ He spun round, sending the golden tail attached to the onesie’s rear flying.
‘Uniform?’ Ben shook his head so hard Poppy half-worried that his brain would come flying out of his ears. ‘It’s not a uniform. That looks like the kind of pyjamas a three-year-old would wear.’
Poppy moved to stand beside Joe and pointed downwards. ‘Not true. Kids onesies tend to have feet as part of the pyjamas. Joe’s feet are bare.’
‘His feet are not bare. I can see with my own two eyes that he has unicorn scuffs on his feet. The slipper variety. He’s not ready to go to work. He’s ready to go to bed.’
‘You don’t like his slippers? But they’re so pretty.’
Joe raised his leg and angled his foot back and forth, displaying the purple fluffy scuffs threaded through with silver, a horn made from shiny golden material protruded from the centre of each slipper. ‘I’m with Poppy, they’re pretty. Pretty awesome.’
Ben’s nostrils flared as he huffed. ‘It’s not about whether I like them or not…’
‘You don’t. I can see it from the fuchsia colour of your face.’ Poppy grabbed hold of Joe’s tail and twirled the tail, burlesque style. ‘I’d go as far as to say they’re making you angry.’
‘They don’t make me angry. They’re slippers. It takes more than fairy tale footwear to irritate me. No, it’s just that I don’t think that uniform is appropriate for a business such as this. People will be coming to our shop expecting a certain sense of decorum… and, well…’ Ben’s lips mashed together. ‘More important than what others think… what if Joe gets too hot and passes out?’
Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and shifted from foot to foot, setting off a disco of lights embedded in her sunshine-yellow sneakers. ‘Nice tactic, making it all about Joe’s health and wellbeing rather than what others might think, but the thing is, Ben, I don’t think Joe could get hot enough to pass out, not when you insist on setting the temperature in here to freezing.’
‘It really is freezing.’ Joe mock-shivered. ‘So, actually, I’m almost cosy.’
‘And you know, Joe, I’m impressed with your commitment to the job. It’s inspiring. In fact, it’s got me tempted to wear this…’ Poppy strode over to a rack of clothing and pulled out a spaghetti-strapped silk nightgown covered in prancing miniature unicorns. ‘Although, if I were to wear this then Ben would have to pop the heating up.’
Ben’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ of horror. ‘You wouldn’t wear that? It would be—’
‘Too fun? Too casual?’ Poppy pulled the nightgown off the rack, held it up to her body and shimmied like Milly had the day before. ‘Likely to give one of your staid old customers a heart attack?’
‘Yes, exactly that. I can’t have people keeling over, it would give us bad press. Anyway, the temperature’s kept low so my customers can appreciate their tea. They’ll wrap their hands around the cups. Feel the heat infuse their bodies, their souls…’
‘Who knew Mr Business had a poetic heart?’ Poppy placed the nightgown back on the rack. ‘It’s lovely to know that you care about creating an experience for a bunch of strangers.’
‘Not strangers. Customers. Also, if it gets too warm in here the tea can go rancid. And I can’t afford to be throwing money down the drain.’ Ben checked his watch. ‘Look, the shop’s due to open in twenty minutes, and Sophie and I still have to get the tea-of-the-day steeping on the warmer, and the baking plated up and on the counter. Joe, wear what you want. Poppy, don’t you dare wear that tiny scrap of material you call a nightie. You’ll freeze to death.’
Poppy’s chest began to ache from holding the laughter in. She glanced at Joe, whose face had gone vermillion. One cheek was puffed out, like his tongue was literally pushed into it.
An irritated cluck from Ben sent her over the edge. The giggles she’d kept tamped down erupted, followed by guffaws from Ben’s direction.
‘Oh, Ben, we’re just teasing. Pulling your leg.’ Poppy bounded over and kissed his cheek. ‘I promise I won’t wear the nightgown. It’s not really my style anyway. And Joe’s onesie will only be coming out on Mondays – we’re doing unicorn story time for toddlers. We came up with it last night and posted it on our social media page. Thought it would be a good way for local mums to enjoy your tea and treats while we entertained their little ones.’
Ben’s chest deflated, his lips pursing. ‘Excellent idea, Poppy, Joe. But do you promise that this look will be for Mondays only?’
‘We promise.’ Poppy made a cross over her heart. ‘Although I’m totally getting one to wear at home.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’ Ben backed away towards the kitchen door. ‘Always have been.’
‘Yeah well, you’ll come to love this onesie. Heck, I bet you’ll end up buying one.’ Poppy smiled as Ben gave another vigorous head shake. ‘Now go finish up that icing and get that tea of yours brewing. It’s time to make our fortune.’
***
Poppy slumped onto the small wooden desk that occupied a corner of the tiny storeroom and rested her head on her arm. She rarely dealt with self-doubt – refused to as a means of self-preservation – but the numbers on the calculator, the money on the table, and the receipts from the sales were giving her a headache, and making her question how wise she’d been to think running a gift shop would be easy.
Sure, it had seemed simple enough on paper. She’d saved the money up so she’d be going in debt-free. Bought the stock. Made everything look as appealing as possible. She’d posted on Muswell Hill’s social media pages that Sparkle & Steep was opening, and within a day it had been shared. And shared. And shared some more. Gone viral, according to Joe. And the people had come.
Boy, had they come. In droves. People whisked in on their way to work or during their lunch break. Mothers with babies wrapped to their chests, and toddlers in hand, popped in, excited to see the latest arrival. Retirees poked their heads in, curious to see what had lain behind the store frontage that had been papered-over for the last two weeks.
The store’s chimes had bing-bonged all day long as people came to investigate the newest addition to Muswell Hill. Ben’s tea shop had been so busy he’d had to put on a second pot of the day’s trial tea within the first hour of opening, and both pots had been emptied and refilled by Sophie numerous times. Meanwhile Sparkle had been filled with squeals of delight and joyful sighs as people discovered her range of unicorn clothing, accessories and homeware. And the story-time session had been a hit, bolstering sales on both sides of the store, and ended with the mothers and fathers who’d brought their little ones along asking if it could be a daily occurrence, much to Ben’s chagrin.
Her till had beeped its way through the day, and now she had a bunch of numbers to make sense of. At least she didn’t have a store to tidy; Joe had taken care of that, bless his unicorn-shod feet.
A Ben-shaped shadow fell across the floor, followed by the man himself. ‘You look like I feel.’
Poppy pushed herself into a sitting position and cupped her chin in her hand. ‘I don’t think so. You don’t even have a hair out of place. I’m pretty sure mine’s so frizzy I’d be mistaken for an angel.’
She laughed as Ben’s forehead creased in confusion.
‘I call it the “black halo”.’ She indicated to the circumference of her head that had a tendency to boof out when she got all hot and bothered – which she had as the day wore on and she’d darted back and forth showcasing her wares to interested parties. ‘So, did your day go as well as I think it did?’
‘Better. I’m going to have to come in even earlier tomorrow to get more baking done. And I’ll need to call my tea supplier because at this rate I’ll be scraping the bottom of the tins by the end of the week.’ Ben rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘I knew this could work. I knew I wasn’t a fool to…’ The gleam in Ben’s eyes disappeared.
‘Someone called you a fool for opening your shop?’ Poppy didn’t need three guesses to figure out who. ‘It’s one thing for your father to not approve of your choice to open a shop, but he has no right to call you a fool. No right to try and control you.’ She pulled out the chair beside her and patted it.
Ben settled into the chair beside her, clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, tipping his chin so he was staring at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think he’s trying to control me. I just don’t think he can understand why I’d give up a solid career – a career our family has found success in for decades – on what he thinks is a whim.’
‘When you put it like that…’ Poppy spun the pen in front of her, faster and faster. ‘I must admit, I did wonder if you’d been hit on the head or something when you mentioned your plans to open a tea shop. Sure, you could bake as a kid. And the last couple of weeks I’ve tried enough of your creations to know they’re better than all the other baking I’ve ever tried – and I’ve tried a lot of baking. But you’ve never been one to take risks. To strike out on your own.’
Ben laughed, harsh and humourless. ‘Well, we can’t all be like you now, can we, Poppy? Not all of us are able to just give something a go, or leave someone behind, without thinking of the repercussions.’
Poppy didn’t miss the hint of hurt. Ben thought she’d not taken his feelings into consideration when she’d left, but she had. Big time. He was one of two very big reasons that she had to leave. In going she’d saved his heart from hurt and saved herself from hurting him. She’d hoped time and space would heal any wounds, but perhaps she’d been a fool to think that.
‘I’m sorry.’ She laid a hand on his forearm, her heart growing heavy when Ben flinched. ‘I know it was sudden, my leaving and all. But it wasn’t like I didn’t keep in touch.’
Ben turned his gaze on Poppy. His expression impassive, like he’d stopped caring. Or forced himself to. ‘I know. But just because you told me you were okay, that it was going well, it didn’t mean I didn’t worry. I did. Especially in the early stages of your travels.’
Poppy went to defend herself, to tell Ben she could handle herself – that she had handled herself – but Ben held up his hand, stopping her.
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Kellie Hailes
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 25.04.2024
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О книге: Life’s always better with a little bit of sparkle.Poppy and Ben have been best friends forever and now they’re embarking on a new adventure together – opening a joint unicorn gift shop and cafe. Ben has one rule; no unicorn paraphernalia is to cross into his tea shop. But Poppy has other ideas…They’ve always been there for each other, at least until Poppy went travelling around the world – without Ben. But now she’s back and she’s determined to stay put, bringing a little bit of magic back into Ben’s life.Can they go back to the way things once were or will the years of distance stand in the way of their new shop and blossoming romance?Readers love Kellie Hailes:‘a feel-good read powered by the magic of unicorns’‘′The Little Unicorn Gift Shop′ is the perfect antidote to a rainy day.’‘I cannot recommend this book enough, I want to read it all over again – utterly divine!’‘a delightful, warm, tender and fun contemporary novel’‘a heart-warming read’