Page 99 of Who’s That Girl?

‘No, I’m fine.’

But it’s too late – he’s already adding both.

‘What was that, dear?’

‘Um, nothing … thank you.’

He smiles cheerfully and passes Oliver a cup, then rattles a biscuit tin. ‘Shortbread finger?’

I hesitate, my eyes flicking over to Oliver, who’s watching me with interest. ‘Er, yes, thank you.’

Well, he’s such a sweet old man, I can’t say no, can I? Plus I think the fact that I’d eaten nearly half of Oliver’s ice cream by the time he emerged from the toilets disproves the nutritionist’s theory that I’m intolerant to wheat, refined sugar and dairy.

‘So how are you, Granddad?’

‘Oh, you know.’ He waves his hand vaguely, a sad expression falling over his face. ‘I’ll survive.’

‘Granddad’s got to shut the shop,’ explains Oliver, patting his granddad’s arm supportively. ‘He’s been here over sixty years, so he’s finding it a bit difficult.’

‘Oh, no,’ I cry. ‘That’s awful. Why do you have to leave?’

‘Things move on, times change,’ shrugs his granddad, taking a sip of tea, his hand trembling slightly.

‘It’s got nothing to do with time moving on,’ gasps Oliver angrily. ‘His lease has gone up to something crazy and he can’t afford it any more. He’s being squeezed out.’

‘By who?’ I exclaim.

‘Probably another overpriced coffee chain,’ tuts Oliver, not bothering to hide his disgust. ‘Or one of the big designer stores. They’re all moving in around here now, taking over the neighbourhood, trying to make it like bloody Knightsbridge.’

‘Hey, now, there’s no need for swearing,’ reprimands his granddad, shooting him a disapproving look.

‘Well, I can’t help it – it’s disgusting. They have no respect for someone who made the area what it is. It’s all about money and profits.’

‘This shop has certainly seen me through some times. I met my late wife, Betty, here,’ remembers his granddad, turning to me. ‘She came in to buy a china teapot. Yes, she did,’ he adds as if I don’t believe him. ‘Ended up with a whole lot more than that,’ he quips, and laughs his rumbling laugh. ‘After she passed away, I thought about selling up, but to do what?’ He shrugs his shoulders. ‘Antiques are in my blood, and look at me, I’m a bit of an antique myself now.’

‘But what are you going to do with all your antiques?’ I ask, then immediately regret it. I don’t want to upset him.

‘EBay,’ he says simply.

‘EBay?’ Trust me, that was not the answer I was expecting.

‘Apparently, it’s all quite straightforward, though it will take a while to list everything. I even have a PayPal account.’ He flashes me a smile and I smile back.

‘It won’t be the same, though,’ mutters Oliver angrily.

‘Ah, well, what can you do?’ sighs his granddad with the calmness of a man who’s lived through a lot. ‘Everything has to come to an end.’ There’s a pause as he looks at us both. ‘I’ve spent a lifetime dealing in expensive objects, but do you know what’s the most valuable?’

‘What?’ we both ask with interest.

‘Time,’ he says simply. ‘You can’t buy back time, not for any price. There are no second chances. Every second is precious, so don’t waste a single one. Time, quite literally, is priceless.’

I look at him, absorbing his words. Is that what I’ve been given? A second chance?

‘More tea?’

I zone back to see his granddad looking at me. ‘Um … yes, thanks.’ And pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I hold out my cup. ‘That would be lovely.’

Chapter Twenty-nine