Ben twisted round to see a couple hanging around the shop’s front window, their noses all but pressed to the window.
‘Monty said it was ours, but if they’re willing to pay the full amount…’ Poppy let the sentence hang, her eyebrows raised.
Damn it. She was right. And he wanted this place. Had done since he saw the advertisement. The exposed bricks, the polished floorboards, the simple but chic décor. It was perfect for a gourmet tea shop. ‘Fine. Pass me the pen.’ He took in a deep breath as he scrawled his name, and prayed he wasn’t making a mistake.
‘Fantastic.’ Poppy scooped the papers up from under him. ‘Monty. We’re all signed up.’ She passed the papers to their new landlord then half-danced, half-skipped her way to the front door, opened it and flapped her hands at the would-be tenants. ‘Sorry, shop’s gone. Good luck with your search. Have a fab day.’ She twisted round and rubbed her hands together. ‘Right. What are we waiting for? We’ve got two shops to open. Sophie? Joe? Consider this your last day of freedom. Be here tomorrow morning at nine sharp.’ Poppy turned her attention back to Ben. ‘As for you and I, let’s get the keys and you can take me to my new abode, and we’ll nut things out there over a bottle of something yummy. My treat.’
***
‘Well, this wasn’t what I expected.’ Ben did a slow three-sixty as he took in Poppy’s new home, tucked away on the top floor of a terraced house that had been converted into flats. The open-plan living and dining area was on the small side, with just enough room for the two-seater couch, coffee table and dining suite. Through an open door he spotted a bed, and another door, which presumably led to the en-suite. Despite its cosiness, it was surprisingly elegant, with white-washed wooden floors throughout, walls painted in a soft grey, and the architraves and skirtings in a fresh white. ‘It must be a relief that you were able to rent it furnished.’ Ben ran his hand over the cream knotted throw that lay over the soft chestnut-coloured leather couch.
‘Yeah, well, I knew I wanted to hit the ground running when I arrived, so it just made sense to find a place that was all set up for me.’ Poppy grabbed the bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d picked up on their way home and cracked the lid. ‘Screw tops. How did we ever live without them?’
‘My father calls them the work of the devil.’ Ben rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and shook his head.
Poppy’s laughter filled the space, light and free. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ She sloshed the wine into two glasses and passed one to Ben. ‘So, what made you do such a U-turn? Upping and leaving a safe, secure job in order to start your own business venture? That’s not the Ben I grew up with. And, how is your father taking it?’
Ben swirled the wine round, creating a miniature maelstrom. He inwardly grimaced; it was the perfect symbol for the current state of his life. ‘He’s taking it as well as you’d expect. Dad can’t get his head around me wanting something other than what he wants for me, if that makes sense. All these years and we’ve shared the law. Bonded over it. Now… I’m doing what makes me happy. Pursuing a career that fills me with joy in here…’ He tapped his heart. ‘A career that excites me. I think Dad sees that as a betrayal. Hell, I know he does.’ He took a sip of wine, hoping to wash away the grief that had created a knot in his throat. ‘We’re not really talking right now. Mum’s trying to mediate, but…’
‘She’s wasting her time?’ Poppy moved to the small dining table and pushed aside the curtains, allowing the late afternoon light to spill into the room.
‘Something like that.’ Ben pulled out the chair opposite Poppy, sat down and closed his eyes against the sun, glad for the moment to rest, relax… and try and figure out what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.
‘“Why did I agree to this?” That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’
Ben opened his eyes to see the tip of Poppy’s tongue peeking out between her lips, a teasing smile lifting her lips.
‘I’m not going to screw this up, Ben. I promise. Sparkle & Steep is going to be amazing.’ Poppy took a sip of her wine and set the glass down. ‘It’ll be as brilliant as this view. Look at the view, Ben. Isn’t it brilliant?’
Ben turned to the window and saw a length of London sprawling before him, the cityscape rising tall and proud into a bright blue sky. ‘You’re right, it’s brilliant. God, I can’t believe you managed to find this place while living on the other side of the world.’
‘I’m lucky like that.’ Poppy grinned, her fingers rhythmically drumming on the table. ‘I’m also lucky to have you. You could have said no to me coming into the shop with you. You could have told me to stay in the car back there. You could have flat out refused to entertain the idea of going into business with me. But you didn’t. So, thank you.’
‘You’re not going to make me regret it, are you?’ Ben laid his hand over Poppy’s, stopping the incessant drumming.
‘No. I’m not. We’re going to prove your father wrong. More than that, we’re going to make him proud.’ Poppy lifted her glass. ‘To us. To Sparkle & Steep.’
Ben raised his glass to meet hers, then took a sip as was tradition. Making his father proud. Poppy made it seem so easy. So simple. But how did you make a man proud when you’d walked away from a profession that, for the men in his family, being part of was every bit a tradition as sipping your drink after proposing a toast?
‘Stop stewing, Ben.’ Poppy sprung up, crossed the room to where she’d dumped her backpack, then unclipped and rifled through it, sending a tattered lump of greyness, with a faded rainbow mane, falling to the floor.
Mr Flumpkins? Surely not? Had Poppy really carried the unicorn she’d found in Alexandra Park and – after being unable to find its owner – decided to adopt, around the world with her? She must’ve had him for twenty odd years by now.
‘Am I seeing things? Is that… Mr Flumpkins?’
Poppy hugged the soft toy to her chest. ‘It is. In the cosy, cuddly fluffy-ish flesh.’
Ben held his hand out, and Poppy passed the toy to him. ‘I can’t believe he’s still in one piece.’
‘Barely.’ Poppy continued rummaging through her bag. ‘He nearly lost his ear in an airport escalator a couple of years back. Fell out of my backpack, nearly got chomped, poor wee soul. Luckily a young girl snatched him up and gave him back before it was too late.’
‘I’m surprised she didn’t keep him for herself.’
‘Hardly. She told me I needed to chuck him and get myself a newer, prettier one. She liked the ice cream I bought her to say thanks well enough though. Ah, here’s what I’m looking for.’ She pulled out a shining, shimmering notebook, a pen threaded through its ringed spine. ‘We need to plan how we’re going to do this thing.’
Ben placed Mr Flumpkins on the windowsill and straightened up. Yes, a plan was needed. Big time. With a plan in place he’d feel less like he’d been shoved into a whirlwind and spat out again.
‘So…’ Poppy slid into the chair, opened the notebook and wrote the name she’d proposed at the top of a blank page. ‘I was thinking we could have multi-coloured chairs scattered around multi-coloured tables. Industrial style metal ones. They’ll look amazing. Also, unicorn-headed teaspoons. Oh, and I could get some of those cushions that are covered in sequins that can be brushed two ways to create different patterns so that the chairs are nice and comfy for those who want to sit and natter.’ She reached over and grabbed her mobile from its spot on the kitchen bench. ‘Find out where to get reversible sequin cushions,’ she said aloud as she typed the reminder into her phone. She set the phone down