Calling All Customers (Calling All... Book 3)

by Tara Ford

  “If we’re lucky?” Dolly harrumphed. “No. They’ve forecast several inches.” Dolly slapped her paper on the counter. “You’ll be scuppered if you get no custom, won’t you, dear? And we’re hardly lucky, are we?”

  “I’ve heard it all before, Dolly. They say it’s going to snow and we’re usually the only town that misses it.”

  “Sounds like you want it to snow.”

  “Don’t mind a bit of the fluffy white stuff, now and again. It looks nice.”

  Dolly huffed. “Ok for you, I suppose. Just wait until you get older, dear. You won’t be so eager then. It can have devastating effects on the elderly, you know.” Dolly peered into her purse and pushed some coins around. “Fuel bills increase in this cold weather… and that’s hard on pensioners. Not to mention the risks of going outside. Older folk have brittle bones which break easily. A fall could be fatal – you really have no idea do you?”

  “Dolly…” said Jenny, exasperatedly, “… it might not even happen here. Stop fretting.”

  “I’m not fretting, my dear. How dare you say that I’m fretting. It’s about time you saw sense – living in your dream world of lie-ins and false promotions.” Dolly’s face flushed a deep scarlet and she quickly resumed her faffing with the coins in her purse.

  “Think we both got out the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

  Throwing a couple of pound coins onto the counter, Dolly puffed her saggy cheeks out. “I have no problems getting out of bed in the mornings, dear. And I get out of the right side. Now let’s just stop this silly nonsense. Mark my words – there will be snow tomorrow.” Extending a hand to collect her change, Dolly grinned smugly, before walking out of the shop.

  A polar wind blew through Jenny’s hair as she locked the shop’s door. It was eerily light under the orange and peach coloured night sky. Snow clouds, thought Jenny as she pulled her coat around her tightly, buried her face into the furry collar and walked round the corner to her jeep.

  Snow. Not a blanket covering. Not even a dusting or a peppering. Approximately one flake per square metre, to be more precise. However, more pale grey clouds billowed across the sky in undulating waves, threatening to burst their contents on the earth below.

  “It’s coming,” said Dolly, smugly. “Told you it would snow.”

  “I’d hardly call three flakes, snow,” replied Jenny, folding her arms across her midriff, defiantly. “I expect we’ll get another three and that will be it.”

  Dolly peered out of the window at the sky. “No, they said it’s all coming today. Just wait and see, Jenny.”

  “Ok, you win. I’m sure you’ll be right, Dolly.” Jenny looked out of the window too and watched a clumpy flake of snow fall to the ground and then start to melt. Little Wilbur shivered under his padded jacket and shook his head as another flake landed on top of his nose.

  “I’d better get Wilbur home – he doesn’t like the snow. Too cold for his little feet.”

  “I’d image it is – poor thing. You should get him some snow boots.”

  “Oh no. I won’t be taking him out in the snow, dear. He’s far too small and delicate. Goodbye.”

  It was quieter than usual. And that really is quiet. Apart from Dolly and her gang and the nursery’s miserable staff collecting their order earlier, there had hardly been anyone else in the shop, at all. Millen Road was bereft of pedestrians and vehicles. Even the nursery’s morning rush hadn’t rushed. The snow had continued to fall, sporadically, during the morning but every tiny snowflake that landed safely, suddenly disappeared into a miniscule pinprick of a puddle.

  “It looks like it’s getting heavier,” said Dayna, turning round from the window and taking her hot chocolate drink from Jenny.

  “Yes, it does a bit. Great – that’s all we need. This place doesn’t need snow to look like a ghost town.”

  “Ah, it’d be nice if it laid. I love the snow. Me and Xaylan could build a snowman.”

  Jenny shot a cursory glance through the window and leant back against the counter, gripping her hot mug in both hands. “Yeah… it’s nice to look at… until someone goes and spoils it by walking through it.”

  “It is laying, you know…” Dayna looked harder, through the window. “Yes, it is now,” she said, excitedly. “Look!”

  By midday, Jenny and Dayna estimated that there was about one centimetre on the ground. “Blimey, it’s really coming down heavy now,” said Jenny. “Perhaps we should put salt out on the pathway.”

  Dayna nodded, in agreement. “Yep, we’ll do it while you’re having lunch.”

  Jenny looked out at the snow covered houses across the road. Somehow, snow always managed to make any place look picturesque and serene. A sense of calm washed over her as she gazed, absent-mindedly, at the curtain of frosty white specks cascading down in swirls and twists as the northerly wind blew stronger and stronger.

  “Might give the leaflets a miss today, if that’s ok?”

  “Oh God, of course it’s ok, Day. I didn’t expect you to do it in the first place, let alone carry it on for months, whatever the weather.”

  Tasha walked through the door and dusted the snow from her coat, her rosy cheeks and bright red nose suggested it was extremely cold outside. “It’s freezing out there,” she said, pulling her gloves off. “It’s the wind. Makes it like a blizzard.”

  Lunch break over and an hours nap thrown in, Jenny stood up from her chair and stretched. The warmth rising from the heater next to her desk, had zapped every ounce of energy from her earlier, but now she was raring to go. Stepping into the shop, she was surprised to see the bright glare from the windows at the far end. Everything in sight was white. There was certainly a blizzard going on now.

  Dayna had got the ‘Wet Floor’ signs out and placed two at the front of the shop. The new, wide mat at the front door was soaking wet and little drifts of snow had built up, all along the window frames, outside.

  “Wow,” said Jenny, mesmerised by the dramatic transformation in just two hours. “You going to be ok getting home in that?” She looked at Dayna and then turned back to the whitewashed view out on Millen Road. “Even the road is covered – how are you going to drive down there?”

  “I’ll be ok. It’s you two I’m worried about.” Dayna rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “If it carries on like this you’ll both get stranded up here.”

  “Four wheel drive, don’t forget – I’ll be fine. And I can run you home, Tasha, if you’ll be prepared to wait.”

  Tasha smiled, “Thank you but my mum’s got a jeepy-thing – it’s got special wheels for snow – so she says, anyway.” Tasha stared out of the window, alongside Jenny and Dayna. “She’ll pick me up.”

  “I’m going now, wouldn’t be surprised if Xaylan’s school closes early. It might have shut already and he’s at home with Mum. I’ll phone first, come to think of it.”

  “Go on then – otherwise I will be taking you home. Look at it now.”

  The evening came and the blizzard continued, relentlessly. Opening the front door, Jenny guessed that the snow was at least six centimetres deep now. Her car was good in conditions like these but momentarily, Jenny doubted the safety aspect of driving home in it. Locking the door, she pulled her hood over her head and tentatively trudged round to her car and jumped in.

  The ride home had been treacherous and Jenny sighed a breath of relief as she went inside her warm, cosy flat. Along the route home, she’d spotted several abandoned vehicles, particularly at the bottom and top of Millen Road. The road’s steep inclines had prevented a lot of cars and vans from going up or down.

  Have you got home ok? Tried ringing the shop. A xx

  Yes, home now. It’s really bad out there. What’s it like in Birmingham? X

  Nothing here, makes a change. Normally the other way round. Seen it on the news – can’t believe how bad it is down there. Xx

  Let’s hope it’s gone by the morning. Xx

  Hope so. Expect it’s been dead in the shop, has it? Xx


  Reasonable, considering. X

  Ok, got to shoot – out with clients. See you on Saturday, miss you madly xx

  Miss you too, have fun x

  Jenny flicked the TV on and turned to the news channel. Snow. Everywhere. More snow to come. Stranded vehicles on the motorway. Mayhem across the south. How the UK can’t cope with a sudden onset of extreme weather. Not enough grit for the minor roads. Accidents, stories of courage, stories of woe, tales of dramatic rescues. And on and on. Jenny flicked the television off and padded through to her bedroom, making a mental note to apologise to Dolly if she turned up tomorrow morning.

  A last peep through the curtains before she went to bed, Jenny watched the giant snowflakes continue to fall. Each clump of icy perfection that reached the ground, would add to the ensuing havoc in the morning’s rush hour if it carried on like this.

  Chapter 40

  It certainly was highly risky. Jenny managed to cautiously steer her way through the minor roads and out on to the deserted main road. There were no indications of a morning rush hour forming later and the snow continued to fall, softly and silently. It wasn’t as heavy as the previous day’s onslaught but still damaging enough as it fell on top of yesterday’s compacted, frozen landscape. A grit lorry, struggling to cope with the conditions on the roads, passed by Jenny as she skillfully maneuvered her vehicle through the crispy, white town. More abandoned cars and vans. Eerie and still the town lie under the thick snow, waiting to be rescued, waiting to cope and already waiting for the melt.

  “Jordan,” said Jenny, surprised to see him, yet worried only moments ago, that he wouldn’t come. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  Jordan brushed the snow from his coat and grinned. “I walked here – sorry I’m a bit late.”

  “No, don’t be sorry. I’m surprised you’re here at all. Can’t believe you’ve walked.” Jenny smiled at his rosy cheeks and red nose. “Are you sure you want to do it? I mean, I could probably go in the Jeep.”

  “No, it’s cool. School’s closed – I can walk. I like the snow.”

  “Well, if you’re sure, they’re here.” Jenny passed the bundle to Jordan and watched as he put them in his bag. “If it gets too much, bring them back and I’ll go later. They’ll all have to be patient and wait, I mean – what do they expect in these adverse weather conditions?”

  Jordan sniggered. “If you get lots of phone calls, tell them I’m on my way. It might take me a bit longer though.”

  “I will and I might even tell them that they should pay some danger money for your efforts.” Jenny looked out of the window at the relentless weather. “Seriously though – you be careful, won’t you.”

  Nodding his head, Jordan smiled and walked out of the shop, cautiously.

  While Jenny listened to the elderly dog walkers (excluding, Dolly) harping on and telling tales of hardship, having squabbles about who had the deepest snow drifts around their properties and discussions about the weather reports of more snow to come, the phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, politely and picked up the phone.

  “Hello, it’s Andrea – from the nursery. We’ll have to cancel our order today. The nursery’s shut.”

  “Ah, thanks for calling, Andrea. Somehow, I didn’t think you would be opening today.”

  “I’m surprised that you are,” Andrea huffed down the phone. “You’ll be wasting your time – no one will go out in this today.”

  “Well, I need to be open, so we’ll see. Let me know when you’ll be back, it’s not a problem to do an order on the hop.”

  “Ok, thanks… oh, and good luck with the shop today.”

  Jenny laughed, “Thanks – I might need it.”

  Jenny watched through the window as Tasha climbed out of her mum’s Nissan Qashqai, closed the door behind her and stood waving as the car reversed slowly, from the parking bay. The snowfall had subsided over the last hour but the depth on the roads, was treacherous, not to mention the pavements.

  “Hello,” called Tasha from the front door. Stamping her feet on the ground, she flicked the snow from her fur-lined boots, before coming inside. “Mum’s going to pick me up later – it’s terrible, isn’t it?”

  Jenny nodded, agreeably. “At least it’s stopped now.”

  “Weatherman said we’ve got more this afternoon.”

  Rolling her bottom lip, Jenny folded her arms and wondered whether Andrea had been right earlier. “Haven’t had many people in here. It’s like a ghost town. It’ll get worse if there’s more snow to come.”

  “Hmm,” replied Tasha. “Shall I make us a warm drink?”

  “Yes please and then I’ll get some paperwork done, while we’re quiet.”

  Jen, I won’t be able to get in unless you can come and get me. My car won’t make it up those hills and there are no buses running. Unless I start walking now, lol xx

  I’ll come and get you at 11.30. Tasha should be ok – we’re dead here x

  Paperwork hell. Jenny was boggle-eyed and brain-dead. But she had to make use of this time. She had to sort out her finances and see the real picture of where she was in the ‘will I make it/will I fail?’ stakes. Surprisingly, out on the shop floor there had been some noise. The sounds of people talking. Tasha laughing, in a controlled manner for a change. And most importantly, the till beeping.

  Snatched from her reverie, Jenny bolted upright as the office door opened.

  “Jenny, I’m sorry to disturb you but… the milk… it’s almost gone. You’ve got four cartons left.”

  “Really?” said Jenny, surprised.

  “And the bread…” Tasha swivelled her head back and peered at the shelf behind her. “Yes, there are one, two… five loaves left.”

  Jenny rose to her feet and looked past Tasha. “Where’s it all gone?”

  “Sold it. I couldn’t get down here sooner – I’ve been so busy.” Tasha looked worried. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, I’m amazed. You should have pressed the buzzer though, if you’ve been that busy.”

  “Sorry… I was too busy to think about it.”

  The front door opened and three people walked in, stamping their feet on the rug and staring around the shop, with astonished expressions on their faces.

  “Loads of people have been in… said they didn’t know you were here…” said Tasha, before she shot off up the aisle, to the counter.

  After four cartons of milk, five loaves and a till drawer bursting at the seams, Jenny thanked the last customer for coming to her shop for the first time.

  Gone.

  The salt had gone, along with all of the bread and milk. Even the dishwasher salt had disappeared.

  “Blimey,” breathed Jenny, “what’s going on? I’m running out of everything. I’m going to have to go to the wholesalers – get some bread and milk, at least.”

  The door opened again and in walked two more people. “Didn’t know this shop was here,” said the larger of the two young women. “How long you been here?”

  “Oh, quite a few months now,” said Jenny, trying to contain her excitement.

  “You got any milk?” The smaller woman asked. “KO Store’s got nothing. They can’t get any deliveries.”

  “Oh really?” Jenny sighed. “I’m afraid that I have just sold the last of my milk… but…” Jenny eyed Tasha, desperately. “… but we’ll have some more… within an hour.”

  Tasha nodded her head. “Yes… we will.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be ok if I go to the wholesalers?” whispered Jenny, concerned about leaving Tasha alone but realizing that this could be her opportunity to turn the shop around.

  “Yes – you need to,” Tasha replied, earnestly.

  “That’s good – so can we wait here? We’ll have a look around the shop while we wait,” said the larger woman, peering down the first aisle.

  “Yes… of course,” replied Jenny, meeting Tasha’s eye again. “You sure?”

  “Yes – go.”

  “Jenny?”

/>   “Yes, hi Tasha – everything ok?”

  “Yes… err… I’ve phoned to say that you might want to pick up loads of bread and milk… I’ve… err… got a queue of people waiting. And salt too. Everyone is asking for it.”

  “Blimey. Ok, I’ll go back round and get double of everything. Should be back in twenty minutes.”

  “Oh good… err… Jenny… one more thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “Are we doing deliveries to vulnerable pensioners who are housebound?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve had five or six phone calls from people, asking if we deliver and saying that they didn’t know we were even here. They are all phoning back in half an hour or so.”

  “Oh my God – yes! Tell them I will deliver.”

  “You might want to triple your order then… I’ve got a shop full here and the pensioners want loads of stuff.”

  “Right – I’m on it, Tasha. Be back as soon as poss.”

  “Oh… don’t forget that you’ve got to pick Dayna up too.”

  “God – yes, I’d better do that on the way. I would have forgotten her. Thanks Tasha – you’re a star. See you soon.”

  Dayna just squeezed into the car but had to keep her knees tucked up to her chin. The car was full with bread, milk, salt, dishwasher salt and a few other odd bits that Jenny had been meaning to order from her suppliers. Maneuvering through the deserted town, Jenny cautiously headed for the steep inclines of Millen Road.

  “There’s no way that I would have made it up here,” said Dayna, staring wide-eyed through the windscreen. “It’s madness – you’re braver than me, Jen, to even attempt it.”

  “Haven’t got much choice. Got to keep the shop open and I’m glad I did now.”

  As they pulled up to the shop, both Jenny and Dayna stared in amazement.

  “Bloody hell,” said Dayna. “How many people…”

  “God – it’s full.”