‘No. Should it have?’ I wandered back to her.
‘No. I didn’t think it would. But it was funny to watch.’
‘Auntie Kay! That’s mean.’ I gave her a little shove.
‘I couldn’t resist. So, what are you going to do first to create your dream premises?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I really wasn’t expecting an empty shell. Maybe I could get the walls skimmed? There seem to be a few bits of damaged plaster where the shelves were.’
‘Great plan. No time like the present. There’s aYellow Pagesin The Outback.’
I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘Yellow Pages? Seriously? I thought they stopped printing those years ago.’
‘You’re not inthatLondon anymore,’ she said. ‘We still get them around here, although it may be a couple of years since I got the last one.’ She pointed towards a phone in the corner. ‘The landline’s still connected. There’s a handset there and another on the desk. I suggest you get calling.’
I glanced at the phone and tutted. ‘That reminds me. I need to get myself a new mobile but I can’t justify the cost, even with your generous loan.’
‘What happened to yours?’
‘It was a work one so I had to give it back. I feel like I’ve lost a limb.’
‘It’s your lucky day, then,’ Auntie Kay said. ‘I’m treating myself to a new phone for my holidays so you can have my old one.’
‘Really? Oh, that would be amazing. Thank you.’
‘Pleasure. Right, I’m off. I’ll come back late this afternoon to see how you’re getting on.’
‘You’re leaving me?’Panic!
‘I have a holiday wardrobe to buy. Linda and I are off to York.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing. You need me out of your hair so you can be creative. See you later.’ With a tinkle of the bell she was gone.
Locking the door behind her, I headed into The Outback and my eyes flicked to a small pile of envelopes and leaflets lying on the desk.
‘That must be the post Auntie Kay picked up when we came in,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Let’s see. Pizza flier. Not now, thanks, just about to have my croissant.’ I dropped each item on the desk as I discarded it. ‘Electricity bill. Auntie Kay can have that. Floristry magazine. Good for a bit of inspiration, must get it transferred into my name. Business card for Steve Higgins, Window Cleaner. Bank state— Hang on a minute, business card for whom?’
8
I grabbed the card and stared at it. Steve Higgins. Steve. Steven. Before I had time to think about whether or not it was a good idea, I picked up the desk phone and dialled his mobile number. What was I going to say? He could be my destiny. I didn’t want to mess up our first conversation. I nearly hung up but the ringtone changed signalling voicemail. Phew.
‘Hi, this is Steve Higgins, window cleaner.’Sounds nice. Friendly.‘I’m sorry I can’t answer.’Polite. Always a good sign. ‘I’m probably up a ladder right now…’Sense of humour. Up a ladder. Just like a fireman. Swoon.‘… but leave your name, number and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as it’s safe. Bye.’
He had a strong confident voice with a slight North Yorkshire accent. Nice. Leave a message? Don’t leave a message? Dilemma.
‘Hi Steve. We’ve never met…’Crap. I should have hung up. What a rubbish line. Must try to recover it.‘My name’s Sarah. Sarah Peterson. I’m the new owner of Seaside Blooms on Castle Street. It’s my first day and I’ve just been sorting through the post. You dropped a card through the letterbox…’Friendly and confident. Business-like, but with a fun tone of voice. Well recovered. ‘I need you…’And completely ruined again. What is wrong with you?‘I mean I need a window cleaner. Can you stop by? I’m here all day.’Disconnect now. Quickly. Before you utter another word.
I hung up and shook my head. ‘I need you.’ What the hell was that? And now I’d invited him to stop by. He could betheSteven Madame Louisa talked about and I’d asked him to come to the shop when I was wearing scruffy clothes and no make-up.Well done, Sarah. That was clever.
After a year of not caring, my appearance suddenly mattered very much. I’d never been one for designer clothes, unlike Clare, but I had always taken pride in my appearance. The non-proposal and steady weight gain had put paid to that. I didn’t feel good so why bother to look good? My hair was long, dark, and naturally curly. I used to spend ages teasing it into new styles I found on YouTube or taming it into sleek shiny locks with my GHDs, but scraping it back into a ponytail seemed so much easier. I’d never been one for spending ages on my make-up, but I used to make a bit of effort. A bit of effort was soon replaced by virtually no effort: a dusting of loose powder to take the shine off and a slick of mascara. Frizzy hair in a ponytail and the natural look weren’t going to attracttheSteven, were they?
I glanced at my watch. I didn’t have time to get back to Mum and Dad’s to change so there was nothing for it; I had to go shopping. I downed the last of my hot chocolate, looked sadly at the untouched croissant and grabbed my bag.
Carrier bags in hands, my pulse raced as I power-walked back down the precinct towards Castle Street. Glancing at the clock outside the shopping centre, I did a double-take.No! I can’t have been gone an hour and a half. It’s not possible.But the mountain of carriers dangling from my aching arms told me it was. Clothes, make-up, shoes. I’d even bought some new lingerie. Okay, so Steve Higgins wasn’t going to see my underwear at our first meeting butI’dknow I was in a matching set of bra and knickers for the first time in a year and I’d feel good, which would come over to him as sexy and confident, therefore creating a good first impression.
I hastily unlocked the door. Another business card lay on themat.Don’t say I’ve missed him. Not after all this effort.I picked it up and turned it over. In neat capitals on the back it read:
