The Chic Boutique On Baker Street

by Rachel Dove

  ‘Ben,’ she began softly. ‘I know this is hard, duck, but I still remember your parents’ hopes and dreams for you, and God bless them, you are a son to be proud of.’

  He smiled at her, as he thought of the day he got the call telling him his parents had been taken from him. A silly crash, some idiot spinning around the country lanes, taking his parents off the road as they drove to the market in the next town, something they did every week. Dotty had been here to meet him when he came home, new wife in tow, and hadn’t left since. ‘You have to take a chance sometime, Ben,’ she continued, hoping that he would listen to her. ‘Amanda is not Tanya. She isn’t going to leave, or break your heart. She is happy here, and we all love her. Your parents would never have left you by choice, my darling, and you need to make a life of your own now.’

  She waved her hand around the surgery, and Ben looked at everything he had accomplished, taking over the surgery and house from his parents, making their legacy both work and thrive. He nodded slowly. Dotty patted his hand and he lifted it into his and kissed the back of it.

  ‘As usual, Dotty, you have a point. I do need to do something, I know.’ He thought then of the kiss, the kiss with so much energy and promise, and he cursed himself for not saying more to Amanda when he had the chance. Smoothing his tousled brown hair back from his face, he smiled. ‘So, when is this dinner booked for then?’

  Dotty grinned at him then, clapping her hands together as he rolled his eyes at her. ‘OK, OK,’ he laughed. ‘Go on, tap the jungle drums.’

  Dotty giggled and pulled out her phone, ignoring his dig as she typed.

  Ben felt sick to his stomach as he pulled up to Baker Street that evening. It was ten to seven, and he was washed, brushed up and terrified. Hetty had ‘come by’ the practice earlier that evening, bearing a huge bouquet of flowers she ‘just happened to pick’ from her garden, all trimmed up with crepe paper and ribbon, and Dotty and Grace had even knocked at his door an hour earlier to bring him some wine and cheese, ‘in case’ Amanda fancied a nightcap after their meal. Ben had answered the door in surprise and Grace had instantly ushered him in, vetoing his outfit choice in seconds. Before he knew it, Dotty was cleaning the kitchen and Grace was thumbing through his wardrobe, selecting a dark blue shirt that showed off his tan, a pair of black slacks and a grey silk tie that matched his eyes. Her words, not his. Then they had smothered him with kisses and good luck wishes, and breezed out of the door, leaving Ben feeling like a tidying and organising whirlwind had just hit. Hurricane Grandma.

  He slowly turned off the engine and reached for the flowers from the passenger seat. The Friday night was warm, even for late July, and he could hear the crickets and birds chatting away to each other as he opened the jeep door. Looking at Amanda’s shop, he noticed that she now had planters on all her windowsills, bearing colourful flowers, and her shop window was full of the little animals she had been making. The vet’s advert had obviously worked well, as Ben recognised the likeness of many of his clients in the faces of the soft toys.

  He closed the jeep door, walked to the buzzer, taking a deep breath, and pressed the button. He had decided, after tonight, he would listen to his instincts and walk away. He owed it to himself, and the pushy women in the village, to close this down. He would keep his distance, be aloof and walk away. He felt better, having a deadline, but he didn’t know which scared him the most, her letting him go or her trying to keep their friendship. He didn’t get any more time to dwell on it as she buzzed him up.

  He walked up to the flat door and knocked softly. Amanda had soft rock on in the flat, and he smiled to himself at her music choice. They had so many interests in common, it was strange. She opened the door to him and he blinked hard. She looked lovely. Her brown hair was curled slightly, hanging in loose ringlets around her face, and her dress was a fitted cream number that showed off her tanned body well. She had matching cream pumps on, with high heels. As he looked her up and down, he saw a bundle of fluff by her leg. He bent down in the doorway and stroked the kitten’s cheek, before looking back up at her. She laughed as Perky, the white one, barrelled up from behind the settee and ploughed into him. He laughed too and, picking her up, walked into the flat. Amanda closed the door and grinned at him. ‘They have made themselves at home. Hi.’

  Ben smiled back at her. ‘Hi, I brought you these.’ He rearranged Perky into his arms as he handed her the large bunch of blooms.

  ‘Ooh,’ she exclaimed. ‘Thanks, they are beautiful! The ladies did well.’ He opened his mouth to apologise, but she winked at him to show she was teasing and went to put them in water, Pinky following close behind her. ‘Sit down, I won’t be a minute.’

  He sat down on the couch, Perky immediately settling down on his lap. He noticed her laptop was on the coffee table in front of him, showing a Facebook page.

  ‘You really are back in the land of the living,’ he said as she came back over to him, placing the flowers on the hearth. Pinky took a swipe at one of the flowers, and got a faceful of pollen for her trouble. She sneezed loudly and scampered off.

  Amanda rolled her eyes at the cat, and sat next to Ben. She took the laptop off the table and showed him the pictures. ‘Yep, I set up a new profile for a business page. I have had orders already for the little animals. It’s great!’

  Ben smiled at her, looking through the pictures, all placed in arty poses with the shop in the background.

  ‘These look great. I see the villagers have taken to your animals, too.’

  Amanda nodded. ‘I have had lots of people come to the shop with photos of their pets, it’s amazing. Thanks for putting the advert in the vet’s.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said softly.

  Amanda smiled again and they fell into silence. He took this as a sign to move.

  ‘Shall we set off? We have reservations, I believe.’

  A short time later, on the outskirts of the village, they pulled up outside a bright white public house. It was set into the hills, surrounded by green fields, with a small shale car park at the side, and a wooden decking area for outside eating. Ben and Amanda headed for inside, but seeing that it looked really busy, they decided to eat outside, as it was still light. Ben went in to get some drinks and a menu. Amanda sat down at one of the tables in the corner. It was lovely. The outside area was surrounded by flower-covered trellis, and large heaters were placed near the tables for comfort. It was lovely and warm, and she was grateful that there was no breeze coming at them from the outdoors. A circle of tea lights flickered in a glass bowl in the centre of the table. The whole thing was very summery and romantic, and Amanda knew now why the girls had chosen it for their date. She half expected them to jump out from the hedges and start playing violin, and was suddenly grateful that the pub was on the outskirts of the village. Ben came out from the front door with a menu under one arm, a glass of rosé wine and a pint of lager. Passing the wine and the menu to her, he took a seat on the four-seated table. Instead of choosing to sit next to her, he sat across from her, she noted, and she tried not to feel disappointed. She said thanks and they both took a large gulp of their drinks. Noticing what the other had done, they both laughed, and it seemed to break the tension a little.

  ‘Bit nerve-wracking, isn’t it, being set up for a date,’ Ben said, a statement more than a question.

  Amanda nodded. ‘Yes, it is, I am sorry.’

  Ben frowned. ‘Why, er … Why? Are you sorry, I mean.’ He looked upset, wary even.

  Amanda looked at him. Now or never. ‘I know you are doing this for me, because of the deal with the ladies, and I am sorry you got dragged into all this.’

  Ben’s brows knitted together, and he said nothing. He took another swig at his pint and then, running his fingers through his hair, he moved into the chair next to her. She gasped a little at his sudden movement. What was going on? He looked at her, square in the eyes. ‘Amanda, I will admit, I was a bit unsure about coming tonight, but it’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything w
rong. It’s just … me.’

  Amanda nodded, choosing to suddenly study the rivulets of water running down her wine glass instead of looking at him. See, he is just not that into you, woman. And now you are stuck with him all night, and he has to drive you home! Fab. Ground, swallow me now, please.

  ‘Amanda?’ he said softly, putting his fingers under her chin and turning her head to face him. ‘Have I upset you?’

  Amanda shook her head and swallowed hard, still not looking at him. She didn’t trust herself not to cry, and she knew that if she took one look into those deep grey eyes, she would end up bawling like a baby.

  ‘Amanda,’ he said again. ‘Look at me.’

  She flicked her eyes to his then, and his expression confused her. He looked worried, his eyes full of concern.

  ‘Ben, there is nothing to worry about. We are just friends.’ There, you said it, she thought to herself. Let the chips fall where they may.

  Ben’s expression changed to shock, before his wall came up again, locking his expression away as usual. ‘That’s good, er … yes … good.’

  Amanda nodded.

  ‘We can just be friends, then, that’s fine. The ladies will get bored eventually.’

  Her heart thudded to the decking at his words, floundering like a fish before finally flatlining. But Ben didn’t move his hand from her chin, and she couldn’t bring herself to move away. He looked at her again, a frown on his face.

  Amanda put her hand over Ben’s hesitantly, and gently moved his hand away from her face. Ben put his hands on his lap, and looked at the candles on the table.

  ‘I haven’t dated in a long time, not that the women in the village haven’t tried. Dotty even tried to get me into online dating once.’

  Amanda nearly laughed at this, picturing Dotty on the net, scanning for eligible women for their Benjamin to date.

  ‘I can just imagine that,’ she said, looking at him fondly. Ben laughed with her. ‘It was pretty bad, there was even talk of a speed-dating night at the Four Feathers,’ he chuckled. ‘When my wife left, I was hurt. They are just trying to help. I think they had their heart set on us getting on better than we did.’

  ‘What, because I am a fat cat, determined to tarmac the village into a shopping complex?’ she laughed, trying to break the tension. He was trying to explain why he didn’t want her, but Amanda couldn’t bear to hear it.

  Ben hung his head, obviously embarrassed.

  Amanda stopped laughing then, waiting for him to open up.

  ‘I got hurt too, in London. It’s always been pretty much me though, my parents never really bothered, they were too busy with modelling me into the perfect daughter to bother with my personal life, so I just got on with it. I can’t imagine how you felt, losing your parents. I have heard a lot of nice things about them.’

  Ben smiled. ‘They were very much in love, I never even remember one fight or disagreement growing up. I always wanted what they had, one day.’

  Amanda sighed. ‘So, why are you telling me all this?’

  Ben locked eyes with her again. ‘I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think bad of me. I would like us to be able to get along when we bump into each other.’

  Amanda nodded, swallowing down the slab of hurt that choked her windpipe. ‘Don’t worry Ben, let’s just have a nice meal and forget about everything, OK?’

  Ben nodded slowly, and they both turned their attention to their menus, surrounded by the twinkling candlelight.

  Jasper the Westie was thoroughly miserable. He stood on the vet’s table, ears down, shoulders hunched as Mrs Warburton prattled on to Ben about her prized pooch. He had been off his food for a couple of days now, and had generally been moody. He had even stopped pooping, so she was beside herself with worry. Ben felt along Jasper’s ribs, his stomach and could feel no blockages, and his weight loss was not significant enough for concern. He was slightly perplexed, and was just trying to think of his next course of action when he lifted his tail and found the culprit. Turning to Mrs Warburton, he resisted the urge to laugh.

  ‘Mrs Warburton, do you floss?’

  The woman looked at him, nonplussed. ‘Of course I do, Mr Evans, every day.’ She flashed her teeth at him, tapping one of her top teeth with a finger. ‘These are all me own, y’know.’

  Ben nodded. ‘I think I know what’s wrong with little Jasper here. You see, dogs like to floss too.’

  Mrs Warburton looked confused until Ben pulled up Jasper’s tail and showed her the white threads protruding from her companion’s bottom. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh Jasper, you silly boy!’

  ‘When you throw away your floss, make sure he can’t get to it. They love the smell of it. It happens quite a lot. He will need an X-ray to see if there are any complications, but, other than that, he is probably just feeling a bit full and scared to poo. He should pass it in a couple of days. Let’s see what the X-ray shows. We might have to keep him in for observation.’

  Mrs Warburton nodded, sniffling into a hanky. ‘Okay, Mr Evans. Oh, Jasper, you naughty boy!’

  Ben gave her a hug. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Warburton, we shall soon get him right as rain.’

  She nodded, still sniffling, as he shepherded her out. He promised to call her as soon as he had news.

  Ben washed his hands and checked his phone. Nothing, he acknowledged glumly. Why would she get in touch, Ben? You both agreed it was going nowhere, you wanted to back off, and you did, and she isn’t bothered. There’s your answer. He put his phone in the desk drawer and called for the next patient. Thank God the surgery was busy today.

  A few hours later, Jasper was tucking into a bowl of dog food when Mrs Warburton came to pick him up. The floss was not stuck to anything, and he had eventually passed it with a bit of help. He was now trying his best to take the enamel off the food bowl, obviously no worse for wear from his ordeal.

  Dotty waved them both off, and looked at Ben, sat in his office staring into space.

  ‘I am off now, duck, any plans for tonight?’

  Ben looked across at her. ‘Nope, no plans, Dotty. See you tomorrow.’

  Dotty nodded glumly, planting a kiss on his forehead as she went to leave.

  ‘Just as stubborn as your father,’ she said over her shoulder when she left.

  Ben put his head in his hands. Can’t argue with you there, he thought to himself.

  Seventeen

  Vince Stokes was angry. Very angry indeed. So much so, in fact, that the vein in his forehead was tapping out its own heartbeat, pulsing against his brain as he barked down the phone at his secretary, Rosie.

  ‘In a meeting? What bloody meeting? Tell his secretary tart that I want him in my office, now!’

  Rosie replied meekly, wincing as Vince slammed down his phone in her ear. Sighing, she pushed away from her desk and walked briskly to Marcus’s new office. Angela was sitting at her desk, just outside, filing her nails. The sound of the sandpaper against her long plastic nails set Rosie’s teeth on edge, and she headed for his door.

  Angela stood up and ran towards her. ‘Er, excuse me, where do you think you are going?’

  Rosie gave her a sideways glare. ‘To see Marcus, because my boss wants to see him, and neither of you are answering the phones. What’s the matter? Too busy?’ she said, nodding at her hands.

  Angela scowled. ‘Marcus told me not to answer internal calls, FYI, because he is busy. Capisce?’

  Rosie continued on, placing her hand firmly on Marcus’s door handle. ‘No, not “capisce”. Mr Stokes wants to speak to him, now.’

  Angela made a move to pull her hand off the door handle, and Rosie pressed it down. They both ended up in a pile of heels and hair in the doorway to Marcus’s office, and they both balked at the sight before them. Marcus was asleep, head back on his swivel chair, snoring loudly. Energy drink cans littered the desk, along with balls of paper covered with scribbles, and a half-empty box of antacids. He jumped at the noise, falling backwards off his chair.

  After bounding
back up, he straightened his clothes quickly, looking with terror towards the door. Seeing the two secretaries extricate themselves, he sagged with relief, till he looked again at Rosie.

  ‘Hi, girls,’ he said brazenly. ‘Don’t fight over me, there is enough for everyone!’

  Angela scowled and Rosie tried to hold down her breakfast. Walking to his desk, she began putting the rubbish into his wastepaper bin. ‘Mr Stokes senior is looking for you, Mr Beresford—’ she said his name like you would say, ‘I have poo on my new heels’ ‘—and he is not going to be ignored. He wants you in his office, now.’

  Marcus’s bleary eyes focused on her words and his face paled even further. He now resembled the colour of cold custard. ‘I will be right there,’ he muttered, dragging his fingers through his greasy, dishevelled hair.

  Rosie nodded. ‘If I were you, Mr Beresford—’ again, she emphasised greatly the fact that she wanted to call him something far worse ‘—I would make this right. You still have time to do that, but you will have to act fast.’

  Marcus looked at Rosie, who stared at him right back. He withered under her gaze, knowing full well she had the measure of him as a man, a partner and a human being.

  She flicked her eyes across to Angela. ‘When you have got rid of this tramp, and spoken to my boss, go and see Elaine. She might just be able to help you, if you help yourself.’

  Angela huffed, a strangled semi-scream coming from her throat as she stewed on what Rosie had said, and she started to move towards her, claws out.

  Rosie merely raised one hand on her way out of the office. ‘Try it, Angela, I will take you down. And I would love to see security drag your bony arse out of here. We all would.’ She walked out of the office then, still immaculate and showing no outward signs of being perturbed at all. The woman was as cool as a cucumber.

  Angela was apoplectic and, slamming the door, she screamed loudly. ‘Arrgghh! Marcus, are you going to let her speak to me like that?! I have never been so insulted in all my life, how dare she?’ She was ranting now, to-ing and fro-ing across the carpet in front of his desk, bits of spittle flying out from her now smudged red lips. ‘Does she not know who I am? I am soooo going to get her fired! You are going to sort this, aren’t you, Markie?’ she barked, stopping in front of his desk and turning to him.