Page 35 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

Despite the interior of the shop carrying something of a mish-mash of tartan and Scottish-inspired pictures of misty lochs and crumbling Highland castles, Helena loved it.

The couple of mornings she had worked so far, Helena would walk Marnie to school, before heading off to the shop. She would bury the festering worry about Donald discovering her little secret.

As she approached Sparkling Gifts, with its shiny windows and its sign painted duck-egg blue and silver, she allowed herself a little glow of satisfaction. The June morning was nondescript, but the other businesses were waking up from their slumber.

Helena felt part of something. She flicked her dark, shiny hair back over her shoulder and hurried in.

There had been the first delivery of crockery, and Mrs Auld, an ample-bosomed woman with a permed ball of coppery hair and warm smile, hovered over the sealed boxes that the delivery driver had deposited on the counter. “Ah. Just in time, Helena. I think these are for you.”

While Mrs Auld fussed around, rearranging some ornamental picture frames, Helena tugged off her fitted white jacket and hung it in the cloakroom.

She thought back to when she was hesitating at the welcoming gift-shop door that morning after noticing the job advert, tiny pinpricks of light beaming out, like a shy, inviting smile. The opportunity had presented itself right there in front of her.

Before she married Donald, Helena had worked in a couple of different department stores in Glasgow. It was there that her passion for crockery had manifested itself.

She would read up about the latest fads and fashions for crockery, learn about Bisque pottery being the most popular type of firing, transforming the object into a porous state for glazing and allowing the potter to do much more decorative work with stains, underglazes, and glazes, with a greatly reduced risk of the pot being damaged. She learnt that many potters preferred pulled handles to strap handles, with pulled handles possessing a more organic quality and a more fluid line. So, unlike the other young women who worked beside her, Helena could enthuse with genuine knowledge about the various crockery styles and fashions, rather than just spout empty facts about how pretty that particular teacup was, or what a competitive price that teapot was going for.

Originally, Helena had been employed in the perfume department of the prestigious Glasgow store Drury’s. She enjoyed being surrounded by the incessant exotic scents and the sumptuous engraved bottles, but it was the crockery department that drew her attention, with its displays of gingham tablecloths, glossy cups and ornate teapots, set amongst plumes of flowers.

So Helena, once she felt confident enough in her knowledge, braced herself and approached Mr Hannigan, the crockery department manager.

He had been puzzled at first as to why this doe-eyed young woman with the hair and the curves had wanted to switch from perfumery to his domain.

But when Helena drifted around the various displays, appreciating what she saw and talking with such enthusiasm and conviction about a teapot lid not fitting properly if it was separated during the drying process, Edgar Hannigan knew she would be an asset to his team.

Helena continued to build upon her knowledge, and after gaining further experience at Drury’s for the next two years, she was headhunted by the store manager of the rival department store Carter’s. Promised an increase in salary and the role of crockery department manager, Helena was unable to resist.

Carter’s was not the usual type of store Donald frequented, but he was running out of ideas for presents for his mum and hoped the crockery department might provide the answer. But, as it turned out, it wasn’t the Spode or the Royal Albert that drew his attention. He’d admitted afterwards that it was the lovely sales manager, with the sparkling light blue eyes and her tumble of dark hair, that he had been far more interested in.

Her life had changed so much since meeting and marrying Donald. Now, Helena saw this job as the chance to retrieve some of her old self that she felt had become lost.

Donald had no idea his wife still longed to own her own little crockery shop; to indulge her deep love while possessing more of her own independence. He also didn’t know Helena had held onto her prized tea set acquisitions.

They were all secreted away in boxes, stashed behind her assortment of shoes at the back of her wardrobe. She couldn’t be parted from them. That would have been like confessing that her ambition would never come true, and she couldn’t bear to think that.

Helena set her shoulders now as she occupied herself with the delivery. She was already mentally planning how she would arrange the first of these new arrivals on the empty shelves.

She had entered the door of Sparkling Gifts that day a couple of weeks ago and put it to Mrs Auld that she could boost her sales if she stocked some crockery, saying she would love to help her get her fledgling business off the ground.

At first, Mrs Auld’s reluctance had been visible. But there was indeed, as Helena pointed out, a generous section of space in the centre of the shop, which needed to be filled, and after some nail-biting suspense Helena had managed to persuade her.

So here she was now, two weeks later, ready to begin another shift and another new day.

Helena’s happy fingers reached for the pair of scissors on the counter and proceeded to dismiss the brown tape. She knew that it was a question of when, not if, Donald discovered what she was doing. There would be angry recriminations and accusations that she had been sly and deceitful.

But right now she refused to engage with the nagging worry lurking at the back of her mind. She was enjoying herself too much.

The next few days vanished before my eyes, as I confirmed stock orders and the delivery dates for my shiny new till and credit-card machine and looked over the designs that Ewan had come up with for signage for The Cup That Cheers.

He’d conjured up three different suggestions, which were all lovely. In the end, however, I opted for his second design. It jumped out at me from my laptop screen and there was just something so traditional and old-shoppe about it, which would complement the atmosphere I was aiming for. It composed of the words The Cup That Cheers in elaborate white looping letters on a deep lilac background.

Sat to the left, beside the word The, was a lilac and white teapot, with a matching teacup to the right of Cheers. Ewan had also designed a smaller version of the signage, which would be suspended from the silver pole above the shop door.

All the strands seemed to be coming together at the moment, which was a relief, although I wasn’t prepared to take this for granted. From my previous life, I knew only too well how things could go wrong, however much organisation and forward planning went into something.

Still, if arrangements continued to progress as I hoped they would, I planned to open on 30th June.

As Ewan’s email sat on my laptop screen in front of me, I curled my feet up and underneath me on the sofa.