Page 17 of The Village Shop for Lonely Hearts

‘It’s the paperwork for a contactless payment system,’ Josh told her, trying with all his might not to roll his eyes. ‘I sent off for the details last week.’

‘What do we need that for?’

‘Mum, most people want to pay with a card these days.’ When they bother to come in, he added silently to himself, glancing around the empty shop.

‘People don’t seem to mind the till,’ said his mum, gesturing at the ancient huge till.

In Josh’s eyes it was a monstrosity from a bygone era, totally unsuitable for the modern age.

‘People need to be able to pay with a card,’ he repeated.

‘It makes a lovely sound when the drawer opens,’ his mum carried on, touching the edge. ‘That’s why your dad liked it so much. It was your grandad’s, you know.’

Josh took a deep breath. ‘I know it was Grandad’s. But it doesn’t work for us as well as it could. It’s obsolete.’

‘Just like me, I suppose,’ said his mum, any sign of a good mood quickly disappearing.

He knew why his mum was like she was. She was still desperately trying to preserve his dad’s memory. The trouble was, Josh felt as if he were failing both of his parents each and every day.

He turned away to face the front of the shop. It was the same conversation they had every day. Round and round. And nothing ever changed. The theme of the argument was always the same. He wanted to change the shop. His mum didn’t.

The business was failing and there was no room for sentimentality. Tough decisions needed to be made. But he knew his mum didn’t want to listen to any of his reasoning. She was still viewing the business through the rose-tinted glasses of the past. From the happier days when his dad had been alive, when everything had been safe and secure. But now all that had changed and she was struggling to face the new reality.

‘I think you forget that I let you change the windows and doors, didn’t I?’ his mum added.

This time, Josh did roll his eyes. ‘They were rotten and it was draughty.’ He had also managed to get the electric circuit board updated so that he no longer feared a fire every time he flicked a switch. It had been a minor victory amongst so much failure.

The rest of his hard-earned savings had gone into paying off the hefty second mortgage on the place, a burden he had shared with his brother. Unknown to anyone other than Josh and Pete, their dad had remortgaged the shop many years previously. Even their mum wasn’t aware that Todd had gotten himself into financial difficulties. He had been a great father but not so good a businessman. The debts had been quite substantial on top of the mortgage. His dad had bought anything and everything from fairs and warehouse sales, filling the shop with who knows what. There was so much of it and most of it rubbish. But the money problems had remained, so Josh had used up the last of his money to ensure that his mum and grandma had a roof over their heads. Unfortunately he didn’t have enough to cover the shop’s day-to-day debts, which were mounting at an alarming rate.

‘You’ve spent too much money on all the updates,’ said Cathy, obviously not wanting to give up the argument quite yet. ‘You didn’t need to get the central heating done in the flat above the shop as well.’

He didn’t reply, merely turning away to look outside of the window. It was just another row in a long line of them and he felt so helpless, trapped in Cranbridge with none of his business savvy even close to helping out his family. He had been desperate to get away when he was younger, although he loved his family. He wanted to follow his own path and make something of himself. He had turned his passion for battling climate change into a real business. He had worn nice suits, enjoyed being someone whose opinion counted for something. A grown-up with a career.

But now he was back in the village and it was as if he had stepped back in time. He was even in his childhood bedroom in the flat above the shop. These days he felt like a teenager again, with no room to breathe or grow.

‘Your father didn’t like technology,’ he heard his mother say.

Josh drew in a sharp breath to steady his tone of voice as he continued to face the window. ‘He bought an electric guitar,’ he reminded her. ‘He used that as well as his acoustic one.’

‘Humph. That was music.’

‘Well, he was a musician.’ He finally turned to look at his mum. ‘The shop needs to change,’ he told her in a gentle tone. ‘Otherwise…’ His voice trailed off. Even at the age of thirty-five he couldn’t say what needed to be said.

His mum crossed her arms. Defence shields up, he thought.

‘It’s fine the way it is,’ she finally said.

No, it’s not, he thought as she turned to straighten a pile of biscuits next to the till. Did she know how bad it really was? He sometimes thought she did.

‘I came back to run the shop,’ he reminded her.

‘No, you came back because your father was ill.’

‘And then you were ill,’ he said. ‘And Grandma couldn’t do it all by herself, so here I am.’ Stuck in Cranbridge, he added to himself.

She looked at him, lifting her chin a little. ‘I could have coped.’

‘With all the chemotherapy making you so sick?’