‘Well, at the risk of getting in trouble, such is the story of my life.’ The woman winked. ‘I’ll take them.’
‘That’s great, thank you. But the box is heavy, shall I put it out the back for you?’ Henry flashed her a smile. He liked her cheeky style and decided to play along. The few older women he’d met in Los Angeles had stiff, expressionless faces. Those he knew from his own circles — his mother, aunts on her side and those he met at functions — tended to be stiff in other ways — serious, stuffy sorts. This woman had lived, and it showed. She reminded him of Mrs Perkins, who had been the housekeeper at Dapplebury House when he was younger. He liked her.
‘You’re not going to steal from us while you’re out there are you?’
Henry let out a deep laugh. ‘No. I promise.’ He held up his hands.
‘Good, you didn’t look the sort, and I’m usually a good judge.’
As Henry lifted the box from the counter, pretending it was heavier than it was, the woman grabbed his arm. ‘Wait, I’m meant to ask you if you’ll Gift Aid your donation, sir.’ The mocking tone in her voice suggested she had been told this many times.
Hmm, details.Henry didn’t want to give details.
‘Do you pay tax? Oh, bother, I’m not meant to say that. I mean . . . ah hum.’ The woman reached under the counter and read from a piece of paper she had to hold at arm’s length despite her glasses. ‘We get twenty-five per cent extra, from thegovernment at no cost to you, you just need to pay tax within the UK to be eligible.’
Henry softened at the thought of his donation raising more money for the charity. ‘Sure, why not?’ Taking the form, he wrote down the details of Ted, the elderly, but still on payroll, resident gardener at Dapplebury House.
The woman looked at the form and peered over her glasses. ‘Well Ted, I don’t know what you’ve been taking these past months, but my goodness, you’ve aged well since I saw you last.’ She raised her eyebrows expectantly, causing her glasses to slip a little further down her nose.
‘Ha!’ Henry swallowed. ‘You must know my . . . uncle. I’m . . . staying with him for a bit. Sorting a few things from his cottage,’ he lied.
The woman’s expression softened. ‘He’s never mentioned you. But I’m pleased he’s got someone looking out for him — family, such a treasure to have. Tell your uncle, Flo said hello.’ With that, she winked again.
Henry wondered if Ted had any family looking out for him. They had spent many long afternoons together when Henry was younger, and an enjoyable few hours wandering the grounds of Dapplebury House since his return, but Henry realised, he knew little of his personal life.
Flo stuck a Gift Aid sticker on Henry’s box of donations and continued, ‘I’ve missed Ted this past year. My herbaceous border’s not been the same since he stopped calling. He had the best hardy perennials for miles your uncle.’
Henry coughed and picked up the box once more. ‘I’ll, um, just pop this through shall—’
‘Can I try these on?’ The customer who had now chosen two pink T-shirts from the rail interrupted.
‘Of course.’
As the woman disappeared into the changing cubicle, Flo leaned over the counter and whispered, ‘At that size, you either go for baggy and have no shape, or go for fitted and show your shape. Neither’s ideal, but my money’s on the latter with that one.’
Feeling embarrassed for the woman, who Henry was quite sure could hear every word of Flo’s not so hushed whisper, from behind the curtain, Henry didn’t respond but motioned to the box instead. ‘So shall I?’
Her full attention returning to their conversation, Flo smiled. ‘Where were we? Oh yes, back in the day—’
As the door to the shop opened, and a young woman holding hands with a toddler came in, Henry couldn’t help but think he’d had a lucky escape regarding whatever “back in the day” memory Flo had been about to share. He seized the opportunity to head through the door that was marked private at the back of the shop.
If the front of the shop was a treasure trove, the back was an Aladdin’s cave, packed with all manner of things waiting, yet to be discovered. Henry called out hello, but the silence made it clear nobody was there. Not knowing which of the overflowing sorting pens he should put it in, he placed the box on the floor next to a large sorting table — surrounded by an array of price stickers, hangers and size cubes. Disappointment welling inside, Henry turned to leave, but as he did so, he spotted the noticeboard. A newspaper clipping with a picture of Ava and her mum stood out, alongside it was a tribute to “The Founder and Much Missed Champion of All Critters Great and Small”. It spoke of Lily Flynn’s passion for the charity and her untimely death from natural causes. Henry was shocked, his thoughts instantly with Ava. She and her mum had had a tumultuous relationship; Ava often feeling second best to the animals her mum cared for. He looked again at the article and then at hissurroundings. Would guilt have made Ava give up on her own hopes and dreams? Henry didn’t know, but he intended to find out. Leaving the box under the table littered with piles of clothes that were presumably part of the “too much stuff” to sort, he left.
As he headed back through the shop, Flo gave him a wave from the counter and held up the slim-fitting pink T-shirt of the now crimson-faced customer with a wink.
Chapter Eight
With Mary kindly offering to take over from Flo to ensure cover at the shop, Ava decided to head straight home and take Myrtle out for a walk. Discovering the dog had been sick and didn’t seem her usual tail-wagging self, made her reconsider. Myrtle was rarely ill, no matter what she ate or rolled in on their walks. Ava looked into her large, doleful eyes, and promptly decided that an afternoon in, snuggled up in front of an open fire, might do them both good.
Once she was satisfied that Myrtle was comfortable, Ava made herself a coffee and decided to get her sketchbook and materials out. Working on the display at the charity shop had reminded her how long it had been since she had done anything creative. It was no wonder she had been feeling so tense; she had long known drawing was good for her mind, and spirit.
The dozy dog, in her cosy surroundings, provided the perfect muse. Blocking in Myrtle’s basic shape and features was made easy by the fact she didn’t stir. Using a light touch, Ava began to sketch in a few details. It was satisfying, calming even. With Myrtle sound asleep Ava didn’t have to focus on getting her eyes straight; practice over the years meant she’d improved at this, but still it was always the part she found most difficult when putting pencil to paper. Next, she started drawing in the details, and the portrait began to take shape. She confidently added faint lines to gesture at Myrtle’s folds of skin and ruffles of fur.
Ava knew the trick was not to overthink but to let the ideas and the pencil flow as one. Working from dark to light, Ava added in shading to demarcate the shadows, and the picture began to have greater depth. Even asleep, Myrtle’s gentle, loving personality was evident, and Ava could feel how blessed she was to have her in her life.
Picking up her coffee and taking a swig, Ava winced at the fact it was now cold. She decided to make herself another before beginning to remove her guidelines and starting to add definition and final touches. She enjoyed working methodically. Ava knew one of the things she found hard about working in the charity shop was the unpredictability of what would come in. She had no control over the quantity, quality, or size of donations they received, sometimes making it a matter of doing what she could to organise the chaos.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Myrtle lifted her head and barked, but didn’t move from her cosy spot by the fire. Few people called at Ava’s house. Generally, Mary would be her first thought, but she usually let herself in the back door and, besides, Ava knew she was at the shop.
