The Vintage Teacup Club (14 page)

‘Not the lift! NOT the lift,’ I shouted, wheezing with laughter now as I felt my feet leave the ground and managed to wriggle free of her grasp.

By two in the afternoon, fortified by a mixture of fizz and Chloe’s enthusiastic guidance, I had found the perfect dress. When I turned to look at myself in the makeshift changing room, I knew right away that it was a dress like no other.

It was a full-skirted fifties number, with a delicate sweetheart neckline cut from the lace top and tiny sleeves that brushed my shoulders, just covering them. As I swooshed from side to side the full thick petticoat followed me in a delayed response. I opened the curtain just a crack and peeped out at Chloe, who was biting into a handmade brownie. ‘Are you ready?’ I asked her. ‘I actually think this might be the one, you know.’

‘Really?’ she asked, her face lighting up, brownie crumbs on her chin. ‘Well get your bridey butt out here then and let me have a look.’ She took another bite in an attempt at damage-limitation as the brownie started to break into bits.

I stepped past the curtain and took a barefoot step towards her, trying to ensure the skirt didn’t knock anything on the nearby table flying.

The moment I saw Chloe’s eyes water and a flush spring to her cheeks, I know I was
right. ‘This is it, isn’t it?’ I said, looking for confirmation and wrinkling my nose a little.

‘Mmm-hmm,’ she agreed, her mouth full of brownie. Even when she’d swallowed it, though, she didn’t say a word. This dress was actually silencing Chloe. We both stood dumbly where we were for a moment.

‘You know you have to buy it,’ she said, finally.

‘I know.’

She reached behind me and pulled out the price tag. She wolf-whistled and shook her head.

‘We’ll find a way,’ I said, with a shrug. Really, it was no longer a choice. I was in
love.

Alison and Pete were sitting at their kitchen table, with the financial paperwork for the past few months laid out between them. Their latest online bank statement was open on Pete’s laptop screen.

‘We’re in a mess, aren’t we?’ Alison said, looking at the evidence surrounding them.

They’d spent the morning going through their bank statements, slowly, methodically, until they’d accounted for the whole of Pete’s missing redundancy payment. Alison’s suspicions had proven to be correct – the money had simply slipped through their fingers, unaccounted for. Pete admitted that when the lump sum first came through he’d decided to pay off their credit card bills, and he hadn’t let Alison know. Neither of them had been
keeping track.

‘We’ll sort it out,’ said Pete, quietly.

‘But look at this,’ Alison said, holding up an old British Gas invoice. ‘We’ve buried our heads in the sand for too long already: replacing the boiler, servicing two cars, George’s vet bills, covering Holly’s stealing – money was disappearing all the time and we didn’t even realise.’

‘And these?’ She sifted through the papers and pulled out two red bill reminders. ‘This is really serious, Pete. It looks like we’re going to be late on our mortgage repayments this month – and we haven’t even got enough cash left to cover all of the bills.’

‘It’s not looking great, is it?’ Pete conceded reluctantly.

‘I don’t get it, Pete,’ Alison said, frustration creeping into her voice. ‘You must have realised something was going wrong. I know it’s a joint responsibility, but you’ve always handled the household stuff. I just wish you’d said something … not buried your head in the sand.’

‘Buried my head in the sand?’ Pete said, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind, Ali. And anyway, since I do most of the cooking and cleaning now, I thought you might be keeping more of an eye on the bills. Or am I supposed to do all that, as well as find a new job?’ Pete stopped himself and took a deep breath. ‘Look, we’ll find a way to fix this … get a loan or—’

‘Like I got a loan for the café, you mean? Oh yes, that’ll be no problem,’ Alison said, only realising once the words were out how bitter they
sounded. Tears began to well up but she fought them back. ‘Do you understand what this could mean for us, Pete?’

Pete raised a hand to his forehead. ‘Yes,’ he said, but it was as if he was trying to block out her words.

‘If we don’t do something soon we could lose this house.’ Alison sat back in her chair.

Pete remained silent, wearily shaking his head. ‘That won’t happen,’ he said finally.

‘Really?’ Alison said. ‘Pete, it’s happening to people every day. Things were tough when my shop went bust, but it was never as bad as this. We could lose the place we worked so hard to buy, the only home the girls have known.’ Alison looked around their kitchen, the hub of their home, and then back at her husband, whose eyes were glazed. ‘Are you even listening to me, Pete? It’s happening again, isn’t it?’

Memories of their younger selves came back to Alison in sharp relief. ‘You said back then that I didn’t need to finish my A-levels, that your band was going to be famous. And what happened? Nothing, Pete. We ended up living in that grotty caravan, with barely enough money for food. While my friends were at university, studying and having a great time, I was waitressing and scraping together the money for you to pursue your rock star dreams. Do you remember what it was like?’

Pete’s eyes were cast down.

‘We had nothing. You were rehearsing
while I had to work all hours so that we didn’t have to go crawling back to our parents with our tails between our legs.’ Alison remembered those days as vividly as if she’d just lived them.

‘You promised me all those years ago that everything would be all right – and you know
what, Pete? It wasn’t.’

Maggie had popped out to get muffins for herself and Anna. She was standing in line at the bakery looking at a picture message of Jenny’s wedding dress when a text arrived:

M. I can’t stop thinking about you. I know there’s still more to talk about, but come to dinner with me and we can start? Dx

In spite of herself, she felt a rush of excitement as she read it. She’d wait to answer, though. Her head wasn’t clear. She’d give it a few hours, at least. Dylan wasn’t forgiven yet, she reminded herself. Not for a single thing.

‘One blueberry muffin and one
chocolate, please,’ Maggie said to the girl behind the counter, realising she had reached the front of the queue. She wanted to get Anna a little treat to thank her. When she’d got back to the shop on Tuesday after her day in London, she had found everything in perfect order; Anna had processed all the deliveries efficiently and the floor and display were spotless.

‘Coffee with that?’ the girl asked.

‘No, just the muffins, thanks.’

Maggie took the paper bag and went back to the shop where Anna was helping an older man pick out some flowers. Today, with the rain, customers had been few and far between. This man was in a green mac, grey hair back in a ponytail but balding on top.

‘I had no idea it was our anniversary until I got the call just now,’ he said, flustered. ‘I mean, how do you women remember these things?’

Anna smiled reassuringly.

‘Christine said before that it didn’t matter – it’s second time round for us both you see – and she’d rather I surprised her on a different day. But then her friend Eve called to say that Christine was crushed. How can I possibly win?’ He tapped his head with the palm of his hand in frustration. ‘Eve said I’d better put things right, and soon. Please say you can help me.’ There was a look of sheer desperation on his face.

‘Of course we can,’ Anna said, motioning
for him to come and take a closer look at the stock. ‘Let’s go all out, I reckon, but stick with the classics. Some dark red roses, like these ones, a big bunch – if that’s OK for your budget I mean?’

He nodded. It seemed unlikely he would turn anything down at this point.

‘With some baby’s breath in there too.’ She picked up a few stems to show him. ‘We’ll wrap it up beautifully for you, Mr … er?’

‘Edmonds,’ he said.

‘Mr Edmonds. And how about we deliver them to your wife at work rather than you giving them to her at home? That way she’s not waiting a moment longer than she has to.’

The colour was slowly returning to the man’s cheeks. Maggie stood a little closer to Anna and the new customer, and the man looked startled. He had been so deep in thought he hadn’t even seen her come in.

‘Good idea, Anna,’ Maggie cut in. ‘I could call up your wife, sir, and say we’re sorry for the late delivery.’ She tilted her head slightly. ‘What if our stockroom had been flooded this morning and all of our deliveries set back a few hours? That sounds about right.’

The man was visibly relieved. ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘if you’re sure you don’t mind … what a very kind offer.’

‘No problem at all,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll leave you in Anna’s capable hands, just give her your
wife’s contact details and we’ll get onto it right away.’ Maggie could feel Anna’s eyes on her, questioning, as she went into the back room.

The moment the door was closed, Maggie got her BlackBerry out again. She’d waited long enough, hadn’t she? She texted Dylan.

OK, then. Where? I finish work at 6 pm

She pressed send and then immediately kicked herself for not waiting longer. What was she, fifteen years old? But Dylan’s answer came in a flash, which helped.

Down in Brighton on a shoot. Come and meet me? Seafood and fizz at that little place in the lanes at 8?

Maggie took a deep breath.

Fine. See you there. M

She came back out into the shop. Anna was on her own by the till. She turned her head and asked, ‘Maggie, just to check, are you sure you want me to call that customer’s wife? You’re always saying our delivery times are what sets us apart, that it affects the brand if …’ Maggie paused, hmm, that did sound
familiar.

‘You know what, one customer’s not going to make a difference,’ Maggie said, as she rearranged plants on a shelf.

‘Hang on, Maggie, you were nice to him because he was trying to be
romantic
, weren’t you?’ Anna smiled like she’d just solved a puzzle.

‘Maybe,’ Maggie said, not giving anything away. ‘I can’t bear the thought of her being cross with that poor man, can you?’

When the shop bell jangled an hour after the lunchtime rush Maggie looked up without thinking. She smiled when she saw Jenny, smart in a charcoal trouser suit and a crisp white shirt.

‘Hello,’ Jenny said with a smile. She nodded at the clock. ‘My boss is away,’ she added by way of explanation for the late lunch hour. ‘Any chance you’ve got a minute to talk through the plans for my wedding flowers?’

‘Yes, sure,’ Maggie said, pulling a couple of stools up to the counter. ‘It would be a pleasure.’ She turned towards her assistant. ‘Anna, would you mind putting a pot of tea on for us?’ Anna nodded and walked towards the back room. Maggie went on, ‘And then do you want to join our meeting? I’d love to get your input.’ Anna turned around, her eyes lit up.

‘She’s a quick learner,’ Maggie said quietly to
Jenny as they heard the kettle go on, ‘and weddings are her favourite.’

Jenny smiled and went to get her notebook out of her bag. ‘Sure, it would be nice to hear what she thinks,’ she said.

‘But first, while I have you to myself,’ Jenny said, fixing her wide hazel eyes on Maggie’s, and lowering her voice, ‘I’m going to need a full update. How did it go with Dylan?’

Maggie liked the sea-spray taste of oysters, and the ones here were the best. She prised one loose with her fork and swallowed it, before taking a sip of the champagne Dylan had ordered.

When she’d arrived at the restaurant just before eight he was already there waiting at a little table in the corner.

‘Maggie, it’s so good to see you. You look beautiful.’ He stood back, admiring her.

She’d put on a slate grey silk dress for dinner and tied her hair up loosely, so that strands framed her face and fell gently onto her shoulders. Her make-up brought out the green in her eyes and silver drop earrings hung down almost to her shoulders.