‘Anything for such hammy acting,’ Elsie giggled.
‘The thing is, I was wondering if you could drive me to Croydon.’
‘Croydon? That’s a two-hour round trip!’
Daisy gave an apologetic smile. ‘I know, and ordinarily I wouldn’t bother but I’m doing a pitch for a potentially massive client account on Friday and we need to style a concept room. It’s all a little last-minute but there’s a particular type of look we’re going for. So I need to visit …’ she lowered her voice, as if she was about to divulge some potentially dangerous information ‘… a certain Scandinavian home furnishing store.’
Highly amused by her sister’s admission, Elsie feigned shock. ‘Daisy! No!’
‘I know.’
‘Whatever would Dad say if he knew you were patronising that place?’
Daisy visibly paled. ‘Promise me you won’t tell him? I can hardly believe I’m heading there myself. The thing is, my car’s out of action all week – the re-spray the garage did when I hit that bollard last month wasn’t satisfactory, so I told them I expected it to be rectified. I think I scared them sufficiently to do a proper job this time. You know I wouldn’t ask unless it was really necessary. Please?’
‘No problem,’ Elsie replied, seeing the relief on her sister’s face. ‘But I hope you realise you’ll owe me. For a long time …’
Daisy hugged her. ‘I’ll find a way of repaying you, don’t worry.’
On Wednesday evening, when the last customer made a reluctant exit from the delights of Sundae & Cher, Elsie flicked the Open sign to Closed and headed to the kitchen where Cher was busy going through her order sheets for the next day.
‘Last one out?’ Cher asked, nibbling on a teddy-shaped wafer as she worked.
‘Finally. I think Mrs Annick has almost managed to demolish the tub of Sticky Toffee Pudding ice cream single-handedly this week. And she always looks so crestfallen when I tell her we’re closing. I think she’d quite like to live here if she could.’
Cher’s throaty laugh ricocheted around the lemon-yellow kitchen tiles. ‘Obviously I’m missing a trick there. I should make the place an ice cream B&B.’ She cast a critical eye over Elsie. ‘You OK, kid?’
Elsie rubbed her forehead and drew a chair up to the preparation table. ‘A bit tired, but otherwise I’m good.’
It was only a partial truth, but the rest of it was difficult to put into words. Ever the pragmatist, Elsie had put it down to all the new things that were happening in her life and the significant decisions she was making, all of which were bound to carry an emotional cost. Being able to look objectively at everything was a step forward in itself – eighteen months ago her view of the future had been markedly different. So, while she would admit to feeling more than a little apprehensive about meeting Daisy and Woody this evening to set the wheels of the choir project in motion, it was a good thing. ‘A little bit of fear can get you moving forward,’ her father always said, himself not immune to the unexpected twists and turns of life.
‘What time are the others turning up?’
Elsie checked her watch. ‘In about ten minutes. Right, what do you want me to do before they arrive?’
Cher dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her scarlet-painted nails. ‘Don’t you worry about that. Pop the kettle on and let’s have a cuppa. Mine’s a Rooibos, please.’
Elsie smiled. ‘Yes, boss.’ She flicked the switch on the kettle and fetched one Rooibos teabag for Cher and a peppermint teabag for herself. ‘Thanks for letting us meet here this evening, hun. I didn’t trust Daisy in a pub setting. One glass of red wine and she’d be likely to tell Woody exactly what she thought of him: the choir would be over before we’d even started.’
‘Not his biggest fan, eh?’
‘You could say that.’
Cher stretched and pushed her order sheets away. ‘I might hang about and meet this famous Woody, then. If he can wind your perfect sister up that much then I’m intrigued.’
Elsie handed Cher a mug of tea. ‘Be my guest. In fact, I can sign you up as our first official member if you fancy it?’
‘No fear,’ Cher snorted. ‘My loopy mother might’ve named me after a singer but that’s as far as the association goes. My voice could curdle our entire stock.’
Daisy was on time, of course. Despite the fact that she had worked a long day, she looked fresher than Elsie did first thing in the morning, dressed in a well-cut grey trouser suit, her long blonde hair swept to one side in a low ponytail and one of her many pashmina scarves draped expertly around her shoulders. For the umpteenth time, Elsie marvelled at her older sister. No wonder she had reputedly left a string of broken hearts across Brighton and beyond during her twenty-eight years on the planet: Daisy Maynard was one of life’s beautiful people. Not that she realised it, of course. But then that was one of her most endearing qualities. Her partner André, while not the most demonstrative of men, had said as much to Elsie when she had last seen him, at Jim’s birthday party a couple of months ago:
‘She’s stunning. Every day I wake up beside her I’m amazed she can’t see it.’
Daisy’s choice of partner had been the source of great consternation to her father, especially when he knew how often they were apart, but André’s successful business life seemed to suit Daisy’s strong independence and somehow they made the relationship work. Recently, however, Elsie had detected a tiny note of dissatisfaction creeping into Daisy’s comments about her boyfriend. Perhaps she was beginning to want more – but, as with most things in her life, she was remaining tight-lipped.
Elsie was closer to Daisy than she was to Guin, largely because she had idolised her eldest sister for as long as she could remember, but also because, with their mother out of the picture during most of her childhood, Daisy had assumed an almost maternal role in the Maynard household. Now they were simply best friends who happened to be siblings, and Elsie was fiercely proud of their relationship.
‘I take it our former rock star hasn’t arrived yet?’ Daisy asked, already prepared for battle.
‘He’ll be here.’
‘Hmm.’ She sat down at one of the tables and produced an expensive Moleskine notebook from her handbag. ‘Maybe it would be better for all of us if he didn’t bother.’
Irritated, Elsie sat opposite her sister. ‘I told you that you didn’t have to be here this evening. I don’t expect you to hold my hand, you know. Besides, Cher’s in the kitchen – any trouble from Captain Hellfinger and she’ll manhandle him off the premises.’
Daisy had to smile at the mental picture of retro Cher ejecting the rocker from her ice cream café. At that moment, the brass bell above the door jangled to herald Woody’s arrival. He stopped in the doorway, looked up and nodded sagely at the bell.
‘Cool. For whom the bell tolls, yeah?’ He walked over to Elsie, grabbed her hand and blessed it with a bristly kiss. ‘Angel.’
‘Hi, Woody. Great you could make it.’
He nodded again, his eyes making a considered survey of the café interior from behind his sunglasses as he shrugged off his fringed black leather jacket to reveal a faded grey Mötley Crüe T-shirt beneath. ‘Good vibe here. I sense the satisfied souls of generations, man. Ice cream is a great healer of hearts and hurts.’
‘It certainly is.’ Cher had entered from the kitchen and was observing Woody with a wry smile. ‘I’m Cher Pettinger. I own this place.’
With one move, Woody removed his sunglasses, hooked them over the back pocket of his jeans and slid across the harlequin tiles to Cher’s side, his eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of her enviable figure in her low-cut white blouse and turquoise circle skirt with matching heels. ‘Then you must be an angelic visitation into this poor rocker’s life. If your wares are as inspirational as your establishment, I wouldn’t mind sampling them.’
Cher lowered her false eyelashes and purred, ‘Easy, tiger.’
Daisy rolled her eyes heavenwards and picked up her pen. ‘Much as I hate to break up t
he party, can I suggest we get started? Els and I have to go to Croydon straight after this meeting.’
‘Croydon? Who goes to Croydon for anything?’ Woody frowned but Daisy’s interruption had achieved its purpose, bringing him back to the table.
‘Thank you. Now I think we should discuss what we’re trying to achieve with this choir. What songs will we sing? Are we forming for a particular performance opportunity or simply as a social gathering?’ Daisy looked up from her list at Elsie and Woody’s bemused expressions. ‘What?’
Elsie placed her hand gently on Daisy’s. ‘This is Woody’s vision. And I’m helping him with it. You’re here for moral support, remember?’
‘Well, I was only trying to help …’
‘I know and, believe me, you’re being a great help. Lots of important things to consider there, which we will, after we’ve heard what Woody has to say.’
Open-mouthed, but remembering that Elsie stood between her and the questionable Swedish home décor she needed for work, Daisy folded her arms and nodded at Woody.
‘Good girl,’ he grinned, oblivious to the killer death stare Daisy shot back. ‘This choir – and I don’t even want to call it a choir because it’s more like a meeting of musical minds – it needs to be meaningful, yeah? None of that Ave Maria shizzle. No offence, Daisy, if you like that kinda stuff. I’m just working to a higher calling. We’re gonna represent the greats – bestowing their music on this generation so the legends live on in hearts and minds. We’ll be like undercover agents for the forces of music: choir ninjas, if you will. We’ll strike fast and hard, leaving minds reeling with musical missiles, man. It’ll be a spiritual awakening for the masses, through the medium of musical mash-ups. So whaddya say?’
Elsie didn’t really know how to respond. Woody’s vision didn’t sound like any choir she’d ever encountered – more like an underground resistance movement than a group of people getting together to enjoy singing songs. It was immediately obvious to her what she could bring to the table in this partnership: sanity, mostly.
‘It all sounds very impressive. But to get to where you want this to be, I think we need a more – um – practical strategy. What type of people are we looking for to be part of this? And, perhaps most importantly, where are we going to rehearse? I called a couple of church halls and community centres today and I have to say it’s not looking promising. Those that aren’t booked up completely during the week are either too far out of town or ridiculously expensive.’
Woody looked as if he had just lost the award for Best Band 1984 to Black Lace. ‘But this thing has gotta happen, Elsie! I saw it in my dream …’
‘How many people do you think you’re looking for?’ asked Cher.
‘It depends who responds when we put the call out for singers,’ Elsie replied. ‘We can try to get a story in the local papers and I thought I’d make some posters and see if I can get the shops and pubs in North Laine to display them. My guess is we’ll probably get five or six people to begin with.’
‘So meet here,’ Cher suggested. ‘I presume you have a keyboard or something you can bring?’
Elsie nodded, thrilled at Cher’s kind suggestion. But not as thrilled as Woody Jensen was. For at that very moment he had leapt from his chair and scooped Elsie’s boss into a dramatic Hollywood clinch, as Daisy looked on in sheer horror. Breathless and laughing, Cher broke free from Woody’s embrace and straightened her blouse.
‘Blimey, if that’s the reception I get for offering you a venue for the choir, I’d like to see what happens when I offer you something you really need.’
Woody’s grin was pure lechery. ‘Stay around for long enough and you might find out, treacle.’
Cher winked at Elsie. ‘Ooh, I like this one. You can bring him again!’
An hour later, as Elsie and Daisy drove towards Croydon, Daisy was still struggling to cope with the outrageous flirting she’d witnessed.
‘Talk about overt. I thought they were going to ignore us completely and just go at it right in the middle of the café,’ she shuddered.
Keeping her eyes on the building traffic ahead, Elsie smiled. ‘I thought it was sweet.’
‘It was obscene. I’m not surprised he acted that way but I would’ve thought Cher had more sense.’
‘It was nice to see her having fun,’ Elsie replied. ‘She’s had a bit of a rough run lately with her latest flame.’
Daisy tutted and stared out of the passenger window. ‘And she thinks that man is going to be any better? Well I’m glad I was with you. Who knows what kind of moves he might have pulled on you otherwise? You know what they say about rock’n’roll stars and their liberal behaviour …’
The traffic lights ahead changed to red and the car came to a halt in a long line of early evening traffic. Elsie let out a sigh and turned to her sister.
‘Dais, you’re going to have to find something to like about Woody if you want to be a part of this choir project. Or else it might be best for you to bow out now.’
Her sister stared at her. ‘Is that what you want?’
The traffic inched forwards, anticipating the signal change.
‘Of course it’s not. But I also don’t want to have a battle raging between the two of you. The choir is meant to be fun, remember? Either sort it out or don’t be involved.’
The green light framed Elsie’s flint-like expression as the car pulled away from the junction. For a long time, neither sister spoke, the only sound the robotic tones of the sat-nav lady.
‘In. Point-five miles. Turn. Left. On. Beddington Farm Road. Then. Turn. Right.’
The familiar yellow and blue warehouse came into view and Daisy took the opportunity to break the silence. ‘Looks like we’re here.’
‘Arriving. At. C-R-0. 4-U-Z.’
‘It would seem we are.’
‘Els, look, I’m sorry. He just seems to bring out the worst in me. But I’ll try to get on with him, I do want to be involved in this project.’
Elsie reached across and patted her sister’s knee. ‘Then that’s good to hear.’ She surveyed the busy car park before them. ‘My life, I wasn’t expecting it to be this busy.’
The vast car park sprawled around the superstore was heaving with cars as they crawled at a snail’s pace along the rows. Some vehicles had clearly given up looking for actual spaces and were jacked up at awkward angles on the surrounding pavements, while others lurked ominously behind parked cars with open boots being packed by grim-faced shoppers. It was every person for themselves today it seemed, a reality quite at odds with the relaxed Scandinavian images the chain displayed on its enormous billboard signs across the car park.
‘Maybe we should have set off earlier,’ Daisy mumbled, the smallest hint of panic beginning to sound in her voice.
‘We’ll find a space, don’t worry,’ Elsie assured her, scouting the lines of parked cars ahead for any glimpse of a departing vehicle or vacant space.
‘I beg to differ. This is worse than Christmas.’
‘We’ll find one,’ Elsie repeated. Suddenly, she saw it: at the end of the row, barely visible behind the boot of a tank-like four-by-four. But it was a space … Putting her foot down, Elsie sped towards it and practically handbrake-turned her car in. Flushed with pride at her daredevil parking skills, she whooped loudly and turned to a pale-faced Daisy, just as a car horn blared loudly behind her.
‘Did you see that? Am I the Queen of Parking Space Spotting or what? Daisy? What’s wrong?’
‘I think that car was waiting.’ Daisy nodded towards a sleek black Jaguar that was furiously screeching away.
Elsie was unrepentant. ‘Their fault for not claiming it quickly enough.’
‘But they were indicating …’
‘Daisy. You wanted to come to this highly questionable home store – despite what Dad would say if he ever found out – and if I hadn’t parked in this space we could well have not been able to stay. It was a genuine mistake on my part. I didn’t see there was a car waiting.
But this kind of thing happens all the time, so stop worrying and let’s go inside, OK?’
Reservations thus laid to rest, Daisy agreed and they stepped out of the car.
‘That was a pretty nifty bit of parking, I’ll give you that.’
Elsie locked the door and grinned at her sister. ‘High speed stunt-parking is one of my many specialities.’
‘Oi! You should drive with your eyes open, love,’ an angry voice shouted behind them. Elsie and Daisy turned to see a man storming in their direction. Never a fan of confrontation, Daisy groaned and hurried quickly towards the store entrance. Elsie made to follow, then froze as the features of the fuming figure came into view. Oh no. Surely not …
At exactly the same time, the man recognised Elsie and skidded to a halt inches away from her. ‘You!’
‘I don’t believe this.’
‘Un-be-lievable!’
Elsie sighed and stared at him. ‘I didn’t realise you were waiting, OK? I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sorry.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘But you still stole my space.’
‘Your space? Oh, forgive me, I didn’t see “Torin’s Space” painted across the piece of public tarmac I just parked in.’
Torin raised an eyebrow. ‘So, you remembered my name?’
Irritated, Elsie folded her arms. ‘I happen to have an excellent memory.’
‘So do I, Elsie Maynard. Man, it seems like you just can’t keep away from me, doesn’t it? First that awkward incident with your pile cream and now this …’
‘Whatever.’ Elsie had heard enough. Her blood boiling, she slung her handbag on her shoulder and headed quickly towards the entrance to the store.
‘This isn’t the end of this,’ Torin called after her, an annoying chime of amusement in his voice that made her cringe even more. ‘Mark my words!’
Reaching the vast entrance where Daisy was waiting, Elsie virtually yanked her sister up the escalator into the shop. ‘Do you have your list? Good. Let’s find what you need and get out of here as soon as possible.’
When I Fall in Love Page 5
