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‘Are you sure she’s hasn’t got a brain tumour or something?’ she said to her dad in a stage whisper. ‘She doesn’t seem like herself.’
Her dad shook his head in mock solemnity. ‘My working theory is alien body snatchers.’
‘Oh, shut it you two,’ said her mum, swiping an arm in their direction.
‘Seriously though,’ said Minnie, ‘I think I was too quick to give it up. I even thought of an idea for how I could make the finances work without needing funding from charities. It’s no good thinking of these things six months too late though, is it?’
Minnie had been in the chemist buying shampoo when she’d had the idea. There was a ‘buy one get one free’ offer on haircare products. It reminded her of a silly pun Greg had pitched for the business last year – Pie One Get One Free. Then it hit her – what if she got the corporates to fund the pies for those in need? For every pie they bought for themselves, they’d buy another one for someone in the community who needed it. Businesses were always looking for ways to bolster their corporate responsibility, right?
She’d been frozen to the spot in the aisle, with Coconut Bliss in one hand and Passion-Fruit Explosion in the other. She’d felt that fizz of excitement that only comes with a genuinely good idea. Then she remembered the minor obstacle to enacting this genius plan; she’d dismantled the business, sold all her equipment and given up the kitchen lease. Even if she wanted to, she’d never get another loan to start all over again.
Minnie found herself telling her parents about the idea, even going into detail about how she would make it work. She didn’t usually talk to her parents about ideas like this; normallyshe wouldn’t be able to get to the end of a sentence before her mother pointed out a flaw in the plan. But today, sitting on the step in their garden, both her parents listened to her talk until she had finished. When she ran out of things to say, she looked back and forth between them.
‘Sorry, was I going on a bit?’ she said.
‘Sounds like you have to do it, Minnie,’ her mother said softly. ‘I’m sorry if I wasn’t supportive enough before. I didn’t see how important it was to you.’ Her mother reached over and put her hand on Minnie’s knee. ‘Maybe I didn’t always say the right things, you know. No one gives you a manual on how to be a mother.’
She looked pained at the effort of getting the apology out. Minnie patted her hand.
‘I know, Mum, it’s OK.’
‘So, you’re going to do it then?’ her mum asked, wiping the corner of her eye with a finger.
Minnie wrinkled her nose as she shook her head. ‘I should have thought of it earlier. I couldn’t get the funds together now.’
‘Couldn’t you get an investor, someone who believed in the idea?’ asked her mum.
‘Dragons’ Den,’ said her dad, his eyebrows shooting halfway up his bald forehead.
‘I didn’t invent pies, Dad.’ Minnie pushed her hair back behind her ears. They were both egging her on now, making her think it might be possible. ‘Even if I could persuade some investor to come in, I’d need some seed capital myself. I’d have to be invested too.’
‘How much we talking?’ asked Dad.
‘How much what?’ said Minnie.
‘For this seeding capital?
Minnie shook her head. ‘At least ten grand, I don’t know. More than you’ve got lying down the back of the sofa, Dad, but thank you.’
She leant into his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. It didn’t matter if the new pie plan didn’t happen. Just talking like this with her parents, where they both listened, and believed she might be able to do something – that meant so much.
‘Come on,’ said her dad, removing her head from his shoulder so he could stand up.
‘We’re done, are we? You’re not going to help me dig that concrete base out?’ asked her mum.
‘Not today, my love, we need a drill to break it up first. Minnie Moo, I want to show you something.’
‘Take your shoes off!’ her mum cried as they made to go in through the kitchen.
Dad led Minnie through to the lounge and pointed up at her favourite clock, the one she had given him – Coggie. Minnie looked at him, perplexed.
‘I remember the day you bought this for me. You lugged it back in your school bag all the way on the bus, must have weighed a ton. I bet there were a million other things you could have spent your pocket money on back then.’ He looked up at the clock with rheumy eyes.
‘Well, it looked like a piece of junk then. You polished it up, Dad.’
‘Only four like this left in the world, according to the internet. Apparently it’s worth four thousand quid now I got it working.’
‘No!’ Minnie cried, flinging a hand over her mouth.
