Page 23 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

The first of May saw the closure of A Bloom with a View and the transfer of the shop keys to me.

I wasted no time in contacting the auctioneer Gran had recommended, Howard Thrall, who couldn’t have been more helpful. He was very sorry to hear of my grandmother’s passing, but was very enthusiastic about the tea sets she had instructed me to sell – especially when I emailed him pictures of them that I took on my phone.

In fact, he was on the verge of salivating. “I knew Helena had some interesting pieces, but I had no idea she possessed the likes of a Theodore Wende and a Roy Lichtenstein,” he gushed into my ear. “I know of several buyers who will be falling over themselves to bid for such acquisitions for their collections.”

I frowned into my mobile. “And you have no idea how my grandmother came to be in possession of them?”

“None at all. All she did say was that she was given them as a present many years ago, but by whom and why, I don’t know.”

Though my heart lifted at the prospect of some additional, much welcome capital to fall back on for launching the business, I couldn’t help but puzzle over who had given Gran those very valuable tea sets and why. It was one thing to give a friend perfume or a treasured photograph, but crockery that could sell for thousands of pounds?

Howard spoke again, breaking though my thoughts. “I will arrange for the crockery to be collected by a couple of my people.”

Fortunately, Mrs Cotter had taken great care of the shop premises and it didn’t require any major refurbishment. All I intended to do was have it redecorated and put my own stamp on the place. The front of the shop would benefit from a fresh lick of white paint and I’d opted for lilac windowsills and decided to paint the door in the same shade. I wanted to have the shop display an eclectic mix of crockery, from the antique and traditional to retro and more funky, modern sets. I also had ideas charging about my head, about regularly changing the window displays to follow certain themes and ideas, not just reflecting Christmas and the seasons. Maybe I could have a display dedicated to Alice in Wonderland, with my own take on the Mad Hatter’s tea party? Or do a homage to Mrs Potts and Chip from Beauty and the Beast, with a Disney-themed display?

I had also conducted a little bit of detective work around the other businesses, dropping in and asking the owners and customers what they thought of Briar Glen having its own crockery shop. The feedback I received was very positive. Comments ranged from “That will attract the tourists” and “There’s a definite gap in the market round here” to “Oh God! My wife would never be out of the place!” Hearing the enthusiasm for my new business was heart-warming, but I knew I was only starting out and I was therefore keen to take things steadily by not recruiting too many staff to begin with.

Coming up with a catchy and memorable name for my business was on my ever-expanding to-do list lot as well! I had made a list of four or five possibles and continued to mull them over.

As Dad was a plumber, albeit on the brink of retirement, he knew many of the local tradespeople. “You let me know when you’ve decided on the décor you want and I’ll speak to a couple of the decorator lads I’m friendly with.”

Mrs Cotter too, had been so kind, offering her assistance. “No doubt I’ll be bored to tears during my retirement, so you don’t hesitate to give me a call when you want,” and she had pressed one of her old business cards into my hand.

It was fortunate in so many ways that in my previous life I had been a wedding planner. Like my mother, I had always been a ferocious to-do-list maker, keen to be organised, and being able to put those organisational skills into practice with the shop at least gave me a shred of confidence – and was now vital!

I brainstormed what I thought I needed to do: everything from redecorating the shop to accessing a till and credit-card machine; setting up a website and social media accounts for the business; making contact with the crockery suppliers Gran had recommended in her letter, and thinking about what I should do with regard to taking on staff, as well as factoring in the costs of local and regional press advertising.

Craig Adler, Mrs Cotter’s accountant, was now on board, which was a huge weight off my mind. I had trawled through online crockery businesses, to get a feel for prices. Although much of my stock would be at the higher end of the tea set world, I would also be selling more modest but just as pretty and eye-catching designs. I wanted to bring the joy of crockery to the masses and I wouldn’t be doing that if I was solely selling expensive sets.

My aim was to establish a cosy haven, where my customers could browse, admire, appreciate – and then buy!

After ploughing through a ridiculous number of glossy interior design brochures and coloured paint charts, I decided upon lilac (my favourite colour) for the shop walls and Scottish Mist, a soft white with a tinge of grey, for the shelves and counter.

The rich, dark wooden floor was, to my relief, still in good condition, so Dad suggested another coat of varnish just to freshen it up.

Mrs Cotter’s old workroom, once the place that housed all her blooms, ribbons, tissue paper and extra stock, would also have the same lilac walls and off-white shelving and would be the ideal space to contain my new arrivals of crockery and hold all the stock in their boxes.

Mrs Cotter had left behind her old desk in the office. It was a rather forlorn-looking, scratched affair in morose mahogany, but possessed a lot of character. I imagined it all glossy and injected with new life, so I decided to undertake this task myself and research the best technique for restoring mahogany. From the advice I located online, the consensus was to buff it up with some petroleum-based lighter fluid and fine-grain sandpaper and then paint it with an oil-based varnish.

Dad helped me transport the desk home and I proceeded to spend the next few evenings in old denims and my hair pulled up into a severe topknot, lost in buffing, sanding and then sweeping a topcoat on. I found the whole process rewarding and relaxing, watching the tired wood ease back to life. It was a pleasant escape from the frantic days.

As I slicked on the topcoat, watching the bristles of the brush glide and sweep, I wondered what Gran would have thought if she could see me now.

I was working flat out, my mind careering from stock one minute to debating and searching for shop name ideas the next. I was even thinking of checking out the cost of having a special Briar Glen teapot commissioned to sell. Something with an image of the Briar Glen blue rose on it would look lovely.

I was determined to give this venture everything I had. But that didn’t stop echoes of apprehension stealing over me at regular intervals.

What did help calm my nerves somewhat was a welcome phone call from Howard Thrall.

I assumed it would be several months until there was any hope of him being able to sell Grandma’s acquisitions. Instead, it took us two weeks.

“I have good news for you,” he said down the phone with an almost audible grin, as I pored over my lists of outgoings and things still requiring action. “I had no problem at all selling the lot.”

I sat up straighter on my silver and grey hessian sofa. There had been a mid-May downpour that afternoon and the fields out of my sitting-room window dazzled under a blanket of raindrops.

It took a moment for my brain to catch up. “Wow! Thank you so much,” I breathed with surprised relief.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he insisted.