After the one, p.27
After the One, page 27
‘Yes, that might be true,’ said Pam sagely.
Then she went on to confide in Charley something she’d never admitted to a living soul before. ‘When Luke was born, I didn’t want another child. I loved him so much I was scared I would never be able to love another child as much as him. I just didn’t believe I could.
‘But Geoff was adamant we should have two,’ continued Pam, ‘He was adamant Luke should have someone to play with. So I did a terrible thing. I had another baby purely to give Luke a playmate.’ Charley didn’t say anything, but lightly touched Pam’s hand in a gesture of support. ‘And then Josh was born,’ Pam went on tenderly. ‘Out he popped, all scrunched up and wrinkled, and they bundled him into my arms, and then suddenly, there was this… this rush of love. It completely engulfed me – Josh brought it with him.’ Her throat tightened threateningly. She took a deep breath, while her eyes sought Charley’s and held her gaze. ‘We can all love more than one person, Charley. Loving Luke didn’t stop me loving Josh. Loving Josh mustn’t stop you loving someone else. He’ll always be a part of your life. As I will.’
Wordlessly, Charley put her arms round her mother-in-law, and Pam leant into the hug, resting her head against Charley’s.
Chapter Thirty-four
‘I’m not sure how to break this to you…’ Angie’s voice down the phone was hesitant.
Charley was in the shop trying to work out if she had enough power sockets. As it happened, she didn’t. The crafters, she remembered, had crisscrossed the floor with multi-plug extension cables, which she doubted was even legal – it certainly wasn’t safe. ‘What’s happened?’ she demanded urgently.
At the other end of the line she could her Angie take a deep breath, and her mouth went dry. She hoped to God nothing had happened to one of Angie’s kids.
‘A pipe’s burst in the school kitchen. A mains pipe. And the kitchen and the entire hall is flooded, so we can’t use it for the fundraiser.’
‘What?!’
Charley sat down hard on the nearest chair, her mind racing, and not quite understanding why they couldn’t use the hall – how long did it take to mop up a floor, for crying out loud?
‘Hang on, the Prosecco Night is nearly two weeks away. Surely they can get it cleared up by then?’
‘No. The water’s lifted the floor tiles. They’ve got to replace the whole floor.’
Bloody, bloody, bloody hell, thought Charley, sinking back into the seat. ‘What the hell are we going to do?’
‘We’ll have to cancel.’
‘Noooo!’
‘I’m sorry…’
‘It’s not your fault, Ange,’ Charley assured her, then added less tactfully, ‘But Tara’s going to be gutted.’ Charley was already gutted, partly because she’d ordered more than nine hundred quid’s worth of extra stock for the event, but mostly because she really, really didn’t want to let Tara down.
‘I can’t see any other option,’ said Angie, ‘unless we go back to holding it in your flat.’
The idea was so ludicrous that Charley laughed out loud. ‘We’ve sent out four hundred flyers! Twenty people in my flat is a squeeze!’
And then a notion slid sideways into her mind. She dismissed it, but it slid right back again. ‘Ange. I’ll call you back.’
Was it an insane idea to shift the fundraiser to the shop? She looked around the available space. It was just about big enough, but would people come down here? Would they want to trek all the way into town for what had always been a very local event? She wasn’t sure, so she called Tara, who didn’t pick up. She left the gist of the problem, and her solution, on Tara’s voicemail, then she called Nisha.
‘Good time, bad time to call?’ she checked, as usual.
‘Perfect time. Slogging through some accounts, and any distraction’s welcome!’
‘I’ve had what is either a very good idea, or a very bad idea. Or possibly a completely mad idea.’
Nisha pronounced the idea ‘inspired’. ‘It’s the perfect venue, and you can use the event to launch the shop.’ A suggestion which set off flutters of panic inside Charley.
‘I don’t think I’m ready to open yet,’ she protested.
‘You’ll have to be,’ responded Nisha brusquely.
‘No, seriously, I’m not,’ said Charley firmly.
‘Again, you’ll have to be. You can’t hold an event in the shop and tell everyone you’ll be opening soon, but you don’t know when. How unprofessional will that look?’
Loath as she was to admit it, she could see Nisha was right. Charley was beginning to wish she’d never come up with this solution. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back-pedal.
She heard a text ping in. ‘Hang on a minute, Nishe.’ It was from Tara. It read:
BRILLIANT IDEA! GO, CHARLEY, GO!
Shit, thought Charley. There was clearly no going back now. She took a deep breath and said to Nisha, ‘Right then, let’s do this.’
‘Excellent. I’ll get on to the local press. You get new flyers out promoting both the fundraiser and the shop opening ASAP. Get the other units at Cargo to give them out too, it’ll drum up support with the locals and regular shoppers, and will help promote the area for them, too. Do six hundred flyers.’
‘Six hundred!’ gasped Charley.
‘Don’t panic! They won’t all come on the night. But they will find all out about the shop, which will be great marketing.’
Six hundred flyers was, quite literally, six hundred invitations to an event in her shop. Charley looked round the small unit in dismay. ‘Nishe, this is my little shop remember! It’s not a Marks and Spencer’s!’ she cried.
‘Trust me, it’ll be fine,’ said Nisha calmly and rang off. Taking a deep breath and trusting Nisha as instructed, Charley grabbed an empty envelope and a pen and hurriedly wrote: ‘Call Angie – 600 new flyers needed TODAY.’ Then another thought occurred to her, and she added, ‘Check she can paint shop logos in time.’
She then jotted: ‘Call Felicity – post change of venue on PTA Facebook group and school website TODAY. New flyers to go out in book bags TOMORROW.’
Then Charley looked around the shop intending to list everything she still had to do to get ready for business, and realised the back of an envelope wasn’t going to be anywhere near big enough.
She had less than a fortnight to get the logos painted, the shop name put on the window; order the rest of the stock; get shop-branded paper bags and carriers made; stock the shelves, set out all the displays; get an electrician to put the sockets in; get a card reader and a till working…
Not surprisingly, the panic already simmering inside her threatened to boil over. She crushed it down. You can do this, she told herself. There’s a lot to do, but if you’re organised and drive it along and keep everything on schedule, it’ll be fine. Then she added, But you do know you’re insane, don’t you?
* * *
Since she was still working her notice, Tara pulled a sickie a few days later to help Charley and Pam in the shop. Charley was infinitely grateful to have all hands on deck. Most of the orders had arrived, and so now they were standing in the middle of the shop, drowning in a sea of products.
‘Where’s it all going to go?’ Pam looked round the shelves in despair.
‘I don’t even know where to start!’ cried Charley.
Tara doubted they’d fit everything in.
They spent the entire morning stacking things onto shelves, then promptly emptying them again, trying to work out where best to put everything. It was chaos. Jumbles of stock lay piled all over the floor.
‘This isn’t working,’ said Tara.
‘We need a plan!’ said Charley. ‘Let’s make a list of all the display areas, and shelves, and then do a list of the products and then…’
She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, because Angie arrived at that moment, ready to paint the logos on the walls and window. Eliot was at nursery, but she’d had to bring Finn. Naturally Pam was delighted, but Tara and Charley took one look at the energetic little toddler who was already wriggling impatiently, desperate to be released from his buggy, and promptly started sweeping everything up either off the floor or out of his reach before Angie could even unstrap him. She’d stuffed the changing bag full of toys and games to keep him amused and soon Pam and Finn were crawling around on their hands and knees setting up a farm. Watching them, it was debatable who was having the most fun, Pam or Finn, but it was probably Pam. No, definitely Pam.
‘More flyers,’ said Angie, handing over a wodge of them to Charley. ‘For the other shops to hand out.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, making a note to run them down to Ricky later. He’d offered to take them round since he knew the other traders better than she did, but just right now they needed to focus on which slogan should go where.
‘How about “Prosecco with Everything” on the window, because it sums up the shop,’ Angie suggested. ‘Then “Happy Prosecco Day” on the wall above the till, then, on the back wall above the clock, how about something like “Tick Tock, it’s Prosecco O’clock?”’
‘Perfect!’ said Charley.
‘Blimey!’ said Tara, ‘You’ve really thought this through. Charley was just going to go, “ip dip sky blue”!’
Charley poked her tongue out at her, and, of course, Ricky chose that precise moment to walk in, which made her feel like a complete idiot. Only to feel even worse when Tara and Angie both stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Ricky. Pointedly.
Ricky styled it out with his customary easy charm. ‘Morning,’ he said, his eyes taking in everyone in the room and embracing them with an engaging smile. Then he turned his focus to Charley. ‘Have you got those flyers?’
‘Yes!’ she said, handing them over. ‘Thanks very much for doing it. I really appreciate it.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’ He nodded at the others. ‘See you later,’ he said breezily, and left to go back to his shop, pausing only to look down at Finn who was pushing a tractor with a trailer full of plastic sheep around the floor. ‘Cool tractor,’ he said sincerely, and the little boy beamed up at him.
The second the door shut behind him, Tara and Angie did a slow turn to Charley.
‘And who was that?’ demanded Tara.
‘He runs the bike shop,’ Charley replied with studied carelessness.
‘Nice-looking chap,’ Angie said, her eyes glittering mischievously beneath raised brows.
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ lied Charley, not daring to look Pam in the eye.
‘Nice-looking body,’ added Tara suggestively, her eyes not leaving Charley’s face for a second.
Willing herself not to blush, Charley shrugged carelessly. ‘Yes, well, he probably cycles.’
‘So, you have noticed him!’ teased Tara.
‘He’s a friend. Just a friend! A local shop owner!’
‘He seems very keen to help you.’ Tara was merciless.
‘Very keen,’ nodded Angie, straight-faced.
‘Oh, pack it in! He’s just being neighbourly.’ Charley exclaimed. ‘Just trying to help a fellow entrepreneur!’ she finished, sounding way more pompous than she’d meant to.
‘Oooh!’ responded Angie and Tara before collapsing into childish laughter, which Pam was also clearly struggling to suppress. Charley studiously ignored them.
Clambering over Pam and Finn, and trying not to tread on them or inadvertently slaughter any farm animals, Charley and Tara went back to their monumental task of stocking the shelves, while Angie sketched the first slogan onto the wall. Then she filled the wording in with gold paint and outlined it with a fine line of black to make it stand out. Then she stuck her paintbrush over one ear and, apparently blissfully unaware of the streak of black paint now daubing her temple, she stood back and regarded her work critically.
‘What do you think? Is it okay?’ she asked tentatively. ‘And be honest!’ she begged.
‘Stunning!’ announced Charley.
‘Absolutely,’ nodded Pam.
‘It’ll do,’ said Tara with a perfectly straight face.
Charley rolled her eyes, and a smiling Angie cracked on.
As the slogan on the back wall was going above the clock, this meant Angie couldn’t quite reach to paint it standing on the floor. She picked up one of the wicker chairs, letting out a slight ‘oof’ with the effort of reaching around her huge bump.
‘You shouldn’t be lifting that,’ Tara told her sternly, and immediately, both she and Charley moved to take the chair from her.
‘Don’t fuss. It’s lighter than Finn,’ said Angie, putting the chair in place under the clock.
‘Be careful,’ said Charley.
‘It’s not being up here that’s the problem,’ said Angie, ‘It’s the getting up and down.’ Now over eight months gone, her enormous bump got in the way as she tried to step up on the chair, so Charley helped her climb up. Once she was up there she seemed steady enough, and Charley relaxed, leaving her to get on with her artwork.
The minutes flew by, with everyone involved in their own worlds of busyness, focused on their own tasks. There was nothing to alert Charley to what was about to happen, until it was too late.
Vaguely, she heard Angie cursing under her breath, and turning round Charley saw her stretching out, way too far, to reach to paint the very edge of the slogan above the clock.
And then it seemed to happen in slow motion.
The chair overbalanced and, yelping in fear, Angie toppled off sideways, crashing to the floor, her round belly hitting the corner of the table on the way down.
‘Angie!’ screamed Charley.
Charley leapt over Finn in her rush to get to her mate. Tara joined her only a fraction of a second later. Clambering to her feet, Pam instinctively swept Finn up into her arms to comfort him, where he struggled, wailing in distress with his arms out, urgently trying to get to Angie lying on the floor.
‘Mummyyyyyyy!’
‘I’m fine! I’m fine!’ Angie reassured him, before ungainly rolling over onto her hands and knees in order to push herself to her feet. Tara and Charley slipped one arm each under hers and gently helped her up. Angie was clearly shaken, and Finn’s eyes were still wide with fear and his little lip was trembling. No doubt anxious to calm her frightened little son, Angie deliberately made light of her accident.
‘It’s all right, sweetie. Mummy just had a bit of a bumps-a-daisy!’
The fear in the little boy’s face began to melt away and he settled more calmly on Pam’s hip, but his fingers continued to grip her shirt tightly. Tara and Charley were about to help Angie to sit down into the chair when she suddenly froze, frowned deeply and let out a small moan.
‘I think you’d better sit down,’ said Tara, exchanging an anxious look with Charley, but before Angie could lower her huge bulk into the chair, she winced and groaned again, even louder. Then, taking a deep breath and abandoning the chair altogether, she stood up, moved across to the table, where she leant on it, clearly trying to steady herself.
‘I’m calling an ambulance!’ cried Charley, whipping her phone out of her back pocket.
‘Mummy!’ cried Finn, thrusting his arms out to her, immediately scared again.
‘I’m fine, sweetie,’ said his mum. Then turning to Charley, she added, ‘Honestly. I’m only having Braxton Hicks.’
‘Branston what!?’ said Charley alarmed.
‘They’re sort of practice pains,’ Pam informed her calmly. ‘They’ll probably die down in a few minutes.’
‘Don’t panic,’ Tara said to Charley, then turning to Angie she asked if she’d like a cup of tea.
Tea? TEA? thought Charley, thinking everyone around her, apart from Finn, had clearly gone mad.
Angie nodded, and then uttered a long, loud groan. Charley made a decision. ‘I don’t care if they’re bloody Branston Pickles! I’m calling an ambulance.’
‘Charley, you’re overreacting,’ Tara told her. Pam and Angie both vociferously agreed with her, and all three of them started talking at once, telling Charley to calm down, stop panicking and not to bother the ambulance service… until Angie’s waters broke and splattered onto the floor.
Everyone froze.
‘Shit!’ said Tara under her breath.
‘Ah,’ said Angie, visibly forcing herself to keep calm, for Finn’s sake.
‘Mummy done a wee-wee!’ said Finn, scandalised.
‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine,’ said Pam, to nobody in particular, but in an attempt to reassure everybody.
Thirty seconds later, Charley told them the ambulance was on its way. She just bloody well hoped it would arrive before the baby did.
Chapter Thirty-five
Charley paced up and down the shop like a panicking first-time father, anxiously nipping outside every now and again to see if she could see the ambulance. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, she spied a couple of paramedics in their dark green overalls, calmly walking towards her.
Walking? What’s the matter with these people? she thought. ‘Where’s the ambulance?’ she cried, rushing up to them to guide them to the shop.
‘We had to leave it on the double yellows round the corner,’ one of them told her nonchalantly. ‘There was a van in the way.’
For crying out loud! Please, tell me this isn’t happening to me.
Technically of course, it wasn’t happening to Charley, it was happening to Angie.
‘How often are the contractions?’ one of the paramedics asked Angie, once they’d got to their patient. When she replied they were still several minutes apart he simply said, ‘Can you walk to the ambulance?’
‘For goodness’ sake!’ cried Charley. ‘Haven’t you got a wheelchair or something?’
‘I’ll be fine to walk,’ Angie assured her, then she gave Finn a big hug and a kiss, and told him to stay with Tara.
‘Want Baa-Baa!’ wailed Finn. Angie stopped to fish the bedraggled and beloved fluffy sheep out of the changing bag and handed it to her son with a smile. Then, after plonking a kiss on the top of his head, she turned and calmly waddled off with the paramedics, Charley hovering anxiously at her elbow.
