Twirling spaghetti round her fork, Pam said, ‘I did not like that agent. Far too pushy.’
Charley shrugged lightly, ‘He was just doing his job. Everyone’s like that in the business.’
‘No wonder they’re the most hated profession in Britain,’ retorted Pam.
‘They’re not the most hated!’ replied Charley, indignantly defending her old profession. Pam raised an eyebrow. ‘They’re the fourth most hated,’ Charley admitted weakly. ‘I looked it up,’ she finished, and Pam had to chuckle.
‘I did like the book cafe though,’ said Charley, ‘That could be lovely, if you painted it up a bit.’
‘But no footfall,’ reminded Pam.
It didn’t matter how many times they went over all the shops, they had to face facts, none of them were right – not even the cute-but-costly one on the Downs.
‘I completely fell in love with it,’ Charley admitted wistfully. ‘But I know Nisha’s right – it would be crazy to set up a shop in direct competition to the one next door.’
Pam pulled a sympathetic face, but thanked her lucky stars that Charley had the good fortune to have friends who could advise her, and was smart enough to listen to them.
Chapter Seventeen
Never having been one to hanker after the impossible, by the time they’d driven home Charley was stoically telling herself that what would be, would be. ‘These things are meant,’ she told Pam cheerfully, pulling up outside the flat.
‘Absolutely!’ agreed Pam. ‘Something else, no, something better will turn up.’
Which was possibly true, but Charley couldn’t actually imagine anything better than that lovely, bijou little shop in Clifton Downs. The doubt must have shown on her face, because Pam carried on, ‘One day, maybe not today, but one day you’ll be saying, “Thank God I didn’t take that little shop near the Downs!” I promise you.’
Charley laughed and headed down the steps to the flat, but she stopped in her tracks halfway because, on the doorstep stood a huge bouquet of cream-and-yellow roses. Charley guessed there must have been about a dozen of each. Pam groaned and rolled her eyes.
Tactful of Geoff not to send red ones, thought Charley.
Josh had always sent Charley red roses every Valentine’s Day. Sometimes a bunch, sometimes just one, but always red roses. One year he’d sent her a card that read:
Will You Be my Valentine, Mrs Taylor?
I won’t tell Mr Taylor if you don’t.
On their first Valentine’s Day, before they were married, Charley had assumed Josh would send her a daft, jokey card, and probably a rude one. She’d chosen his carefully, nothing overly romantic, and absolutely avoiding the word ‘love’. She hadn’t wanted to make any assumptions, or to indicate any expectation of a level commitment or affection that might not be reciprocated, so she’d sent him a light-hearted, colourful card, plastered with smiley face emojis which simply read: ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’.
Josh had sent her a card too large to even go through the letter box. Deeply romantic, and extravagantly expensive, it had featured a vast, plush red velvet heart, set against a background of red roses, and in fancy copperplate writing it read: ‘Will you be my Valentine?’
When she opened it, he’d written in his untidy scrawl:
Please say yes
Because I love you
Josh
She’d kept it, along with all the other Valentines cards, birthday cards and Christmas cards, he’d ever sent her.
Attached to the cellophane wrapping of Pam’s bouquet of roses was an envelope. Pam didn’t even bother to open it, and scooping up the flowers, she thrust them at Charley. ‘You know where to shove those,’ she said, indicating the dustbin at the top of the steps.
Charley looked at the flowers sadly. They were beautiful, and it wasn’t their fault they were unwanted, innocent victims caught up in a marital battle. ‘It seems a waste to chuck them out.’ She doubted anyone would ever send her a bunch like them. ‘They’d look lovely in the living room…’ She glanced over to Pam.
‘Okay. But I’m not reading the note.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘And I’m not putting them in a vase.’
‘Fine.’
‘And I’m not being childish,’ asserted Pam, and then asked with endearing uncertainty, ‘Am I?’
‘Maybe… just a little bit!’ laughed Charley.
In the flat, still clutching the enormous bunch of roses in one hand, Charley had only just got out a vase when her phone rang. Dumping the flowers on the draining board she dug it out of her back pocket. It was the estate agent. There was, he told her good news and bad news.
‘The bad news is I’ve let the shop near the Downs.’ He left a beat before gloating. ‘I did warn you.’
Bugger, thought Charley. Even though she knew in her heart of hearts it wasn’t right for her business, she still felt a pang of regret that someone else would get to run a business from it, and it wouldn’t be her.
‘The good news is,’ the agent was continuing, ‘the people I’ve let it to had first option on one of the units at Cargo, down in the docks. I suggest, if you’re interested, you should meet me down there immediately, before anyone else finds out it’s up for grabs.’
Charley knew he wasn’t stringing her a line. ‘We’ll be there in fifteen!’ she promised.
She and Pam jumped back in the car. Giggling with adrenalin, Charley floored it.
‘Go, Charley, go!’ cheered Pam.
‘If I can’t find a parking space, you leap out and keep him talking until I get there!’ said Charley as they neared the docks, both of them scanning the side streets for spaces. As it happened, they were in luck, and spotted an empty meter space only a couple of streets away.
‘It’s an omen!’ cried Charley gleefully. ‘I have a really good feeling about this! I’m sooo excited!’ She slung the car into the spot.
‘Yes, but calm down, play it cool, and don’t look too keen,’ advised Pam.
Charley breathed deeply, then did it again for good measure, before clambering out of the car. ‘Don’t worry.
