by Heidi Swain
‘Look at how she’s pegged up the advent calendar,’ Jemma said, tugging at Lizzie’s sleeve. ‘And she’s hung the little stockings under the bunting!’
‘It really is beautiful, Ruby.’ Lizzie nodded. ‘I hope you’re feeling as proud as we are?’
‘I am now,’ I beamed.
‘Right,’ she said, steering Jemma to one side of the stall and waving her phone about. ‘Now come on you two, squeeze in. This is one moment of Cherry Tree history that simply must be recorded!’
‘Hang on there!’ called Peter, as he rushed over to Lizzie’s side. ‘Can I be of assistance? Surely the three of you should be in the shot together?’
With the happy moment recorded for posterity, Jemma and Lizzie headed back to the cosy confines of the café, with the promise to come back at lunchtime with something warm and nourishing to help thaw me out.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say the day dragged, but business was far from brisk, even though I had displayed the Cherry Tree wares as enticingly as possible. On more than one occasion I found myself wishing there were a few more customers to be had, and not once was that because I was concerned with upping my profit margin.
Not long after Jemma and Lizzie had returned to the Cherry Tree, I found my eyes beginning to repeatedly wander to the Dempster stall next door and no matter how hard I tried to rein them in, they seemed hell-bent on watching how Steve conducted his business. Like a moth to a flame, and kidding myself that I was picking up top tips on customer service, I had watched him chat easily with shoppers, help carry heavy bags to cars and coo over dribbling babies, and none of what I witnessed helped to strengthen my resolve that working alongside him wasn’t going to be a problem.
‘How have you got on?’ asked Jude as she ventured over at the end of the day and inadvertently blocked my view of Steve helping a mum with a loaded buggy and a fractious toddler.
‘How have I got on with what?’ I asked, trying to look around her.
‘Earth to Ruby!’ Jude laughed, waving a hand in front of my face.
‘Sorry,’ I said, finally focusing on her and remembering my manners. ‘Sorry. I think the cold has addled my brain!’
It wasn’t even four o’clock, but thanks to the generous cloud cover it was already almost dark.
‘Have you had a good day?’ she asked again.
‘Well,’ I said, guessing that she wasn’t referring to watching the eye candy next door, ‘I haven’t exactly got a lot of experience to draw on,’ I frowned, peering into the rather meagre depths of my cash box, ‘but in terms of how much money I’ve taken then I’d have to say no, not really.’
I had practically sold out of Jemma’s pretty cellophane bags of biscuits, and most of the iced and cinnamon spiced buns. However, I had a feeling that was more to do with the fact that she had been giving out free samples in the café and then sending customers in my direction, rather than any unique sales technique on my part. A couple of Lizzie’s Christmas decorations had also headed off to new homes, but that was it.
‘How about you?’ I asked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other and imagining the seductive pleasure of immersing my aching limbs in a hot Soap and Glory scented bubble bath. ‘Have you had much success?’
‘Not a single sale,’ she told me, shaking her head.
‘Nothing at all?’ I gasped, the sensual delights of the bathtub quickly forgotten.
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘Not that we expected to sell much, of course. We knew it would take a while for word to get round, but it would have been nice to mark our first day of trading in Wynbridge with just one sale, no matter how small.’
‘And what about the others?’ I whispered, nodding in the direction of the other stallholders, none of whom had so much as looked in my direction all day. In fact, had it not been for Gwen’s kindness when I first arrived I might well have been feeling a little paranoid about their obvious lack of interest. ‘How do you think they’ve got on?’
‘Well,’ she whispered back, ‘according to Gordon on the hardware stall, this is about as good as it gets at the beginning of the week and Chris told Simon that his wife Marie, who has the fresh flower stall, doesn’t even bother setting up until mid-week. From what I can gather she works from her storage unit as a part-time florist because she can make more money doing that.’
I had been wondering where Marie was. Mum used to buy flowers from her every week. Not that Dad knew that, of course, or where the source of his five-a-day sprang from. He would far rather Mum lined the pockets of the supermarkets than contributed to the Dempster coffers.
‘I guess people must still be all shopped out after the weekend,’ I said hopefully, whilst trying not to feel hurt that no one had been across to reassure me that this was what a typical Tuesday working on Wynbridge market was like.
‘You’re probably right,’ agreed Jude. ‘We’ve only ever traded at car boot sales on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays before. This is our first experience of a bona fide market. Fingers crossed things will pick up tomorrow. Anyway, I’d better go and give Simon a hand. The sooner we get packed up, the sooner we can get to the pub. Do you fancy joining us for a glass of something warming?’
‘No thanks,’ I told her, ‘not tonight. The bubble bath beckons!’
‘You sure?’ she asked. ‘Chris and Steve have promised to pop in.’
For a moment I was almost tempted to change my mind but then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted immaculate Mia picking her way across the pavement and flashing Steve her almost too-white smile.
‘I’m sure,’ I said, ‘but thanks for asking. Maybe I’ll come another night.’
I turned my back on Dempster and son and busied myself carefully packing away the fairy lights and Lizzie’s banner along with the rest of the stock. I had almost finished when I heard someone clearing their throat behind me.
‘It’s Ruby, isn’t it?’ said a voice I instantly recognised.
‘Yes,’ I said, painting on my best smile and turning round. ‘Hello, Mia.’
‘I thought it was you,’ she nodded as she gave a cursory glance over the stall. ‘This is what you do, is it? You sell things on a market stall.’
I felt my spine stiffen as I noted her disparaging tone.
‘At the moment,’ I said, ‘yes, but only until the New Year, then I’m leaving.’
‘You aren’t staying in town for long, then?’
I could tell she was trying to keep our exchange casual but her intentions were glaringly obvious. She had come over to mark out her territory, although why she thought she needed to was a mystery to me.
‘No,’ I said, unwilling to explain my future plans to a stranger. ‘Not long.’
‘Hey Mia!’ yelled Steve. ‘Are you coming or what?’
‘He hates it if I’m out of his sight for more than three seconds together,’ she said with a smile as she waved at him, ‘he’s always so attentive.’
‘He’s a good bloke,’ I nodded.
‘Oh I know,’ she said over her shoulder as she walked away, ‘the best. I’m very lucky to have him.’
I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at her retreating back and finished packing away the last few of Lizzie’s bits and pieces with slightly less care than I had demonstrated before. I had just finished loading up the final box as the lady herself arrived to help me carry everything back to the café stockroom. She had a carrier bag clutched in one hand and her expression was almost smug.
‘What have you got there?’ I asked, pointing at the bag which I guessed was the cause of her unusually self-satisfied demeanour and feeling grateful for the distraction from mulling over Mia’s determination to stake her claim on Steve’s heart.
‘Quite literally the most divine pile of vintage floral fabrics,’ she beamed, her face aglow as she held open the top of the bag for me to see. ‘Simon was just loading them back in the van as I came across.’
‘Oh, I saw these earlier!’ I told her. ‘I meant to tell you, but I forgot.�
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‘Not to worry,’ she said happily, ‘you’ll never guess how much I paid for them!’
‘Go on,’ I winced, thinking it would be a painful amount.
‘Ten pounds!’
‘A tenner!’
‘Yep, ten measly quid. I think Jude was keen to secure their first sale and I know it was an absolute steal so I’m going to make her something special to say thank you.’
‘A padded hot water bottle cover might not be a bad idea,’ I suggested, blowing on my gloves.
‘I can’t believe they haven’t sold anything else,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘How have you got on?’
I explained about the baked goods and few decorations but didn’t tell her about my final exchange of the day.
‘Could have been worse,’ she shrugged.
‘It could,’ I agreed, ‘but from what Jude’s just told me I think it’s going to take a lot more than a couple of extra stalls to breathe life into this old market.’
Chapter 6
Keen to get a head start and prove to Dad that I could get out of bed when my alarm clock dictated on more than one occasion, I had the stall set up way ahead of schedule on my second day of trading and consequently had ample opportunity to watch some of the other traders arrive.
The weather was still dull and grey, but the view of Steve working just metres away was a welcome distraction and the warm glow it gave me reached almost as far as my frozen toes. I knew I was setting myself up for a fall, but I simply couldn’t stop myself, especially when fate had wrapped him in a woolly jumper and scarf and plonked him right next to me. Mia might have gone out of her way to warn me off, but for the moment I was determined to enjoy the view and deal with the consequences later.
‘Sorry I didn’t make it across yesterday. We were rushed off our feet. Not that I’m complaining, of course. Oh wow! Ruby, this is amazing!’
I waited patiently for Bea to draw breath, hoping she would be so enthralled by the stall that she wouldn’t notice who my nearest neighbour just happened to be.
‘I’m simply going to have to have one of these pretty advent thingies for work,’ she gushed, fingering the little bags with affection. ‘It will look perfect behind the reception desk.’
‘You really want one?’ I asked, momentarily thrown by the prospect of making such a lucrative sale so early in the day.
‘Yes,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Some bloody saleswoman you are! Come on, hurry up, will you? I have to open up this morning. And I was hoping for biscuits,’ she said, poking about amongst the bags.
‘Jemma will be bringing them over later,’ I told her, quickly stowing away her pretty purchase in one of the Cherry Tree brown paper bags and taking her money. ‘Shall I save some for you? They sold out pretty quickly yesterday.’
‘Oh yes please,’ she smiled, taking the bag with the calendar in.
And just when I thought I’d got away with it.
‘So,’ she said with a less than discreet nod in the direction of the Dempster family stall, ‘how are you finding the neighbours?’
‘Fine,’ I shrugged, turning my attention back to tidying the display. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve been too busy to notice them.’
She leant further in and lowered her voice.
‘Steve and Mia were in the pub last night,’ she whispered, looking over my shoulder in his direction and not yet realising the impact her words were having, ‘and she was all over him like a rash. I tell you, Ruby, if they do get engaged this Christmas I think I’ll implode.’
‘But I thought you said they weren’t serious,’ I shot back without thinking. ‘You told me that Sam tells you all about Steve’s women and her name has never come up. Not once.’ I could hear the note of panic in my voice and I didn’t like it one little bit. Perhaps Mia’s take on her and Steve’s relationship was right after all.
‘Well, they looked pretty serious to me—’
She stopped mid-sentence and I spun round to find Steve heading in our direction.
‘I can’t stop,’ he smiled, ‘but I just wanted to see if by any chance you had some of Jemma’s mince pies left over from yesterday? I had a sample in the café and they’re all I’ve been able to think about.’
Given what Bea had just told me about his and Mia’s antics in the pub I found that very hard to believe.
‘No,’ I told him, ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got any left, but Jemma will be bringing some more over in a bit.’
‘Great,’ he nodded, rocking back on his heels, ‘brilliant.’
Bea shot me a quick glance. Clearly she was as confused by his continued presence as I was.
‘By the way,’ he said eventually, ‘how did you get on with the hand warmers yesterday? Were they any good?’
‘Yes thanks,’ I said, fumbling in my pockets to retrieve them. ‘They were brilliant. I re-heated them for you just before I left home. Here you go.’
With a hand that was less than steady I tried to pass them back and ignore how far Bea’s eyebrows had shot up.
‘No, you keep them,’ he said kindly.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely,’ he insisted, ‘Mia gave them to me a couple of weeks ago. She’s always complaining about how cold my hands are, but I can’t get on with them. I guess I’ve worked on the market so long I don’t take much notice of the weather any more.’
‘See,’ muttered Bea in the background, ‘practically engaged.’
I had just been about to pop them back in my pocket, but the sickening image of Steve triggering goose bumps on Mia’s flawless thighs and the thought that I was handling something she had given him, soon changed my mind.
‘Do you know,’ I said, practically throwing them at him, ‘I’m fine. I can manage without them. You can have them back.’
‘Are you sure?’ he said, scrabbling to catch them.
‘Positive.’ I nodded. ‘Now you’ll have to excuse me, I need to get on.’
I turned back to the stall and refused to look at Bea who I just knew had had her sneaky suspicions confirmed about how I was really feeling.
‘We’ll talk about this later,’ she hissed, as Steve strode away, ‘when I come back for my biscuits.’
‘No, we won’t,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we will.’
‘We really won’t,’ I said again, ‘because there is nothing to talk about.’
As I watched my friend walk across the market square I realised that my feelings during the last couple of days had become more akin to the eighteen-year-old student who had left town over three years ago, rather than the worldly-wise graduate who had returned in her place, and I needed to get a grip.
Steve had dumped me, I reminded myself, and yes, I could appreciate that he had done it for the best of intentions and that his entire life was in absolute turmoil when he made the decision, but it didn’t alter the fact that he had made it, or that he had now moved on to pastures new. In fact, if what Sam had told Bea was true and I had no reason to doubt it, he had grazed quite a few new pastures since I’d left town.
In eight weeks’ time, I reminded myself, less if I was lucky, I would be staring in awe at the exotic wonders of the world, and I didn’t want that exciting prospect tainted with a heartbreak that should have long since healed. I needed to stop picking at the scab of this long-dead relationship and start thinking about the future. I may have not been as ‘over the relationship’ as I had originally thought, but Mia had already warned me off once and Steve had given no hint since our reacquaintance that he still harboured romantic feelings for me, and with those thoughts ringing in my ears I resolved to put our renewed association on track as friends who just happened to share the same workspace, nothing more. Well, that was the theory.
‘Hey Marie!’ I called out before I had a chance to talk myself out of doing it. ‘Can I give you a hand?’
I hadn’t seen Marie since I had left for university and I have to admit that when Steve and I parted company I had m
issed her sunny smile and warm welcome for a long time. She was a kind-hearted woman, perfect mother-in-law material, I thought grudgingly, as an image of magnificent Mia ensconced on the Dempster sofa at Christmas forced its way uncharitably into my mind.
‘Well, well, well!’ She laughed, reappearing from behind an armful of florists’ buckets. ‘It is you! Chris said you were here yesterday, but I thought he was pulling my leg.’
‘No,’ I smiled, ‘shocking though they are, the rumours are true!’
‘Gosh, you’re looking well, Ruby,’ she said, dispensing with her stock and pulling me into the hug I had missed, ‘and you’ve had your hair cut.’
‘Only a few inches,’ I smiled, pulling the still long ponytail over my shoulder.
‘So what are you doing here of all places?’ she quizzed. ‘I thought you had another year at university.’
Just for a second I wondered how she could have possibly known that I had decided to stay on and take my Masters, but then common sense kicked in and I remembered that life in a small town, especially Wynbridge it seemed, was very much public property and therefore fair game for multiple discussions and dissections in the pub and beyond.
I explained about my abandoned post-grad course and the Cherry Tree stall and how I had offered to help Lizzie and Jemma out for a few weeks.
‘So you don’t see this as a future career then?’ she asked, as we carried on unloading her van together.
‘No,’ I smiled, choosing my words with care knowing that she and Chris had worked on the market together for the best part of thirty years. ‘I’m just helping out until the New Year. To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure if Jemma and Lizzie are planning to keep the stall on beyond that. I think this is just a short-term project to try and help draw locals back to the market.’
‘Well, however long you’re here for,’ she said thrusting a pretty willow basket full of moss into my arms, ‘and no matter what your father no doubt thinks of the idea, you’re most welcome. This place could do with a few new faces and some fresh ideas.’
