Lola's House (Lola Series)

by Groers, Suzie

  I don’t as yet have a definite plan of action, so for now all I can do is get stuck in and get on with life instead of moping around, wondering what could have been. There is no point dwelling on the past. I made a mistake with James but I can make sure I learn from it and make better decisions in future.

  As I walk in the kitchen, I stop and groan. The table is still littered with chicken bones and glasses from Thursday night, which I had completely forgotten about, so I clear it all off, bin the rubbish and load the dishwasher and then give the table a good scrub.

  Satisfied it is all looking tidy, I open the door of the washing machine, ready to load it up and find it already half full. I stop in my tracks as I pull the garments out. I hold up the damp items – three shirts and two tee shirts – all of them belonging to Robert. I sniff at the shirts, expecting to smell Robert, but all I can smell is washing powder.

  I think for a moment what to do – I should return these items to him, but as I don’t know where he is, that will be a problem. I hang the shirts onto hangers to dry then load the machine with my own clothes and switch it on.

  Standing by the counter, biting the edge of my thumbnail, I listen to the sound of the machine filling with water and let my mind wander for a few moments. The events of this week have given me a sour taste in my mouth. Robert leaving the way he did has left me with an overwhelming sense of guilt I just can’t shake off, no matter how hard I try. I don’t know where he has gone, but I do know where his uncle is. If I explain everything to Mike I could at least get it off my chest. I know it won’t change what has happened, but at least then I won’t feel so bad.

  When I get to the pub the car park is heaving with Sunday lunchers. After driving round for a while, I find a space and park the car. Turning off the engine I check my appearance in the rear view mirror. The eyes staring back at me look strained and tired. I blink, not having expected it to be so evident.

  The weather has warmed up again and my dress is already sticking to my skin, I pull it away feeling clammy. I climb out the car, shutting the driver’s door behind me, and clutching the carrier bag of shirts in my hand. I take a deep breath to calm myself, and walk to the entrance.

  The pub is even more manic inside, every table is occupied and the waiters are running around like blue arsed flies, dispatching meals to the tables full of hungry people. I squeeze my way to the bar and my eyes scan around for Mike. Eventually, Karen, one of the bar staff I have seen on previous visits approaches me.

  ‘Hi, what can I get you? If you’re wanting a table you’ll have a long wait, as you can see we are packed out,’ she says, nodding her head at the cacophony going on behind me and rubbing the bar top with a cloth.

  ‘Actually, I was looking for Mike, could I have a quick word do you think?’ There are so many people squeezed in at the bar I am being jostled from both sides. A man to my right stands on my toe and pain shoots through my foot, I give him a death stare as he turns in my direction and he looks away again quickly mumbling his apologies.

  ‘Sorry love, no can do, he’s on a day off, picked a right bloody day for it too,’ she says, waving her hand at the crowded pub. ‘It’s been manic in here since we opened the doors. God alone knows why anyone would want a roast dinner in this heat.’

  ‘Oh, I really need to speak to him. Do you know when he’ll be back?’ The jostler lurches towards me again, turns and thinks better of it, shuffles back into his own space, a cautious look on his face.

  ‘Not today love, he’s gone to York to visit a relative. You can leave a message for him if you want to. I’ll probably still be here when he gets back.’ By the expression on her face this prospect isn’t going to make her happy.

  ‘Well, it was about one of his relatives actually, Robert – do you know him?’ I say, hopefully.

  ‘Robert?’ Her face lights up. ‘Mm yes, I know him, although not as intimately as I’d like too. He was in here last night in fact, but not for long.’

  ‘Do you know where he’s staying?’ I say, my own face now alight.

  She thinks for a moment, staring into space. ‘I think Mike said he was going back to his ex wife or girlfriend or whatever. She must be bloody mad whoever she is, I’d never let that one out of my sight.’

  The disappointment must be evident on my face, as her eyes narrow and she adds. ‘You’re not a girlfriend of his are you?’

  No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I’m just a friend.’

  She visibly loses patience at this point. ‘So, do you want to leave a message or not, I can’t stand here all day chatting.’

  ‘No, that’s fine thanks. I’ll speak to Mike another time.’ I turn and leave as she moves to serve the jostler.

  Back in the car I can feel the heat on the back of my neck. Beads of perspiration have collected on my forehead and a trickle of sweat runs down between my breasts. I can’t believe he has gone back to his ex girlfriend. From the way he had spoken about her, I’d got the impression that wasn’t an option, but obviously he did still have some feelings for her after all. Enough feelings to take on another man’s baby I think to myself.

  Opening the car window, the breeze wafts in over my clammy skin and I sigh with relief. At least now I know definitively where things stand. Robert has resumed his previous life, I now need to really pull myself together and get on with my own life.

  Time to stop mooning over Robert.

  Starting the engine I pull the car forwards and out the car park. My lips harden as I think to myself, no point in crying over what never was. Let’s just see what the future holds.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  A month and a half has gone by and I have thrown myself into my new life with gusto. I’ve worked hard at the shop, six days a week, sourcing vintage items and planning a new vintage inspired collection with Katherine. We have spent hours poring over the designs, studying vintage fashion books and choosing materials. I really want to be part of the next collection and Katherine is so dedicated to what she does, it’s a joy to work with her. She is now a regular visitor at the house, where we spread everything out on the kitchen table deciding what should be in the collection and what to leave for another season.

  The shop is doing remarkably well and we have taken on an extra member of part-time staff. The website is producing a lot of sales and enquiries and we have established a robust system for packing and processing orders. So all in all I feel quite satisfied with progress.

  Chrissie had gone to Poppy’s wedding without me after I had bailed with a migraine. I just couldn’t face turning up single to a whole day of watching loved up couples. It would probably have been too much for my new life to take. So I barricaded myself in the house with DVD’s and snacks until it was all over.

  I haven’t seen James since the night at Chrissie’s flat and for this I feel relieved. The skip on the drive had been taken away and replaced with a new one, so I have no idea whether he had retrieved his belongings or not, but either way, it would be a small loss compared to what he had done to me. I haven’t heard from Robert either, so his shirts still sit in a carrier bag where they would probably remain until I throw them out.

  Life at the house has also moved on. The renovations are now finished; the windows have been installed and the plastering completed. I had the hallway professionally decorated as I didn’t relish going that far up a ladder to hang paper, so now when I come in the door I’m greeted by beautiful wallpaper and pristine woodwork.

  Ned is no longer a feature at the house every day and in a funny way, I sort of miss his presence. He has promised to come back and install the kitchen when my funds are healthier but I’m happy to live with my mix and match cabinets for the time being. All that remains is for me to get stuck in decorating the rest of the rooms, which I will have to squeeze in between work commitments.

  In the shop one warm Tuesday afternoon, I’m tidying away the evidence of a busy morning. Muriel has popped out to do some errands on her lunch break. As I come from the stock room,
arms loaded with garments for the rails, the bell clangs above the door and a middle aged woman walks through, dressed very smartly in a sharp tailored suit, her glossy red bobbed hair framing her face. She smiles at me as she enters and wanders over to our new collection.

  I’m sorting the nearest rail, straightening a vintage silk dress on its wooden hanger, putting two more dresses on the rail. On a separates rail I hang a collection of skirts and arrange the rails so that everything has an inch of space in between. I am miles away in my head, dreaming of our next collection when I hear a gasp from the other side of the room and I look up.

  ‘I’m sorry, but this is wonderful,’ says the woman, holding up one of our vintage inspired wrap dresses. ‘The cut of this fabric is so clever and it hangs beautifully. You can’t even see the fastenings.’

  ‘Thank you, that one is from our newest collection, we sell a lot of those dresses. In fact, if you’re interested in that particular style we should be getting some more colours in a few days,’ I reply.

  ‘That’s fine,’ she says, picking up two dresses, a deep red and an emerald green and examining them. She then pulls a grey wool pencil skirt suit with a fitted jacket from another rail. ‘There are so many things to choose from, you have a wonderful collection here.’

  ‘Thank you, you’re very kind,’ I say, smiling and welling up with pride.

  She approaches the counter and holds out the dresses. ‘You’re the owner aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Lola Page.’ I take the garments from her and start to ring them through the till.

  ‘I’m Cassie Somerton - I saw the article about the re-launch in the local paper and I just had to come and check you out. I own a few vintage shops in Derbyshire and I’m looking to expand further afield.’ She hands me her business card. ‘You should come and have a look at one of my shops; I think you would love them.’

  ‘Oh thank you, maybe I will,’ I smile, carefully folding her purchases, layering tissue paper in between each garment.

  She looks around again, her red bob swinging like a curtain of silk. ‘Have you ever thought of selling?’

  ‘Not seriously, no. I love this shop,’ I say, before I can stop myself.

  ‘And it shows, Lola, it’s a credit to you, but I’d like to make you an offer,’ she says, fixing her blue eyes on me.

  I blink in surprise. ‘I’m not really interested in selling at the moment, sorry.’ I slide the wrapped garments into a stiff paper carrier and hold up the ribbon handles for her to take.

  ‘Well, I’d give you a very generous price. Why don’t you think about it? You’ve got my card, give me a call if you change your mind. Or better still, pop over to my shop and see me, the address is on there.’

  ‘I doubt I will change my mind, but if I do I’ll call you, thank you.’

  She takes the proffered carrier bag from my hand. ‘Wonderful to meet you, Lola.’ She shakes my hand firmly with her free hand and then the bell clangs above the door as she leaves.

  A huge smile breaks out on my face and I feel my eyes crease up. If ever I had needed validation that the shop was looking good and doing well that was it. A surge of happiness floods through me and I realise it’s the first time in the last month or so that I have felt really, truly happy.

  I am still grinning to myself when Muriel comes bustling back into the shop, laden with bags.

  ‘It was manic in the post office, I stood half an hour in the queue. I had to dash round the supermarket afterwards to get everything that I need. I managed to get us some sandwiches but I didn’t get chance to go for coffees.’ She places her bags on the counter and pulls out the sandwiches. ‘You’re looking chirpy, has something happened?’

  I pass the business card to her and tell her about Cassie Somerton. ‘So what do you think?’

  ‘About selling?’ A worried look wrinkles her brow.

  ‘Yes, I mean no, I’d never sell up. But someone likes our shop so much they want to buy it, isn’t that fantastic?’

  ‘It is fantastic, but we’ve worked really hard to get it like this,’ she says, concern clearly etched on her face.

  ‘We have worked hard, Muriel. And that offer just proves how worthwhile it was.’ I take in her frown - she still has doubt behind her eyes so I wrap her in a big hug. ‘Don’t worry, Muriel. There’s no way I’d sell up after what we’ve been through, so you’re stuck with me I’m afraid. Now, I’m going to fetch us some coffee and cake to celebrate, be back in two ticks.’ I grab my purse and leave her sorting through her shopping.

  I almost skip down the street, I feel so happy. It’s as if life is finally giving something back and rewarding me for all the hard work over the past few months. God knows they haven’t been easy and I’ve paid the price in many respects. I just hope Muriel won’t feel like I’m going to bail on her now. The shop is so special to me and I need it now more than ever. I’ll have a serious talk with her when I get back, I think as I stride along.

  There’s a line of people waiting to be served in the coffee shop, but today I don’t mind as that just gives me more time to give proper respect to the muffins, carrot cake and flapjacks and decide which to take back for a treat. My mind is miles away, still thinking about Cassie Somerton. The queue is slowly shuffling forwards when I am bought back to the present and become aware of someone talking to me.

  ‘Hello, Lola.’

  My head snaps up and my eyes take a few seconds to focus and realise who is trying to pull my attention away from the sweet cabinet.

  ‘Robert,’ I say, blinking in surprise.

  ‘Hi, you were miles away,’ he says, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

  ‘I thought you had gone back to Edinburgh?’ I say, still adjusting to the sight of him.

  ‘No, I’m here as you see.’ He holds out his hands, palms up as if to prove his existence.

  ‘I was told you had gone back to your ex?’ I blurt it quickly. Sometimes it isn’t that I am stuck for words, more like I am trying to get rid of them by forcing them out involuntarily.

  ‘What? God no, I went up to tie up some loose ends with a contract but that’s all,’ he says, grimacing. I feel a little bit of hope coming to the surface.

  ‘Oh, well…you’re looking good anyway, I mean well. You’re looking well.’ There I go again, words out, don’t bother thinking about the choice first.

  ‘You’re looking good too,’ he says, smiling his crooked smile. ‘So you’re on the coffee run?’

  ‘Yes, just a little something for Muriel and myself,’ I say, picking up a nice plump piece of carrot cake, wrapped in cellophane.

  He nods and smiles and the queue shuffles forwards another few feet.

  ‘I never told James to tell you to move out.’ It blurts from my mouth before I can stop it. If only I could engage my brain first, but I breathe a sigh of relief anyway. I’d wanted to say that for weeks and now it was finally out I felt much better for it.

  ‘I know, I think I realised afterwards, I should have waited and spoken to you first, but he just got me so fired up, it was all I could do not to punch him,’ he replies. The tension from that particular memory is evident on his face and I can just imagine what went down that day.

  ‘I’m just pleased I got the chance to tell you, it’s been bothering me ever since,’ I say, smiling at him, trying to make it alright again.

  ‘How is James?’ He curls his lip at the corner.

  ‘I don’t know, I threw him out,’ I say, searching his eyes for a reaction.

  ‘Not because of me?’

  ‘No,’ I blush furiously. ‘No, there were other reasons.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lola, I’m not trying to intrude,’ he says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  I feel the heat of his hand through the material of my blouse and my senses swim. In that moment, it feels that perhaps the hours I have spent with Robert have all been a dream - they feel so far away. ‘I know, don’t worry about it, it’s all in the past now.’

  We eventually get to
the front of the queue. He orders two coffees and I place my order with the other server as he pays and picks up his drinks.

  ‘It really was nice to see you, take care of yourself, Lola,’ he says, his eyes full of sincerity.

  ‘You too,’ I watch as he walks away to a table by the window, and gives one coffee to a pretty young blonde woman and keeps one for himself. I feel my heart sink as she leans into him and places her hand lovingly on his arm. Her lovely face creases with laughter as she chatters away excitedly, all the time flashing her pearly white teeth, crowned with a cute little beauty spot above her lip.

  I suddenly feel hot, like I am going to pass out, my legs are trembling and I can’t breathe. I grab my purchases and push my way out the shop as fast as I can and into the cooling summer breeze.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Sunday mornings have become a bit of a nightmare of late. Having gone from house full, to empty and silent in a matter of weeks, I have been rattling around on my own like a lost soul. Thankfully, this morning I have Chrissie for company after she stayed over last night for a girl’s night. Cal had gone on a lad’s night out so we were left to our own devices. We indulged in wine, pizza and chocolates while she helped me to choose a colour scheme for the main living room. Not exactly rock and roll but we spent a few hours chilling out, and chatting, putting our world to rights, before crashing out for the night.

  This morning, I have loaded the table with croissants warmed in the oven, granary toast, jam and marmalade, fresh fruit and yogurt and orange juice.

  She breezes into the kitchen - hair wrapped in a towel fresh from the shower, and takes one look at the table and stops. ‘Bloody hell, Lola, are you feeding an army?’

  ‘I thought we might need a bit of sustenance after all the wine we put away between us last night.’ I place a steaming teapot on the table which is now groaning with food.

  ‘I’m not complaining, I’m starving,’ she says, sitting down and grabbing a croissant and starting to pull away at the layers. ‘So, tell me again about Robert.’