Peppermint Kiss (9 page)

I mean, we'd known it would need work, but
this
much work? I started to wonder whether Mr. Vulmer
had
got the better deal after all. Were we mad, taking this on? How could we possibly transform somewhere so disgusting into the luxurious haven of tranquillity and relaxation I had in my mind? How could somewhere so dull, drab and dusty ever become the beauty parlour we dreamed of?

I knew we were all having similar wobbles because when Mum said, “Yes, well, I think we've seen enough for the moment,” no one argued. In fact, we couldn't get back up to the flat fast enough (and
that's
saying something!).

But back upstairs the shock wore off and the excitement shone through again as we began making plans for the business. The seven and a half grand we had left after paying out the two rents seemed like a huge amount of money at first, but Mum was right, once we started thinking about all the stuff we needed, it suddenly didn't seem like very much at all.

We worked out that, for the reception area, we'd need a desk and chair, a till, nice sofas, some kind of worktop to make the smoothie bar, and stools for people to sit at it, a manicure station, shelving for the products we were going to sell, and nice bags to put them in. Oh, and an appointments book – until we could afford a computer, anyway.

“The treatment rooms will need massage tables,” said Mum, “foot spas for the luxury pedicures, chests of drawers, towels, heaters, hairbands, clocks, dressing gowns, a music system…”

Grace frowned. “That sounds expensive.”

Mum nodded. “Yes, well, when I say a music system, I'm probably talking about a couple of second-hand CD players… Oh, and we'll need stuff for waxing.”

Grace and Saff dissolved into giggles at that.

“What?” Mum cried. “Most beauty places offer that service, and I'm qualified in it, so why not?”

“Rather you than me, that's all I can say!” squealed Saff.

Grace shuddered. “There's no way I'm ripping off someone's leg hair, or
worse
!”

When we'd all stopped giggling, and Mum had stopped rolling her eyes, we got back on with the list.

In the loo (urgh!), at least the plumbing was there, which Mum said would save us heaps of money, but we all agreed we'd have to make it a LOT nicer before it was fit for paying customers. And we'd need a small staff area for keeping cleaning equipment and stock (the kitchenette that was there would do, but the same applied as with the loo!).

We also wrote down: paint for EVERYWHERE! Plus a stock of trade products that I couldn't make, like the nail varnishes, nail files and organic wax. And money for a two-day Manicure Diploma for Saff, so she could help Mum with clients right away, without waiting for her college course to begin. Then we needed ingredients for our home-made products, plus jars and labels, pans, measuring jugs, spoons, moulds and things. I'd got enough glycerine soap base and sweet almond, olive and grapeseed oils left to make some products for the photo shoot I was planning to do with Summer (once I'd asked her, of course!) but for the actual shop stock we'd have to buy loads more.

“Nice plants and pictures,” Saff added then.

“Phone line and actual phone, more
importantly
,” said Grace sniffily.

“Finishing touches
are
important,” Saff argued. “They're what make the place look inviting.”

“I'm just saying, it's lucky I'm here to think of the essentials,” Grace shot back. “No phone equals no bookings equals no customers equals no money.”

As my sisters bickered, Mum was staring in alarm at the list, which was running into its third page. “Oh dear, we really haven't got
anything
, have we?” she muttered, frowning. “And from what I remember from the beauty place I used to work in, we still need to allow for product testing by a cosmetic chemist. Then there are smoke alarms and extinguishers, an electrical check and safety certificate, and anything else that comes up in our health and safety inspection…”

“Don't forget a proper pest control assessment by Rentokil and any treatment,” added Saff, with a shudder. “I don't think the health and safety people are going to accept Liam's ‘cheese, spade and running round screaming' method.”

Mum looked anxiously at Grace, who had been roughly estimating the costs and allocating a budget to each thing as we went along. “Do you think we can even
do
this?” she asked anxiously.

Grace frowned at the figures, then said, “We need to keep the range of products fairly small to begin with, with simple ingredients, and look for bargains, and ask for good deals wherever we can. But…yes, I think so.”

“We're in business!” Saff cried.

Mum and I shared a smile. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was really happening.

“Just one thing,” Mum said then. “What are we going to call it?”

All three of them looked at me, expecting me to come out with something on the spot. For a moment my mind was blank, but then I thought about how we weren't just chasing rainbows, and then of that song “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”, and then about dreams coming true and… “How about Rainbow Beauty?” I said.

“Perfect,” Mum declared, and Grace and Saff agreed it was the right name too, without arguing for once.

I'd like to say that we toasted our new idea – business, adventure, dream – in champagne, or at least in the luxury fruit smoothies we used to whizz up using every tropical fruit under the sun. But for now, orange squash would have to do.

“It's a good job Liam fancies you, Mum,” Grace said grumpily. “We'd never be able to afford full price for a shop fit.” Then she just stared at us all as we collapsed into fits of giggles. “What?” she demanded.

“Oh, honey,” Mum gasped, “you're so, so clever, but you can't see what's right under your nose!”

“Liam's gay – how could you not notice?” said Saff, creasing up again.

So then as Grace harrumphed around the kitchen, demanding to know when Liam had actually
said
that, and Saff offered to paint Mum's nails to practise for her practical interview at the college, I couldn't help smiling to myself. For the first time since we'd got here, we felt like
us
.

I could almost pretend that we were still in our lovely house in Ealing, and that Dad was just about to walk in the door.

I couldn't wait to get to school on Thursday morning. Summer and Ben were in our form room already, sitting on their desks, and I launched myself at them and pulled them both into a hug.

“Erk!” cried Summer.

“Steady on, Abs,” gasped Ben. “Is this how you plan to make some money, becoming a wrestling champion?”

Well, okay, I was so excited it
was
probably more of a headlock than a hug. “We're staying!” I announced gleefully, as I put them down. “We got the rent – Mum sold her engagement ring. And I had an idea for a business – a beauty parlour in the shop downstairs from our flat. Our landlord's going to let it to us, and our neighbour Liam's going to help us fit the place out – he's a builder – and I'm going to make all the products myself, and Mum will do the treatments and—”

“That's fantastic!” cried Summer, getting
me
into a headlock then.

“Yeah, brilliant!” added Ben, throwing himself in too. We started whooping and jumping up and down in a huddle.

Then I heard, “Hey y'all. Why the love-in?”

It was Marco.

I stopped jumping, untangled myself from Summer and Ben, and beamed at him. “I'm staying,” I said.

His face broke into a massive smile. “Oh, Abbie, that's great.” He looked awkward for a moment, like he didn't know what to do next.

“Well hug her, you idiot,” cried Summer.

I felt awkward too (as you know, hugging someone you've got a bone-shaking knee-wobbling crush on isn't the same as hugging your mates). But we hugged, and it went on for ages and ages, as I couldn't make myself let go, and Marco didn't seem in a hurry to end it either.

“Erm, are you going for a record or something…” said Ben, making me blush bright red and finally prise myself away from Marco. Luckily I got into telling them all the details about Rainbow Beauty then, so the World's Longest Hug cringe faded after a while (and so did my cheeks!).

Summer said that of course we could do a promotional leaflet for our Media project, and when I mentioned about the juices and smoothies, she insisted that we could have loads of fruit and veg from their garden. How amazing is that? I told her we'd pay for it, of course, but she wouldn't hear of it. She even said she'd sow a few more rows of carrot seeds in their veggie patch for me, so by September we should have loads of those for the juices. And Ben reckons that by then people have so many apples they put boxes of them by the side of the road and you can just take them, for free. He said we could go round collecting them, and that he'd show me how to store them so they'd last the whole winter.

“I've got no idea about fruit and veg,” said Marco then, “or skin creams and that, but I'll help in any way I can.”

It was so sweet of him, I felt like hugging him again, but I managed to resist, because otherwise I probably wouldn't have been able to let go of him
ever
, whatever jokes Ben made!

When Grace and I got home, I was absolutely buzzing, and I told Mum and Saff all about my friends' offers of help. They were grimy but happy after spending the day trying to clean up the shop, and the news made them even bubblier.

“I met Emily in town earlier,” Saff told me and Grace, “and she said she'll help too, when we open, with manicures and that, or tidying up and making tea. It'll be good experience for when our course starts.”

“Oh, that's fab,” I cried. “And with Liam too, we're getting a proper team together!”

“That's great,” said Grace.

“I bet your mates are happy you're staying,” I said to her. “I hope they're handy with a paintbrush!”

“Yeah, they are,” she said shortly, then hurried up to the flat to start her homework. Hmm, getting info out of Grace was like getting blood out of a stone.

Anyway, I went after her, and as she got on with her maths project at the kitchen table, I started writing lists of the ingredients we needed to order from my supplier catalogues (which luckily I'd brought with me) and of the equipment we needed to buy ready to make our first batch of products. I had a few things, of course, and I'd been using stuff from the kitchen. But to make products to sell, everything had to be just kept specially for that, so we needed loads of new things too.

When I'd finished my draft list, Grace took it and interrogated me about whether we needed four mixing bowls and measuring jugs to start off with, or if we could manage with two, and whether some of the more expensive oils were really necessary. I managed to cross a few things off that I didn't think would affect the final products or slow down the production process too much, and finally she approved the list and let me ring the supplier on Mum's pay-as-you-go phone, so long as I promised to ask for a discount.

But even when I was actually ordering everything – the essential oils, bath foam, milk and lotion bases, flower petals and lavender buds, cute heart and star moulds for soaps, gauze bags, bottles, jars and ribbons, spatulas and stirrers – I could still hardly believe it was really happening.

My official timetable on Friday was Maths, English, double Geography and double Science after lunch, but really it should have said
Flirting, Flirting, double Flirting, break for lunch as Marco had band practice, more double Flirting
. Marco and I had to work together in Maths, and his leg was accidentally leaning on mine under the desk. My brain was totally scrambled, thinking,
Is it really accidental? Or on purpose? Or accidental at first but now on purpose?
My heart was pounding and I could hardly breathe, let alone
calculate
anything, so he had to do most of the work.

Then in Geography we got into a pretend-scrap over a pencil sharpener and Mrs. Leavis said, “Marco, put Abbie down and get on with your work,” really loudly, and
everyone
turned round to look at us. I nearly
died
of embarrassment, while feeling really excited at the same time. I mean, if a teacher had noticed, surely that meant there must be something
to
notice, didn't it?!

On Saturday morning I went to the greengrocer's with a long list of fruit and veg, plus strict instructions from Grace to get as much money off as possible. The plan was to put everything out on the kitchen table and have a go at making some different juice blends to see which worked. There were things we were definitely going to use, like apples and carrots as bases for most of the juices, but apart from that it was a case of experimenting. I knew I wanted to use oranges and lemons though, so that we could express the oil from the peel to scent our orange and lemon soaps, and set them with strips of peel in so they looked really cool.

I was there to buy ingredients for my fresh face masks too. I'd been keen to do an anti-aging one with asparagus and kiwi fruit, but Grace had vetoed that, because as soon as asparagus is out of season it's going to be really expensive and kiwi fruit are about thirty pence each all the time. Luckily she agreed to blueberries because we can use them in the juices too, and we should hopefully be able to get a good deal for buying a lot. I say luckily because the night before, while trying to avoid the spiny bits in bed again, I'd come up with the idea of having one juice for each colour of the rainbow, and blueberries are the only way of making blue juice. Plus they're super foods, full of antioxidants, so they give a great burst of nutrients as well as being scrummy. I also had to get limes, strawberries, peaches, pears, ginger, grapes, pineapples, spinach, beetroot, melon, passion fruits, mangoes and bananas.

It was really cool in the greengrocer's. They had loads of organic and fair trade products, and thankfully not at crazy high prices. The whole place was decked out with retro advertising signs and old orange crates, and they had these lovely old weighing scales too. I was really nervous at first about talking to the greengrocer (called Tom, as I found out), especially as I had to ask for a discount (yikes!). But it was fine in the end – I said how nice the shop looked and we just got chatting.

As we were talking I had the brainwave that it would be great to use the grocer's as the location for the photo shoot Summer and I were planning for our promotional leaflet. I explained about starting up Rainbow Beauty and asked if we could, and Tom was really keen. That's when I decided it would be a good moment to ask for a discount. Amazingly, he said that as we'll be buying a lot of fruit and veg, I could have ten per cent off everything! I could have hugged him, but I didn't because then Ben walked in with his mum and his baby bro.

“Oh, hi,” he mumbled, looking really interested in his baseball boots.

“Hi,” I replied, wondering why he was shuffling awkwardly.

Ben's mum gave me a big smile, and so did the gorgeous baby. “Well, aren't you going to introduce us?” she prompted.

“This is Abbie,” Ben mumbled.

“Oh!” his mum cried. “So
you're
the famous Abbie! Ben hasn't stopped talking about you since you started at Cavendish. Abbie this, Abbie that. Abbie, Abbie, Abbie.”

“Oh my God, Mum!” he cried.

So that's why he was looking so awkward. He was on Embarrassing Parent Alert. I raised my eyebrows at him teasingly, expecting him to pull a face back or something. But can you believe it, he actually
blushed
. “Come on, let's go,” he mumbled. “We can live without fruit and veg this week.”

But his mum just smiled at me again. “I'm Trina. This is Gabe.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said, then leaned down to little Gabe in his buggy. “And
you
, gorgeous little man. You are gorgeous, aren't you? You are!”

Gabe wriggled and cackled with delight. Then I started beeping his nose and making him laugh even more.

“Right, well, I'm going to—” Ben began, heading for the door.

“No, you stay and give Abbie a hand,” Trina said, eyeing my two huge half-filled boxes. “She can't carry both of those on her own.”

Ben gave her an exasperated look but she just smiled sweetly at him and said, “Don't worry, I'm not going to cramp your style for much longer. I'll just get our things and be on my way. I'll see you at home.”

When she'd bought their shopping and I'd fussed over Gabe a bit more, we said goodbye to them (well, I did – Ben just grunted). He started to look a bit more of a normal colour then.

“I'm so sorry about her,” he said, wincing. “I don't go on about you, honestly. I've barely mentioned you.”

“Oh, right. Well,
thanks
,” I teased.

He grinned. “No, I mean, she's only trying to embarrass me.”

“And she's
brilliant
at it,” I said. “Look, thanks for staying. I hadn't even thought about how to get this lot back to the flat.”

“No worries. What's next?” he asked.

I looked down the list. “Six mangoes. And make sure you only pick the heaviest ones, they're the juiciest, and give them a little squeeze with your thumb first to make sure they're ripe.” With the amount of smoothies we'd had in our Ealing house, I knew what a big difference it made to start off with the best ingredients.

Ben saluted. “Yes, boss.”

“Don't be cheeky. Here, catch.” I threw a pineapple to him. Okay, well maybe a little bit
at
him.

“Oi, careful!” he cried, as he caught it and put it in the box. “You could have had my eye out with that thing!”

When we'd got everything, I settled up with Tom and arranged to come after school on Monday to do the photo shoot. Then Ben and I picked up the boxes and headed for the flat. He insisted on taking the heaviest one but still, my arms were killing me by the time we got to the main door. Balancing the box on my knee, I unlocked it and we trudged up the stairs. I'd thought I might mind him seeing the flat, but now that he was there it didn't bother me. I
was
worried about Saff and Grace, though. “It's only fair to warn you, my sisters can be a bit over the top,” I told him as I let us in.

I was glad I did warn him in advance because of course Saff and Grace were hideously embarrassing. It was even worse than I thought because Mum wasn't there to keep a lid on them. She'd gone to Argos and Poundland in Torquay with Liam to get all the kitchen equipment we needed for making the products, like the measuring jugs and pans and spoons and things. Of course, I'd ordered the moulds and most of the base ingredients and oils from my usual specialist supplier (and they'd arrived in a big box that morning, luckily), but we were buying anything we could in cheaper places.

“Oooooh, you've got
him
well trained,” said Saff from the sofa, as we walked into the kitchen and dumped the boxes on the floor.

“You shouldn't get a man to do your lifting and carrying for you, it's anti-feminist,” Grace lectured.

“It's not cos he's a man…boy,” I said, “but cos he's a
person
, with
hands
. I didn't see either of
you
offering to help. Anyway, what happened to ‘hi' and ‘nice to meet you'?”