Nisha got her phone out and did some quick calculations, while Charley felt the colour drain from her face, rapidly followed by her enthusiasm, her optimism and finally, her confidence.
‘How much is left for stock?’ she asked when Nisha had finished her sums.
Nisha grimaced. ‘Not a lot.’
‘What the hell am I going to do? I’ve signed the lease! I can’t back out now! How can I run a shop if I can’t afford to buy any stuff to go in it?’
The joyous excitement inside her soured to anxious nausea.
‘This is my fault, Charley,’ said Nisha, running her hand through her hair and looking uncharacteristically ruffled. ‘I work from home. I don’t pay business rates or property insurance, or separate utilities. I simply forgot to tell you to budget for them. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Charley reached out to squeeze Nisha’s hand. ‘It’s my business. I’m the one who’s screwed up.’
‘Don’t panic!’ Tara said, plonking herself down on the arm of the sofa near Charley. ‘We’ll sort this,’ she promised.
‘How? HOW? I can’t magic up a pot of money I don’t have.’
‘Baz will make you some display shelves for a start,’ said Tara.
‘I’m still going to have to buy the wood.’
‘No, you won’t. There’s tons of timber left over from big building projects. More than enough to do a revamp on Harrods! Honestly, anyone would think it grows on trees!’
Charley managed a small smile.
‘You can build a website yourself,’ said Nisha. ‘It’s not rocket science, and I’ll help.’
‘Thanks, but what about all that other stuff… domain names etc.?’ said Charley.
‘Easy peasy to sort out, and cheap as chips,’ Nisha assured her.
‘Really?’ Charley looked incredulous.
‘Well, cheap as posh chips. You know, triple fried ones doused with Balsamic vinegar and pink Himalayan rock salt.’
‘Blimey, Nisha, you eat posh!’ laughed Angie. ‘In our house the chips are posh if they’re crinkle cut.’
‘Ooooh, there’s fancy,’ said Pam, joining in with everyone’s attempts to lift the mood.
‘Okay, next?’ said Tara.
Nisha looked at her list. ‘Insurance. You’ll probably need ten million pounds of public liability insurance.’
‘Ten million!’ gasped Charley, panic written all over her face.
‘Calm down!’ Nisha cried. ‘Ten million is standard and nowhere near as expensive as it sounds. But you’ll have to have contents insurance as well, and I would suggest you think about getting some income protection for if you’re sick and can’t open the shop.
‘She won’t need that.’ Pam shook her head decisively. ‘If she’s sick, I’ll man the shop.’
Charley smiled at Pam gratefully, before turning to Nisha and asking, ‘But what about the other costs?’
Nisha shrugged. ‘You could get a small business loan…’
‘I’m not borrowing money, and that’s final.’ Apart from the mortgage, Charley never borrowed money, she didn’t even max her credit card.
Nisha hesitated before saying prudently, ‘I think you might have to. Even with all these things taken care of you haven’t really got a huge amount of money left for stock.’
Borrowing money was a deal-breaker for Charley. She made a snap decision. ‘In that case, how much will I lose if I give up the shop?’
She was met with a chorus of disappointed wails.
Only Nisha remained level-headed and clear thinking. ‘How much notice do you have to give?’
‘Four months.’
‘There’s your answer – four months’ rent.’
‘Right, well, that’s that then.’ Charley slumped back against the sofa back before adding ruefully, ‘Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.’
‘You are not giving up!’ Tara said fiercely.
‘No way!’ Angie shook her head vehemently. ‘You just need to give us all some time to think about what to do next.’
‘And don’t do anything drastic,’ warned Nisha.
‘Okay,’ promised Charley. Although, thoroughly browbeaten and defeated, in all honesty she didn’t see what any of them could do.
‘And try not to worry,’ said Pam. ‘It’ll give you wrinkles.’
The swish of passing cars and the kaleidoscope of headlights sweeping across her bedroom ceiling had Charley wondering why so many people were up and around in the middle of the night. As a small child, the rhythm of traffic driving past the pub had lulled her to sleep. As an adult it reminded her of endless sleepless nights. Lonely nights in an empty bed. She lay in the dark and gave up on sleep, giving in to the carousel of worries chasing each other round and round her brain. The only collateral for a business loan would be her flat, so, whichever way she looked at it, she was trapped in a vicious circle. She was trying to run a business to keep her home, but in order to run the business she would have to risk losing her home. Charley thought she was going mad.
She looked at her bedside clock. It was that drearily dismal hour when it was far too early to give up on the night and get up, but way too late to get decent sleep – even if she could drop off, which she couldn’t. She swung her legs out of bed and slipped barefoot to the kitchen to make herself some hot chocolate, taking out a mug and opening the fridge as quietly as possible to avoid waking Pam. She winced at the clunk of the microwave door, which seemed magnified in the stillness of the night, but was still startled when the kitchen door opened.
‘I thought I heard you pottering about,’ said Pam.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘You didn’t, darling. I just don’t sleep as well if I’m not in my own bed. I think it’s my age. I’m determined not to give in to it.’
‘The sleeping or the ageing?’
‘Both. Getting old is mandatory. Acting your age, on the other hand, is optional.’
Charley got another mug down for Pam. It was her old office mug, the one that read ‘Today Is Going to Be Awesome’.
Pam glanced at the writing. ‘Sounds like an omen,’ she remarked cheerfully.
Charley read the slogan on her own mug: ‘I’d give up Prosecco, but I’m not a quitter.’
‘Hmmm. I’m less sure about mine.’
‘Well you shouldn’t be,’ said Pam. ‘You’re not a
