The Second Chance Shoe Shop (2 page)

A
fter handing
out cups of coffee, Riley sipped from hers as she watched Sadie finish off a sale to a young woman with a toddler. The little girl had tried everyone’s patience for the last ten minutes, screaming as Sadie and her mum tried to put a shoe on her tiny foot. She was safely tucked away in her pushchair now, still sniffling, her eyes red from crying.

Sadie was a natural with the younger customers. She helped out with the children when they came into the shop with their parents and was always ready to reward them with a sticker once a sale had been made. She had a ‘yummy mummy’ look to her, and dressed to highlight her pear-shaped figure. Delicate curls framed her round face, her smile creating dimples at each side of her mouth. Shiny brown eyes held her grief over the death of her husband far more than she’d ever realise.

‘There you go, Lacey.’ Sadie pressed a smiley face sticker onto the little girl’s coat. ‘That’s for being such a good girl for me and Mummy.’

Riley glanced at Dan, who was rearranging the shoes in the window yet again. They were trying to sell the overstock of the boots after a mild winter had let them down. Even though he was over six feet tall, Dan was slightly overweight for his frame. He had a small beer belly and a double chin, though it wasn’t as bad as Dan made out when he was poking fun at himself. He called himself Fat Dan, just in case anyone beat him to it, he said. His lack of hair made his face appear rounder than it was, but he had smiling eyes and a positive disposition that had instant appeal.

Riley watched as he picked up a red Dr. Martens shoe and put it next to a pair of purple Ugg-lookalike boots. Then he picked it up and put it next to another pair of shoes. In the end, he sighed loudly before putting it back where it had been to begin with and coming out of the window display with a look of resignation. He tutted, brushing dust off his jumper.

Each of them wore the shop uniform of black trousers and a red sweatshirt with the shop’s name embroidered on it. The sweaters were new, and a bit of a luxury as far as Riley was concerned. Suzanne said the team needed to present a united image. Branding was important, she had chanted at them, as if they didn’t know this. But didn’t Suzanne realise that there was more to branding than the shop’s name? Chandler’s couldn’t make up its mind about what it wanted to be.

Riley had fond memories of Albert Chandler. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word. Women had flocked to his shop to buy their shoes because they loved to be served by him. She smiled to herself as she recalled how women would practically gasp as he slipped a shoe on their stockinged feet, talking persuasively to them the whole time. His sales technique was brilliant, if a little lewd.

The last time both Max and Suzanne had come to see the staff they had been all airs and graces, nice as pie, before hitting them with the bombshell that the shop was under threat of closure. There had been no thought for the feelings of the staff, who had worked there for many years; just the relentless noise coming from Max as he bleated on about drops in revenue, increasing competition and ‘building a viable business model’. Riley had wanted to shout out, to let everyone know that she knew why the shop was losing money, yet she kept the truth to herself. If it became detrimental to the shop’s future, however, she would tell Dan and Sadie what had been going on.

‘What’s up, Riley?’ asked Dan as he helped himself to a biscuit. ‘You look a million miles away.’

Riley looked from Dan to Sadie and back again. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

‘I have bad news,’ she said.

‘Please don’t say what I’m thinking,’ Dan pouted. ‘I can’t bear to see Dumb and Dumber again after the last time.’ When Riley didn’t say anything, Dan froze. ‘They
are
coming?’

‘Suzanne is coming. Not Max.’

‘But that can only mean one thing, can’t it? They’re going to close the shop.’

‘No, they’re not.’ Riley shook her head. ‘We won’t let them.’

‘We won’t have any choice after what they said in January!’

‘When is she coming?’ asked Sadie.

‘Tomorrow evening,’ Riley replied. ‘Once we close, she wants to speak to us.’

‘Sounds about right, give us a rollicking on our own time,’ Dan tutted.

‘I’m not sure I can stay too long,’ said Sadie.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep them in touch with the time,’ said Riley.

A silence fell.

‘What are we going to do if they say we’re going to close?’ Sadie asked, her voice quiet.

‘We’re not closing,’ Riley repeated with determination. ‘We know this shop better than anyone. We can see its potential, even if they can’t.’

‘They’re just money-grabbing bastards,’ cried Dan. ‘They come in here swanning around as if they run the place, when we all know it’s down to you that the shop has survived for this long.’

Riley shook her head, although she knew it was partly true. She often wondered what would happen if she were to move on. No one was indispensable, but being left to her own devices for so long meant that she could run the shop with minimal supervision. Take her out of the equation, and it might take the shop a while to recover.

‘We’ll just have to get on with it until tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘In the meantime, we’ll keep an open mind.’ She raised her hands in the air. ‘You never know − they might be calling to give us a bonus.’

‘Riley, you are too funny.’ Dan shook his head in despair.

‘What we need is to be one step ahead, so to speak,’ said Sadie.

‘That’s good.’ Dan nudged her. ‘One step ahead.’

‘If only we
were
one step ahead,’ Riley sighed. ‘I’d be lost if the shop closes. I don’t know what I’d do.’

‘It won’t close,’ said Sadie firmly. ‘We won’t let it.’

‘Let’s see what Suzanne has to say first.’ Riley got to her feet as an elderly lady shuffled in, pushing a tartan shopper in front of her. ‘It might not be as bad as it seems.’

‘You’re right,’ agreed Dan. ‘We won’t let them grind us down until we know what we’re dealing with.’

Riley tried to make her smile seem real. Deep down, she knew more than any of them that if things didn’t pick up soon, they would indeed be doomed. Chandler’s might very well close. And then they would all be walking the streets, looking for jobs.

R
iley was still awake just
after midnight. She flicked on the lamp next to her bed, knowing that she wasn’t going to settle any time soon. She couldn’t get the impending meeting with Suzanne out of her mind.

Riley had been the manager at Chandler’s for eight years. After a long illness, during which she had managed the store single-handedly, the original owner, Albert Chandler, had passed away. For the staff, things had gone downhill from there. All of a sudden the jobs they loved had become more about sales targets, weekly meetings and appraisals − words that none of them had known much about until Suzanne and Max Woodward had marched in and announced that they wanted to compete with every other shop on the High Street, and become
the
shop to go to for shoes. Riley had known instantly that they would fail. She bought most of her shoes from Jazz. They were much more fashionable and often half the price.

It had been so much harder to work for Suzanne than Albert, despite the fact that she and Max still left everything to Riley. All the ideas she put forward had been tossed to one side. Suzanne knew best, it seemed. No matter how persuasively Riley argued that the shop should stock a shoe she had seen in a fashion magazine, there was always confrontation. And Suzanne would constantly tell Riley that she wasn’t managing the staff effectively, because their targets weren’t being met. The targets Suzanne had given them would never be met in London, never mind Hedworth, with its population of less than 200,000. Targets were all well and good, if they could be achieved realistically. Riley knew all about S.M.A.R.T. and
Getting Things Done
. Goals were one thing, targets were another. Sales were slipping, that was a fact, and just like everything in her life they had spiraled down the drain since New Year.

Riley picked up her Kindle and opened up the book she was reading. So
far
Chasing Pavements
had been all about a woman falling in love. Every time she started to read a new scene, something would remind her of how lonely she felt. After what happened with Nicholas her heart hadn’t had time to mend. On top of that, splitting up with her first love, Tom, had made Riley very wary of getting into a long-term relationship again.

She and Tom had been together for eight years. They’d met in their early twenties, after he had been travelling for a year and come back home to settle in Hedworth. He was so worldly wise, fascinating her from the offset with his adventurous spirit, and she fell for him immediately. They bought a house together, planned to marry and start a family, but that had never happened. After six years he upped and left, saying he felt stifled by their relationship. Riley found out much later that he’d been more interested in a woman he worked with. The last she’d heard was that they’d moved to Australia to start up a new business.

It hadn’t meant that she wasn’t at fault too. Riley thought that affairs usually started because one person wasn’t happy in the relationship. If they were happy, they wouldn’t stray. They wouldn’t feel trapped. But it had hurt that all her plans had been stopped in their tracks. It was the reason she had fallen for Nicholas and his charms. Usually she had a good radar for idiots but this time it had failed her.

With that last sorrowful thought, she scrolled through her reading list. There was bound to be a crime novel or psychological thriller that would be far better suited to her mood.

S
adie had been
up for over an hour and it was still only six thirty. She relished the peace and quiet of the morning, knowing it would be shattered when her daughter, Esther, woke up. Esther was six years old, and a whirlwind at the best of times, but until the mornings started to get that little bit lighter Sadie would be safe for a few minutes longer.

Luckily for her, when she went to work Sadie could drop Esther off at her mother-in-law’s, safe in the knowledge that she would be well looked after. While Paul Stewart, Sadie’s father-in-law, worked full-time, his wife, Christine, took Esther to and from school as well as watching her during the holidays and when Sadie was at work. Sadie couldn’t even begin to think about the possibility of the shop closing. Her wages were her only source of income now and she wouldn’t be able to cope without them.

Christine and Paul were always making reference to Ross being ‘up in Heaven’, so Esther hardly ever got too upset. It took the burden from Sadie, meaning she could grieve alone when she needed to, not worrying about her grief rubbing off on her daughter if she overheard. It wouldn’t be easy for a child so young to lose her dad and then have a mum who wasn’t capable of putting on a brave face.

After making another cup of tea, Sadie sat down at the kitchen table. Her journal was still there from last night. She opened it up and read through the words she’d written:

It’s been nearly a year since Ross died, yet every morning I still feel like it was yesterday. I still feel his presence around the house − is that mad? I often hear a noise and think it’s him, maybe in the living room when I’m in the kitchen, and I rush in half expecting him to be watching a football match. I see him everywhere I go. I’ll see a dark-haired man on the street and want to touch him so he’ll turn around and I can be sure it isn’t Ross. So I hurry to catch him up, wanting to see his face, then feel disappointed once I know it’s someone else.

Esther has been my world since Ross left us. In a way, she’s had to grow up a lot quicker than I would have liked, and I blame myself for that. Those first few months were bad. But now we are more than over the worst − we are a team of two. I feel blessed to have her.

Sadie paused for a moment, remembering when Ross had died. For a long while, she didn’t know if he would be coming home again, and whether it might be the last time she would see him at the hospice. She’d been on constant alert, waiting for the call. She didn’t want him to pass away without her having the chance to say goodbye.

She’d needed Esther to be there too. Both sets of parents thought she was too young but Sadie was adamant that she stayed until the end. Esther had been only five but Sadie had needed her there. She knew she was being selfish, but she hoped one day that their daughter would take comfort from it, that she was with her daddy when he died.

Her shoulders drooped. Everyone said it would get easier with time. It hadn’t, but to the outside world she
was
getting over it. People were even asking her when she was going to find someone new. As if that would help erase her pain.

She continued to read the words she had written the night before:

I’m dreading the anniversary of his death − what do other people do on those days? Do I take Esther out, maybe somewhere Ross and I used to go? Share memories of the past? Or do I make new memories for her? Or get photos of Ross out and create a collage, or something? What do I do?

Somehow it helped Sadie to cope if she wrote down her feelings. It was better than spilling it all on the Grieve Together website that she had joined. She’d been a member of the site for a few months now, anonymously, of course, going by the name of Clara Goodwin. She never mentioned any personal details and no one knew Esther’s name either, just that ‘Clara’ had a young daughter.

After a few more minutes she decided to log on to the site to see if her friend Tanya had replied to the last private message she’d sent her. Yes, there it was:

Sadie found herself nodding to the empty room. Tanya was a widow too, and they’d formed a bond, often chatting in private rather than for everyone else to see.

Hearing footsteps above her, she closed down her laptop as Esther thundered down the stairs.

‘Mummy!’ Esther ran towards her with her arms outstretched.

‘Morning, poppet.’ Sadie gave her a hug and picked her up to sit on her knee. ‘What would you like for breakfast today?’

‘Toast and strawberry jam.’

‘Toast and strawberry jam . . . ?’

Esther nodded vehemently, her brown curly hair, like her mum’s, bobbing up and down. Long lashes framed wide brown eyes that reminded Sadie of Ross every time she looked into them. She was a happy child, despite losing one parent at such a young age.

Sadie looked at her but didn’t speak.

‘Oh!’ cried Esther. ‘Toast and strawberry jam, please!’

‘Good girl.’ Sadie put her down on the floor again. ‘Right, let’s get you dressed, fed and watered and then we’re out of here.’

‘Morning, Daddy.’ Esther waved at the urn which took pride of place on the hearth.

Sadie wrinkled her nose. Talking to the urn was a habit that Esther had developed and, although it made Sadie feel uncomfortable, she was hoping Esther would just grow out of it. Christine thought Sadie was mad to leave the urn on display, but it had been something that Ross had asked. ‘Burn me up and keep me on the hearth,’ he’d told Sadie when she’d been on one of her regular hospital visits. She remembered batting away his comment, saying that he would have to live forever because he couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves. He’d left them barely six months later − a very painful six months for Ross. Sadie had suffered a different kind of pain ever since.

D
an woke
to the sound of his phone. Eyes still closed, he reached across to the side of the bed and fumbled about, trying to switch it off. The phone dropped to the floor, still bleeping at him.

He glanced around the bedroom, which was decorated in pale creams and lilacs. It was as homely as a guest bedroom but Dan preferred to remember it as his childhood hovel. He could still picture the numerous posters of Ducati and Kawasaki motorbikes on the walls, socks and trainers piled up in the corner, and the dartboard on the back of the door − the holes were still there, to prove how much he’d practised. For years as a teenager he’d wanted to be a professional darts player, practising at every spare moment until he’d worn the carpet threadbare. But then he’d found girls and his career plan had faltered.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Morning, love.’ Mary, his mum, came in. She popped a large mug of coffee on his bedside table. ‘It’s nearly seven, don’t go back to sleep.’

‘I won’t, Mum.’ Dan wanted to cover his head with the duvet and do just that, but instead he turned to his side and hoisted himself up onto his elbow. ‘Thanks.’

‘The weather is still mucky out there, so I’d take the bus rather than your bike, if I were you.’ When Dan didn’t reply, Mary left the room. She knew better than to try to have a longer conversation at that time of the morning, so all she ever mentioned was the weather. ‘Looks like a hot one today,’ she’d say. ‘It’s a bit nippy out there,’ she’d tell him. ‘It’s snowing!’ she would exclaim in an excited childish tone.

Rubbing a hand over his head, the blond hair almost the same length as the stubble on his chin, Dan sat up in bed, trying to waken himself and muster enthusiasm for the day ahead. Not for the first time did he wish he had been sleeping next to a woman who was in love with him. Instead, he was back at home with his parents after splitting up with his long-term girlfriend, Sarah, a year ago. Sarah had stayed in the flat they had rented and he had come back to his old room, because he couldn’t afford to rent alone. Although it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, given rent and property prices had risen far more than the average salary in Hedworth, Dan felt as if he’d taken a step backwards, and was saving money so that he could move out again. Living at home allowed him to do that, so even though Mary smothered him at times, he’d learned to cope. As mums go, he could have done far worse.

Dan yawned before taking a slurp of his coffee and running a hand over his protruding stomach. Despite his job keeping him on his feet all day, he just didn’t seem able to shift the extra kilos. The weight wasn’t the reason he and Sarah had split up. Complacency had ruled for the last year of their four-year relationship, ending with Sarah having a one-night stand. It had hurt him deeply, though at first he had tried to forgive her, to forget about it and keep the relationship going.

Sarah had slept with a man after staying somewhere overnight for a two-day conference. She’d told him it had been a long day, she’d had one drink too many at the bar, and when the guy had helped her into his room . . .

Dan turned onto his back and put a hand behind his head. Sarah hadn’t seen the man again. It wasn’t as if the night had turned into an affair, but she had been mortified at what she had done, enough to tell him and beg for his forgiveness.

It was something he could never have done. He’d never strayed, even though their sex life had been practically non-existent for a few months. He would have had the decency to finish the relationship first. But Sarah sleeping with someone else had made him realise that they were both still in the relationship because they didn’t want to admit to each other that it wasn’t working.

‘Are you out of bed yet?’ Mary shouted up the stairs.

‘I’m coming!’ With an exaggerated sigh, Dan got up, wishing that he actually was coming. He hadn’t had sex in four months − and his last escapade hadn’t been much to be happy about. He was desperate for a woman to wrap her arms around his chubby waist and say that she loved him.

Stretching as he looked out of the window, he sighed when he saw it was still pouring down. Even so, he decided he would take his bike after all. As well as the exercise, he needed to clear his head. He had more important things to think about right now than his long-dead relationship. Like what Suzanne the dragon would have to say to them all that afternoon . . .