The Chic Boutique On Baker Street

by Rachel Dove

  Ben chuckled, watching her face light up. It was nice to see her smile. Maybe she would stick around for a while after all. He hadn’t expected her to take a pet in, never mind two, and he knew enough about people to see that she wasn’t the type to make a commitment to them and then leave. What did she leave though? She changed the subject whenever anyone mentioned London, and all he knew was that she had worked in law. No mention of her family, friends … or anyone significant, just the odd feeling he had sometimes that there might have been someone.

  When he wasn’t with her, he found himself wracking his brain with possibilities, worries, niggles, and he found it more and more difficult to rein these in as the days went on. Amanda must have sensed his thoughts, because she looked over at him in question. ‘Something on your mind?’

  He didn’t return her smile, and looked really uncomfortable as he spoke. Amanda held her breath as she waited for him to speak.

  ‘I just wondered, are you happy here?’

  Amanda puffed out in surprise. ‘Happy? Yes, I am. Why?’

  Ben’s frown diminished as he smiled, his dimples peeking at her. ‘I just never hear you talk of home, of London, and I wondered why.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I am not prying, I’m … Just interested.’

  Amanda sat up then, pushing her back into the settee. ‘I left London quickly. I kind of had to. I … was … unhappy. I left my job, and my career.’

  Ben moved to sit beside her, the kittens dashing around the rug in front of them.

  ‘That must have been awful. Did you not have any family to support you? Your parents?’ He pointed to the photo frames on her mantelpiece.

  Amanda shook her head. ‘No, it’s just me. My parents work in law, and they love it. They don’t understand people who don’t follow their lifestyle. There was someone, but … he wasn’t who I thought he was.’ Ben nodded. He knew there must have been someone, she was beautiful and independent. Of course there was a man. He found himself wanting to punch the man for hurting his Amanda. Not your Amanda, Ben, remember. You are not what she is looking for, and you can’t take the risk anyway. You need to stay away, Ben, but you are failing. ‘Do you keep in touch with anyone?’

  Amanda winced. ‘To be honest, I turned off my mobile on the way out of London and haven’t had the guts to turn it back on since.’

  Ben nodded. Was she hiding? What could be so bad? He wanted to question her, find out what she was thinking of, and who, but he thought better of it. After all, he had plenty that he didn’t want to discuss either, so who was he to talk? As he looked at her, playing with the kittens, he felt grateful that she had even answered his questions. She wasn’t what he expected at all from a city girl. God knows his wife had been a force larger than life, but Amanda was different—softer, quieter. The more he saw her, the more difficult it was to imagine village life without her in it, and this notion both thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.

  Amanda stroked her new little flatmates and tried not to blush as she felt Ben watching her. He had watched her a lot today, but she couldn’t fathom out whether this was a brilliant development, or a signal of impending doom. From his looks and now his questions, he was obviously trying to fathom her out, but for what purpose Amanda could only guess. She had pretty much given up denying to herself that she was attracted to him, the telltale skips of her heart whenever he was near had put paid to that, but she didn’t know her next move. Was there a next move? The kitten appeal for help had been genuine, she really did want to get a cat, but she couldn’t fully deny that his help was strictly needed. She was a resourceful woman after all, any idiot could hunt down a pet. She just couldn’t resist the chance to get to know him better, to fathom him out, but that had backfired. Being as picky as she was with the opposite sex, and as driven as she was, partners and love interests had been few and far between, and she hadn’t really been that bothered before. Before Ben at least. The plan had been to suss out just how much of an idiot he was, and put paid to the girlish daydreaming. Nice plan, Amanda, now you really are in trouble.

  Twelve

  Agatha stirred from her slumber as a clatter came from the kitchen downstairs. She jumped up, pulled off her night eye mask and ran to the doorway in bare feet. The dulcet tones of Taylor rang up the stairs as he scolded whichever dog had been up to no good, and Agatha relaxed and tittered at the expletives coming from her companion’s mouth. She walked over to the nightstand, quickly ran a comb through her hair, pinched her cheeks and then settled back under the covers, just as Taylor came in, tray in hand.

  ‘Mrs Mayweather?’

  Agatha opened her eyes and smiled at Taylor, before taking the cup and saucer he had placed on the tray. Alongside that was a plate bearing marmalade and toast, and a small vase holding a single red rose and a spray of baby’s breath.

  ‘Ooh,’ Agatha exclaimed, dipping her head to smell the bloom.

  ‘The garden is full of them, a good crop this year.’ Taylor smiled. ‘I thought you might like a little colour this morning.’

  Agatha smiled back at him. ‘Lovely, thank you. I shall have to visit the gardens this afternoon, speak to Archibald.’

  Taylor snuffed. ‘Just don’t call him Archibald, eh? You know he hates it.’

  Agatha lifted her chin in defiance. ‘Traditions are nothing in society these days, but not here. I intend to keep up the pretence for a little while longer, thank you.’

  Taylor rolled his eyes good-naturedly. ‘No problem, Mrs Mayweather,’ he said, with great emphasis on her full name. Agatha tutted and huffed in response, making Taylor’s grin all the broader. He crossed the room, tray in hand, and placed the vase on her dressing table. ‘On another note, your recent foray into espionage seems to be paying off. Dotty says that Amanda has a cracking idea to save the community centre, and I think you will like it.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What “espionage” is this you speak of? I merely helped a newcomer to earn a bit of cash and got us somewhere safe to meet, away from Mr Beecham.’

  Taylor nodded, tapping the side of his nose with his free hand. ‘Fair enough, nudge nudge, wink wink, and all that. Your secret is safe, Bond.’

  Agatha squeezed the duvet between her fingers, stifling the urge to throw something at his retreating form. That man is so infuriating! She finished her brew and went to sit at her dressing table. The smell from the flowers surrounded her and she reached out tentatively to stroke a blood red petal. Her eyes glanced across to the photo beside it, displaying her husband’s smiling face. Her smile dimming slightly, she started to get ready.

  The summer fair was a matter of a few weeks away, and there was still much to be done to get the village, and her own house and grounds, ready for the onslaught of visitors to their beautiful haven. And, if she had her way, there might even be a wedding to add to their celebrations before too long. That really would be a jewel in her organisational crown, she thought, as she brushed her hair for the second time that morning.

  It wasn’t till that afternoon, when she was speaking to suppliers in her office, twiddling a loose strand of hair, she registered that for the first time since her husband died, she had cared what a man thought of her appearance first thing in the morning. The reasons eluded her still, but gave her food for thought. Food for thought, and an extra sherry that teatime.

  Meanwhile, back on Baker Street, Amanda was standing up on a stool in the beginnings of a gown, whilst the ladies of the elite pranced around her, showing her fabric swatches, moving her body parts this way and that, tape measures a flash around here, around there, as they animatedly chattered, took notes and even made chalk lines on her clothing. For her part, she was so bemused that she simply let them do their will and, before too long, she was actually enjoying herself immensely.

  That morning, the ladies had been all of a flutter about the Austen event, and apparently it had even got the Mayweather seal of approval, so it was all systems go, and the print shop in the village was hurriedly making fl
yers and tickets for the event. Everyone in the village was excited and the shops in town had been deluged with people buying supplies to make their own costumes. The women had instantly put themselves forward as Amanda’s chief costume makers, and would brook no refusal.

  Amanda was horrified at first, never even connecting that the event may require a costume for her, but secretly she was ridiculously excited about dressing up and having an Austen adventure. Keira Knightley—eat your heart out, girlie, Amanda Perry is hot on your tail. As she watched Grace and Dotty argue about whether the sleeves should be taffeta or ruched silk, she wondered momentarily what she would have been doing at this time of day six months ago. Nose deep in a file probably, mainlining expensive to-go coffees and barking instructions at her secretary. In this moment, she felt as far away from that woman as she ever did, and the thought warmed her. The shop bell trilled and Ben walked in. She flushed as their eyes met, and Ben’s gaze wandered over her body momentarily, on show like a shop mannequin.

  ‘Oh, Ben! You can’t be in here! We are busy!’ Marlene scolded.

  Ben laughed. ‘It’s fine, I won’t be a minute. I just wanted to say hello, see how the kittens’ first night was. Agatha has roped me into this event, and said I should come and help organise it.’

  Hetty giggled and Amanda thought she heard her say something like ‘Nice one, Ags’ under her breath. She hoped that Ben didn’t hear it too. One look across at him however, and she knew that he had. He rolled his eyes dramatically and smirked at her, and she giggled out loud before she could stop herself. Grace glanced up from her skirts and winked at her. Were this lot trying to push them together? Amanda marvelled once again at the relentless beat of the jungle drums in this small town. When she had lived in London, even seeing a neighbour once a month in the stairway was considered a social occasion.

  Dotty looked at Ben then, and Amanda could practically see the cogs turning.

  ‘Ben, you don’t have a date for the play. Why don’t you take Amanda?’

  Amanda wanted the earth to split open and suck her under. She felt her face explode with embarrassment, and suddenly felt a bit faint perched on the stool.

  ‘I was just thinking that myself!’ Hetty exclaimed, nodding vigorously.

  Ben smirked at Hetty. ‘Just occurred to you that, did it?’

  Her face dropped, a guilty look passing across her face. Busted. Marlene swatted at him then, catching his hand with an open palm.

  ‘Don’t tease, Ben, it doesn’t become you. Now, are you going to ask her or not?’

  Amanda’s stomach flipped. Awkward! A pity date from a man who didn’t like her being in the village was not the most romantic event ever, was it?

  ‘Er, no, I am fine going alone,’ she said.

  Ben raised his eyebrow. ‘You do realise we won’t get any peace if we don’t. I would be happy to take you, if you want,’ he said, rather flatly.

  Amanda was trapped now. All eyes on her, she swallowed hard.

  ‘Erm, I suppose we could. For a quiet life, I mean.’ She shrugged like a teenager. No big deal, she thought. They could part ways once the event got started.

  Ben smiled a little. ‘Good, settled then, ladies, OK?’ The ladies all nodded, murmuring their approval collectively. He looked at Amanda then, and she looked back at him nervously. His expression wasn’t readable, and she couldn’t tell if he was mad or just put out. ‘How are they settling in?’ he asked her, obviously trying to change the subject.

  ‘The kittens were fine, Ben, they only kept me up a couple of hours in the night. They are settling in lovely, thank you.’

  Ben nodded. ‘Good, hope you get more sleep tonight. I shall see you soon, OK?’

  Amanda nodded. Ben turned back from the door, and looked at her again.

  ‘You look nice by the way,’ he said, and then he was gone. Amanda stood, mouth gaping like a floundering fish as the ladies all looked at each other, and set to work.

  Ben’s morning went fast. So fast, that he couldn’t even remember how many patients he had seen, how many people he had spoken to, or whether he had even eaten anything. All he saw and thought about was Amanda in that dress. She was a vision, pins sticking out everywhere as the women bustled around her like Cinderella’s cartoon mice. Her hair was tousled in a loose bun, something she seemed to do a lot, and he found himself thinking about taking the clip out, brushing the hair back from her shoulders, touching the once alabaster skin of her collarbone. She had changed physically since being in the village, her hair was lightening from the sunlight, her skin getting more tan from the fresh air and sunshine, her whole body seemingly uncoiling itself a bit more daily. He found her more attractive every time they saw each other, and today, he felt like she saw him too. He knew that the women of the village had made it their mission for her to be a pet project in the ‘Find Ben a Wife’ campaign that was no doubt spearheaded by the infamous Agatha Mayweather. Not that he was offended, although it was embarrassing at times. He knew Dotty was in it too, but instead of feeling angry, hemmed in, he was actually very touched by the women’s attentions to his love life. It did need a kick-start, that must be said, but the kick had to come from him, and they had picked the wrong girl.

  As though conjured from his mind, Dotty walked into the consulting room, a tin foil square package and a bottle of water in hand.

  ‘Ben, we have a break in patients now, so I have made an appointment with Mr Denton. Here, take some lunch with you.’

  Ben looked at Dotty, frowning as he took the sandwich and bottle from her. ‘Denton, the tailor?’

  Dotty nodded, a wry smile dancing around her lips, never quite settling.

  ‘Yes, that Denton.’ She shrugged off Ben’s questioning look. ‘You need a costume remember, for the open-air event?’

  Ben grinned, walked towards her and grabbed her in his arms, swinging her around.

  ‘What would I do without you, eh?’ he said, teasingly.

  ‘Oh gerroff!’ Dotty said, laughing. He put her down and she stroked his cheek tenderly. ‘Listen, Ben, I made a promise to your dear departed mother and father that I would look out for you, and that’s just what I am doing. So do as you are told.’

  He nodded, a lump in his throat forming at the thought of his parents. ‘And the rest of your cronies? What are they up to?’

  Dotty blushed before what he said sank in, and he earned a quick cuff round the ear for his trouble, or as close as she could with him towering over her.

  ‘Ben Evans, you are not too big to go over my knee! Those ladies are not doing anything, I can assure you.’

  Ben nodded, dropping a kiss on his friend’s cheek.

  ‘OK, I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. Well, I am off to get my suit then.’

  Dotty broke into a gleeful smile. ‘Have fun, Ben, and pick well.’ Ben looked at her questioningly. She looked back at him, eyes glistening with mischief. ‘I have heard, from a little birdie, that your date looks very nice indeed. Have to make a good impression, don’t we?’

  Ben groaned and walked out of the door. Dotty watched him cross the driveway, get into his jeep and drive away. When he disappeared out of sight, she picked up the phone and dialled.

  It’s me,’ she whispered breathily. ‘He has gone now. I briefed Denton on her outfit and he is going to work his magic.’ The voice at the other end of the line said something back. Dotty frowned. ‘Can we not just fight it? We will raise the money for the roof, surely that’s enough to get rid of him?’

  The voice on the end got louder and Dotty grimaced. ‘OK, OK, I know, just a thought. Let’s just cross our fingers then and hope for the best.’

  After placing the receiver back in the cradle, she tapped out a text and sent it to a group stored in her phone. She then brushed herself down and made a coffee. Spy work done, the filing was next. After a nice cuppa and a garibaldi.

  Thirteen

  Marcus was hiding. Not even metaphorically either, but literally hiding. He was crouched under his des
k, one bum cheek being poked with the plastic of the swivel chair leg, the other cheek rammed up against the hard mahogany of the desk. His phone kept ringing on his desk above, as it had done incessantly since he had walked through the door at eight that morning.

  Angela had been marauding outside, pacing the corridors like a lion stalking its prey. In this instance, that prey was him, and he felt every inch the scared little antelope. The door to his office suddenly opened, and Marcus prayed it wouldn’t be one of the partners in the firm. He was pretty sure that they were on to him, and he worried for his future. Having newly been made partner, he was still earning his stripes and he was feeling the pressure more than ever, especially since he no longer had Amanda to back him up. He saw a pair of red patent high heels stood in front of his desk, and he wrapped his hand over his mouth to stop the squeak that threatened to jump out from his lips. ‘Humph,’ he heard a female voice grumble, and then he saw the heels retreat. His office door closed and he breathed out a sigh of relief. The phone started to ring again, and Marcus shuddered at the sound. Keep it together, man, you can do this. He uncurled himself from under the desk, his cheek completely numb now, pins and needles reverberating around his posterior as he bottom shuffled out from under his desk. Picking up the phone, he wiped at the sheen of sweat on his face. Today, he had to get himself together.

  ‘Hello?’ he said weakly into the receiver.

  Celine’s clipped tones came back over the line, making his testicles shrink into his body at warp speed.

  ‘Marcus, is that you?’

  Marcus shuddered. ‘Mrs Perry, hello! Lovely to hear from you.’

  Celine ignored his greeting. ‘Marcus, what the hell is going on there? Amanda hasn’t returned my calls or emails, and her phone is switched off. She should be back from vacation now, and today I went round to her flat, and someone answered the door and informed me that she has sold it! What on earth is going on? You are supposed to be her friend, why didn’t you call me? Her father is scouring half of London looking for her!’