Page 8 of The Village Shop for Lonely Hearts

‘Good morning,’ he said, finally making it to the counter.

‘Good morning, Frank,’ said Cathy, smiling. ‘How are you today?’

‘Not bad,’ replied the gentleman. ‘It’s a right miserable day out there though.’

‘Let me introduce my goddaughter, Amber,’ said Cathy, gesturing towards Amber, who was still standing in the middle of the shop. ‘She’s staying with us for a while.’

‘Lovely to meet you,’ said Frank.

Amber nodded. ‘You too,’ she said, as always somewhat uncomfortable about being the centre of attention.

‘She’s just flown in from New York,’ said Cathy, with a proud note in her voice.

‘So good they named it twice.’ The gentleman laughed, patting his pockets as if searching for something. ‘Good Lord, I’ve forgotten my pound coin,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘I’m getting so forgetful.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Cathy told him. ‘You can pay us tomorrow when you come in.’

But Frank was still frowning. ‘I’ve got my debit card on me if that helps. Don’t like not paying my way.’

‘We don’t have a card system here,’ said Cathy. ‘Besides, we know where you live, so there’s no escaping just yet!’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Frank, picking up his newspaper. ‘I’ll be in first thing to pay off my debt.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Cathy. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow.’

After the bell had jangled that the customer had left, Josh went over to the till. ‘And that is why we need a new till and contactless payment,’ he said in a pointed tone to his mother.

Cathy laughed. ‘No, we don’t! This works fine.’

From what Amber could make out, ‘this’ was an extremely old-looking till. It was pretty ugly and not very handy for the modern era, she guessed. Once more, she thought back to Saks Fifth Avenue where nearly every purchase was on a card. But, of course, this was just a small corner shop, not one of the world’s biggest department stores.

‘The customers can’t pay by card at the moment,’ said Josh, clearly getting cross. ‘Not everyone has cash on them these days.’

‘We’re not having this argument again,’ said Cathy in a firm tone of voice, before glancing at Amber. ‘Not in front of our guest.’

Amber shuffled from foot to foot, wishing she was somewhere else.

As mother and son glared at each other, Amber softly excused herself and weaved her way through to the front of the shop, keen to get away from the awkward atmosphere.

The bell jangled as she opened the front door and she stood for a moment on the wooden veranda. Despite the overcast day, the view was sensational. She looked around the riverbanks, the trees all glowing with the warm autumnal colours of gold and red.

At least she was sheltered from the drizzle, she thought, before glancing up and realising that she was standing under a massive gap in the roof of the veranda and that it was leaking. She shuffled away from the leak and looked at one of the large bay windows. Like everything else in the shop, it was packed full of all manner of goods, none of which were remotely enticing. Peering around at the other window, she realised it was equally dismal.

For a moment, she let her imagination run riot, thinking back to the many designs she had created in both London and New York. They had been everything from fantasy to modern and eclectic. Of course, any such design would be totally out of step with sleepy Cranbridge Stores.

And what about the inside of the shop? There were no real displays. It was chaotic. There appeared to be no system or organisation regarding the stock, which was piled up everywhere. Cathy didn’t want to update anything. Josh was unhappy. It was a mess.

She wished she could do something to help. But then she remembered that she was only here for a short time as a favour to her mum. She had promised to pop in and ensure that Cathy was well and happy. Perhaps one out of two wasn’t bad.

In any case, Cranbridge Stores would continue without her anyway after she was gone. Besides, what difference could she make? Her expertise was with large department stores. It was probably best that she left well alone, she told herself.

But she took one last wistful glance at the windows before she headed back inside.

4

As the day wore on, it became increasingly obvious that Amber’s luggage was not going to arrive that day. Or possibly the next day either. Amber was now stuck in Cranbridge with no clean clothes of her own.

‘So what are the airline doing about it?’ asked Cathy, sat on the chair behind the till. It was almost five o’clock and, as per the rest of the day, there didn’t appear to be any sign of an afternoon rush in the shop.