Summer Daydreams (40 page)
I think she just wants to keep an eye on me and, you know, I rather like the sound of someone keeping an eye on me.
‘OK. That’s very kind of you.’
‘Want me to walk Petal to nursery? Then I’ll go home and get some stuff?’
‘Why don’t we walk Petal to the nursery together? I could do with the fresh air.’ To be honest, I still feel too shaky to face the mothers of the playground by myself again. ‘We can take Dude.’
I think even the dog has been pining for Olly as he’s been off his food like me.
‘Yay! Yay! Yay!’ That’s Petal. Dude wags his tail enthusiastically. If only humans could be so easily pleased.
‘Cool,’ Jen says.
We all fight for the bathroom and, eventually, we’re all dressed and head out together. We drop Petal off at nursery and then Jen and I walk back into town. She links her arm through mine and the simple contact soothes my frayed nerves.
‘I’ll see you later,’ Jen says when we reach the place where we need to part ways. ‘If you need me, just text me.’
‘I’m fine. Really.’ Then, ‘You’ve been great, Jen. Thanks.’
‘No worries.’ She hugs me and I feel small against her. ‘I’m just glad that we’re mates again. Laters.’
I watch her walk away, before I say, ‘Come on, Dude.’ Turning down Market Place, the dog and I walk back towards home. On our way we pass Betty the Bag Lady. No more lingering to look in the window for me. Instead, I cast a furtive glance to see what’s displayed in the window. Betty still texts me regularly asking me to call her, but I have never done so.
The window, as always, looks stunning. I feel so sad that we couldn’t have remained friends. It would be nice to feel that I had an ally in the business and didn’t seem to just constantly accumulate enemies. Still, it wasn’t to be. I quicken my pace and, as I do so, the shop door swings open. Coming out is Betty. I don’t know who’s more shocked – me or her. We both stop dead in our tracks.
Betty is the first to speak. ‘Nell,’ she says.
‘Hi.’
Her face breaks into a smile. ‘Good to see you.’
‘Oh.’ Is it? ‘Good to see you, too.’
‘I’ve been trying to contact you for ages.’
‘I know.’ Now I feel shifty. I study the pavement. ‘I’m sorry I’ve not returned your calls. I’ve been so busy.’
‘I know! It’s amazing.’
I shrug. ‘It was all after Chantelle Clarke appeared on the television with one of my bags. Everything went crazy.’
‘I was so pleased to see that.’
‘A big PR agency in London organised it for me.’
Betty looks taken aback by that. Is it so pathetic of me to want to brag about it? I feel that it is. I’ve no need to.
‘That was me,’ Betty says softly. ‘Chantelle is a friend of mine. I passed on the handbag you gave me.’
Now it’s my turn to be taken aback. ‘It was you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I… I… didn’t know.’ I was aware that Betty had some celebrity friends, but I had absolutely no idea Chantelle Clarke was among them.
‘That’s why I was trying to call you. She desperately wanted another design. She adores your handbags.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t know.’
Now she looks at me closely. ‘Is everything OK with you, Nell?’ I realise that Betty looks her usual immaculate self and that I quite probably don’t.
‘I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘Everything’s fine. Couldn’t be better.’
‘I’d love to put in an order,’ Betty says. ‘Everyone’s been asking for your handbags in my shop.’
‘They have?’
‘Yes. Of course. They’re great.’
‘I thought you didn’t like them.’
‘Really? Why would you think that? I loved them. If I’m honest, I just couldn’t believe you’d created them without saying a word to me. I was just stunned. You’ve such a talent. I thought of Chantelle straight away.’
‘Oh.’ How could I have read this all so wrong?
‘You weren’t mad at me for doing that, were you? I did worry that I’d offended you somehow.’
‘No, no,’ I stammer. ‘I just didn’t realise it was you.’
‘Thank goodness,’ she says. ‘I thought we’d fallen out!’ Betty glances at her watch. ‘I just have to shoot out, Nell, but now that we’ve made contact again, I’d love to stock the bags. Would you let me?’
That is music to my ears. Not that it’s going to get us out of our current mess, but at least it shows that someone has some faith in me.
‘Yes. God, yes.’ I’ll give her the biggest discount I possibly can.
‘I’ll call you later,’ she says. ‘Promise me this time you’ll return it.’
‘I will,’ I say sincerely. ‘Of course I will. And thanks.’
‘No worries,’ Betty says. She touches my arm tentatively.
‘Lovely to see you again, Nell.’ Her concerned gaze roves over me. ‘Take care of yourself. Don’t work too hard. I’ll catch you later.’
She waves at me and I watch, dumbfounded, as she trips off down the street.
What can I do to make it right with Betty? What can I possibly do to thank her? I have been holding a grudge against her completely without foundation. She could have thought I’d turned into some stuck-up bitch who believed herself to be too good to return her calls. Who could have blamed her? I haven’t behaved well towards her. I have blanked this woman thinking that she’d spurned me, when all along it was her who orchestrated my big break.
So much for Della Jewel. Looks like I did send flowers to the wrong bloody woman after all.
In a daze of confusion, I wander back to my own shop. Outside, I stand and stare at the window. Even though I say it myself, the display looks so appealing. It still doesn’t seem possible that my name is above the door. I sigh sadly. Pretty soon it may not be. I may be very grateful for Betty’s order.
I don’t even know if we’ve got enough money in the bank account to cover this month’s rent and I can’t bring myself to look. I don’t even know if we have money for food, and we can’t eat naffing handbags.
I let myself in, make a coffee and then go and sit in the office. Now that I’m alone, I try Olly’s number, but there’s no reply. He must still have his voicemail turned off.
What should I do? I stare at the computer and the pile of post that’s mounting up on my desk. The letters all look like they’re bills and I know that I don’t have the means to pay any of them. I could do some sketches, think of some new designs, but what’s the point? I don’t even know if I’ll have a business beyond the next few weeks. I could be dependent on a few bags in Betty’s window rather than my own. I could be back on the market stall. I could be back in the chip shop.
Sipping my coffee, I shuffle papers aimlessly. The doorbell chimes and I look up, heart in mouth.
But it’s not Olly. It’s Phil.
‘All right, love?’ he says. I nod. ‘Bearing up.’
‘We were worried. Constance and me.’ He holds out a big, round tin. When I look inside, there’s some sort of pie topped with golden puff pastry. ‘Chicken and mushroom. She baked it for you, so that you’d have something in for your tea.’
‘She’s an angel. Tell her thanks.’
‘She was worried, love. You didn’t look like yourself at all yesterday.’
‘Jen’s been here,’ I tell him. ‘She’s been a diamond.’
‘I know. She said she was coming round. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that. All things considered.’
‘I’m fine.
We’re
fine. She’s coming to stay with me for a couple of days.’ I’m just hoping that, by then, Olly will have made contact. ‘Time for a coffee?’
‘No thanks, Nell.’ Phil pulls up a seat and lowers himself into it. ‘I wanted to see how you are,’ he says, ‘but I also wanted to talk business with you.’
‘I’m not turning out to be the greatest businesswoman of all time, am I?’
‘It’s a steep learning curve,’ Phil admits, ‘and you’ve had more than your fair share of bad luck.’
Is it just bad luck or am I guilty of being too naive, too gullible?
‘I want to lend you the money, Nell,’ he says. ‘I can get my hands on twenty grand. Is that enough to get you out of this hole?’
Shaking my head, I say, ‘I can’t take that from you, Phil. We already owe you enough.’
‘I’m not bothered about that, love. You know that.’ He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and I think how much I love this man. He’s been so good to me. Like a father. If Olly never comes home I am truly blessed by the other people I have in my life. ‘It’s just that I feel responsible for encouraging you to go out on your own. It’s a big step and maybe I pushed you too much.’
‘Oh, Phil Preston. Don’t even think that. None of this is down to you.’
‘I don’t want to see you go under. Not when I can help.’
‘The truth of the matter is that I don’t know if I’m going to carry on, Phil.’
He recoils in shock. ‘But you must. You can’t give up so easily, Nell. You never know what’s just round the corner. Something big could be on the horizon.’
Or there could be someone else out there waiting to rip me off, rob me of my hard-earned cash, undermine my family, and destroy my self-confidence. I sigh to myself.
‘Don’t give up, Nell. Promise me that. At least don’t do anything until you’ve heard from Olly.’
‘I promise.’ What if he doesn’t come back for weeks? Months? Or not at all? I don’t voice my misgivings.
‘Better go,’ he says.
‘At least your business is thriving.’
‘Couldn’t be better, Nell. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten the role you played in turning it around.’
‘I slapped a bit of paint about, Phil.’
‘You gave it a new lease of life. And me.’ Standing up, I kiss him. ‘You’re a lovely man.’
‘You’ve got a good one too, Nell. Whatever’s going on in Olly’s mind at the moment, don’t forget that he’s a good man.’
‘I won’t.’ I walk Phil to the door and he gives me a peck on the cheek. ‘Catch you later. Thank Constance for my dinner.’ He winks at me. ‘I’ve got a good one there, too. I’m not going to let her go easily.’
‘Too right,’ I say. ‘I’m hoping I’ll be coming to
your
wedding one day soon.’
‘You never know, Nell,’ he replies. ‘You never know.’
That, at least, puts a smile on my face. It would be lovely if Phil and Constance could find happiness together. Doesn’t that prove that, despite everything, I’m still an old romantic at heart?
Then, as I lift the tin with my home-baked chicken and mushroom pie inside it from my desk to take it safely upstairs, my phone beeps. I have a text message.
It’s from Olly. Miss u, it says.
All I type is, Come home.
Olly had cracked and had texted Nell. He just needed something to connect him to home as he felt as his life had turned into a bad movie, and reality was something that was steadily slipping away.
Now three days had passed and Nell had continued to text him regularly. He’d kept all the messages stored and read them over and over, but hadn’t replied. He wondered what she’d say to him when he eventually did go home. It depended on what happened next, he assumed.
For three whole days he’d done nothing but sit outside the run-down offices of Home Mall. For three whole days nothing at all had occurred. For three long, hot, sweaty, sweltering, Miami days, he’d stewed in his rental car, eyes fixed on the door ahead of him. He’d talked everyday to Diego and Andrés who’d certainly become less wary of him, if not exactly friendly. But, so far, they’d been unable to find out anything more about the Codys than he already knew.
Olly had taken to bringing sandwiches, fruit and soft drinks to keep him going through the day. But they were all warm and wilting long before noon. An ice-cold beer featured heavily in his daydreams. At night he returned to the serial killer motel and, when his wide-eyed wakefulness finally gave way to sleep, it was punctuated by nightmares about their home being repossessed and him fighting big dragons or snakes, or him running through forests that snatched at his clothes with Petal clutched tightly to his chest. It was fair to say that none of it was leaving him feeling rested.
This morning, he’d been sitting there for three hours already. His shirt was melted to him and perspiration ran down his face. His hair was stuck flat to his forehead. He wondered just how much more of this he could take. Frustration was building up inside of him. This was necessary, absolutely necessary, but it felt so futile too. Before he thought he might give in to screaming hysteria, he got out and walked further down the alley to calm his nerves.