Mick also has more of a stage presence than Gaz, the supposedly classically trained actor.
Amazingly, Mick’s patter works, as he catches the attention of all kinds of people, who make their way towards the train, intrigued by the weird little engine.
‘Ivy,’ I hear a familiar voice say.
‘Seb,’ I reply. ‘Hello.’
Seb, who is wearing a grey suit and a long black smart coat, rubs his hands together as he smiles at the train.
‘What is this?’
‘Oh, it’s just a cute little thing to take people to the shop and back,’ I tell him. ‘Being so out of the way, no one knows we’re there.’
‘That’s a really good idea,’ he says. ‘You know, I’m actually planning something similar, for when the holiday homes are up.’
‘Oh really?’ I reply, doing my best to feign ignorance.
‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘Potentially reworking the bus routes, or adding a new one in. It’s a woefully neglected side of the town.’
I know that all too well.
‘Hey, can I get a lift?’ he asks. ‘It would be great to experience the route as a passenger.’
‘Sure,’ I reply reluctantly. Well, it’s a free train. I can’t exactly stop him, can I?
It’s amazing, to see the train carriages packed with people. I just wish I didn’t have to sit with Seb on the journey back.
For the first minute or two we enjoy the silence between us, before Seb breaks it.
‘Prue is lovely, isn’t she?’
I ponder for a second whether his proper, Queen’s English way of speaking might be put on – then again, I’m not sure he could keep up the act.
‘She is,’ I reply.
‘Everyone is lovely, really,’ he continues. ‘They told me, don’t waste your time in Marram Bay, they’re closed-minded, they don’t like outsiders, they won’t give you a fair shot.’
As Seb badmouths my hometown, I only feel my anger increase.
‘But everyone has been great, and I feel like I have everyone’s blessing. That’s so important.’
‘Yes,’ I lie, because he doesn’t have my blessing at all. It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve been timidly hinting that I’m not happy about how things are playing out, but at no point have I gone all out, speaking my mind, shouting at the top of my lungs about how important the shop is to me. I haven’t actually told anyone that I’m devastated to be losing the shop that my mum built up from nothing. I haven’t said that I’m terrified of losing my livelihood and my home. Instead, I just hoped that nature would take its course and the locals would reject Seb and his plans. Now, everyone has accepted him and given the project their blessing, I feel like it’s too late for me to say anything.
‘Is there anything I need to know about the town?’ he asks.
‘Like what?’ I reply, gazing out of the window. The last thing I want to be doing at the moment is hand-holding Seb.
‘The kind of things that an estate agent would never tell me.’ He laughs. ‘Any dark secrets? Flooding issues? Weird cults?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ I tell him. ‘It’s quite boring here, really. If you’re used to living in big cities, it’s going to be a shock to the system.’
I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath, trying to put him off moving here.
While moving from a big city to a coastal town like Marram Bay may be a shock to the system, life here is in no way boring. Being a tourist hotspot, there’s almost always something unique and fun going on. At this time of year, we have our Winter Wonderland Festival, down by the beach, with stalls, rides, games, and entertainment. In the summer, we have our annual Forties weekend where, to raise money for charity and remember the war, everyone dresses up in fashion from the era, we put tape on our windows, and we rid the streets of all things modern. Union Jack flags fly everywhere, on streets crawling with army vehicles and personnel, and people take it really seriously – it’s fascinating. If that’s not weird and wonderful enough, we even have our own hot air balloon festival, which sees over 100 hot air balloons gathering here. It’s simply amazing, to see them all dotted around in the sky. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the food festivals.
When you throw in the eclectic cast of characters who live here, and their often dramatic day-to-day lives, it’s never a dull moment. Even for someone like me, with a painfully boring life, things aren’t all that boring really, because there’s so much to see and so much to do – even watching the tide come in is a blast here, watching the sea slowly consuming the road, isolating Hope Island from the rest of the country, leaving it out there alone in the North Sea, to fend for itself. Apparently the Vikings raided the island, once upon a time, and if they could survive that, I’m sure they can survive anything.
‘Hmm,’ he replies. ‘Well, maybe that’s just what I need.’
We fall silent again. Surely Seb can tell that I don’t really want to talk to him? Maybe that’s why he’s persisting, to toy with me.
‘So, business is picking up?’ he asks.
‘It is,’ I reply.
‘And, you have a train full of customers,’ he points out.
‘Did you have to go to business school for many years, to make such intelligent observations?’ I ask sarcastically.
Seb laughs. ‘I actually had a business idea for you,’ he starts.
I turn to face him, suddenly interested. Well, all Seb’s business ideas do seem to be genuinely brilliant ideas.
‘Oh really?’
‘Yeah,’ he says with a smile. ‘You’ve got all that stock, you just need people to sell it to, and there is one place that has even more people than the town centre does.’
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for answer.
‘The internet,’ he says proudly.
‘The internet?’
‘Yeah, what you need is an eBay Store,’ he says. ‘You can list all your things on there and people all over the country can buy them – people all over the world, even. You just list things online, wait for the orders and then post them out. You’ll significantly increase your customer base, and your profits, obviously.’
I think for a second. Wow, that’s actually a really good idea. I can’t believe I’d never thought of it myself. I do have so much stock, and if half my problem is visibility, then selling online is just what I need. Best of all, I’m tech savvy enough to execute it – this could be just what I need to boost my profits, which will go some of the way to helping me save the shop.
‘That’s actually a great idea,’ I tell him with a smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘I am not good at many things, but I’m good at this. Don’t sound so surprised.’
‘I guess I’m just surprised because you’re helping me – why would you help me increase business at a shop you’re closing down?’
‘That’s exactly why I’m helping,’ he admits. ‘I do feel for you, Ivy.’
I give Seb a half-smile. I’m still not exactly sure why he’s helping me.
‘I don’t want to see you stuck,’ he continues. ‘Changing your business to an online only one is the perfect way for you to keep going, without premises.’
My heart sinks, so low I can feel it knocking around in my Ugg boot. Seb isn’t helping me with the shop at all; he’s helping me deal with the aftermath of losing it. I suppose that’s good of him, he doesn’t have to help me pick myself back up…but, given that he’s the one knocking me down, it’s hard to be grateful.
‘I’ll give that a go,’ I tell him honestly, because I will, but I have no intention of rolling over just yet. Perhaps Seb’s idea, along with my other efforts, will go a long way to helping me get a mortgage. That reminds me, I need to arrange a meeting at the bank, to see what my options are.
‘Please don’t think I don’t realise that my plans will impact on you. But it’s business, not personal, and if it isn’t me buying the place, it’s going to be someone else – someone who might not do as good a job.’
I can
see sympathy in his eyes, like he knows what he’s doing is going to ruin my life, but if he were that sorry, he wouldn’t be doing it, would he?
‘I do have another suggestion, to make the transition easier for you,’ he starts.
I detect a hint of apprehension in his words.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, well, once we’re up and running, there are going to be lots of jobs going around the accommodation, and you’re being so helpful, I could do with someone like you during the planning and building stages.’
‘Are you offering me a job?’ I ask in disbelief.
‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘Just until you figure things out, or long term, if you’d like.’
‘So, let me get this straight, you’re knocking down my business and my family home in one fell swoop of a bulldozer, and now you’re asking me to work for you as a glorified skivvy, running around after you until the holiday homes are built, and then you’ll let me clean the toilets?’
‘Ivy, I didn’t mean it like that,’ he says softly. ‘I just thought it might help you.’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ I stress. ‘I don’t need any help from you.’
We make the rest of the journey in silence.
I can’t seem to figure Seb out. He’s either a really good person, or doing a really good job at pretending to be one. Ruthless businessmen don’t have consciences, do they? They don’t destroy people’s livelihoods but then offer them jobs, do they? Or drive around in diesel-guzzling cars, constructing buildings in the beautiful countryside, only to go all out with their environmental efforts, trying to make the world a better place? It has to be an act, and it’s annoying me that everyone but me seems to be falling for it.
My bad mood lifts a little, at the sight of a crowd of people all walking up the pathway to my little shop. I watch, as people marvel at the Christmas decorations outside. I am delighted to see that the slushy remains of the snowfall has caused Seb’s spray-painted markings on the road to almost disappear, leaving behind nothing but running colours on the wet road which, although they still look out of place, are less conspicuous.
I follow the crowd into the shop and spot a panic-stricken Gaz behind the counter, because he hasn’t been trained on how to deal with customers yet. When he notices me, I watch as his panic turns into relief.
‘Don’t worry, I’m here,’ I tell him, joining him behind the counter. ‘I can show you the ropes with real customers, rather than hypothetical ones.’
As customers step up to the counter with their purchases, I begin taking Gaz through the motions of how to serve them.
Gaz’s natural charm shines through with the customers and, to his credit, he manages to be charming without flirting, even when he serves a woman in an especially low-cut top. I would’ve thought that would trigger the horny Santa in him, but he is the model employee.
‘This isn’t so bad,’ he says. ‘It’s a good laugh.’
I smile. It’s hard not to be taken with the atmosphere here when it’s busy. Seeing everyone so happy, so full of festive cheer, so in awe of all the decorations – it’s nice.
As Gaz serves customers, I rearrange things behind the counter, making it an easier space for Gaz to work in. It may be organised chaos back here, but it’s my chaos. Only I know where everything is.
‘This place is different when it has customers,’ I hear Seb’s voice from behind me.
‘It is,’ I reply. ‘You see, Christmas shops are popular, people just need to know where they are.’
He gives me a very business-like nod. ‘I just had a few questions about the place,’ Seb says. ‘When you have time?’
‘How about now?’ I suggest, just wanting to get it out of the way. ‘You can handle things, right, Gaz?’
‘Oh, you know me, I can handle anything,’ he says with a wink.
I ponder for a second whether or not he’s flirting with me. I don’t think he is. I think a flirtatious tone and winking just come naturally to him. I imagine he’s always like this, whether he’s buying milk or asking for directions.
‘Come through to the kitchen,’ I instruct Seb.
As he steps behind the counter to follow me, I notice Gaz look him up and down, giving him an intimidating glare. Well, as intimidating as he can be with a man who is 6 inches taller than him.
We take a seat at the kitchen table.
‘What are these?’ Seb asks, looking at the plate on the table.
‘Christmas chocolates for my niece and nephew,’ I tell him. ‘They’re milk chocolate, with crushed-up candy canes and popping candy – feel free to try one. The kids love them. I make them every year.’
Seb pops one of the chocolates in his mouth.
‘Ivy, these are amazing,’ he says through a mouthful. ‘You made these?’
‘I was a confectioner,’ I tell him. ‘I used to make chocolates, sweets – all kinds of treats really – at one of the shops in town.’
‘So you actually were a chef in a past life,’ he says. ‘I thought maybe you were just being cute. Can I…’
‘Help yourself,’ I say with a slight laugh. ‘I can always make more.’
Seb gleefully takes another chocolate. ‘So, I only have a few questions that you can hopefully help me with,’ he starts, before placing the chocolate in his mouth.
‘Sure, go for it,’ I say.
‘Does the traffic ever get noisy, on the road outside?’
‘There is almost no traffic at all out there,’ I say. ‘I told you, satnavs don’t bring people this way.’
‘That’s great,’ he says. I suppose it is great for him. His customers will have booked; they won’t be coming in from the street.
‘Is it not a bit creepy here, just you, no other buildings, people, traffic…’
‘I’m not a teenage girl in a horror movie.’ I laugh. ‘I’ve lived here my whole life. I’m used to it.’
‘I’m used to living in apartments, with lots of neighbours, in cities with lots of sirens and drunk people shouting throughout the night.’
‘Well, you won’t need to worry about that here,’ I tell him. ‘There’s virtually no noise here. Just foxes, the distant mooing of cows, bats…’
‘Are there bats in here?’ he asks, suddenly adopting a more formal tone.
‘In the shop? No.’ I laugh again.
‘What about in the trees outside?’
‘Unsurprisingly, I haven’t climbed them recently,’ I tell him. ‘Why?’
‘Well, we’re not getting rid of the trees, but you’re not allowed to disturb nesting bats, so that could be a problem,’ Seb says, fully snapped back into business mode.
Oh, how I’m praying for a problem. Perhaps I could get some bats from somewhere, put them up in the shop somewhere, then he’ll have to leave the place alone. Although not only would I not know where to find bats, I’m also weirdly terrified of them. I think I essentially view them as very large moths with teeth – a concept that is truly terrifying.
‘Anything else?’ I ask.
‘That’s it for now,’ he replies. ‘Can I take one for the road?’
He gestures towards the plate, and I nod.
‘Hey, who is the guy out there?’
‘Santa Claus,’ I reply, straight-faced.
‘He’s shorter than I expected.’ Seb laughs.
‘Shorter? Not thinner, younger, or more covered with tattoos?’ I reply, in Gaz’s defence, for some reason.
‘He didn’t give me the warmest of looks,’ Seb points out. ‘I must be on his naughty list.’
‘Sounds about right.’
‘So, is he new here? Mr Andrews said you worked here alone.’
What does Seb care? It’s none of his business.
‘He is new,’ I reply. ‘He used to play Santa at the garden centre. Now he’s going to do it here, and he’s helping out with shop duties.’
‘Are you old friends or something? He seems very protective of you,’ Seb observes.
‘Something like that,�
�� I reply. I don’t mention that we haven’t even celebrated our 48-hour anniversary yet.
‘He kind of seemed like he was flirting with you…’
‘Are these business questions?’ I ask. ‘Are they going to help you with the sale?’
Seb smiles.
‘That’s just the way he is. He flirts with everyone,’ I explain, although I don’t know why I’m telling Seb this. ‘He’s harmless; it’s not like he’s planting kisses on me under false pretences.’
He must think I’m stupid, that maybe if he gives me a bit of attention, I’ll do whatever he wants, because I’m a desperate female and he knows the power he has over women – well, not this one.
‘Ivy, that’s not what that was,’ Seb explains. ‘I wasn’t trying to get one over on you. We were under the mistletoe, we were getting along… It just felt right, didn’t it?’
‘It didn’t,’ I say firmly. ‘Do you know how many strangers I kiss under the mistletoe, what with it being there all year round?’
The answer is zero – I kiss zero people under that mistletoe. Well, I suppose my total is one now, since Seb.
‘I’ll get going then,’ he says, but his eyes aren’t on me, they’re on the chocolates.
‘Take one,’ I insist.
He flashes that cheeky, dimpled smile of his at me, the one that, when I first saw it, sent me all googly-eyed. Now, it just makes him seem kind of smug.
‘Probably see you tomorrow,’ he says as he heads for the door.
Oh, I can’t wait!
Chapter 10
It’s true what they say: men are like buses. And, no, I don’t mean they’re dirty, unreliable, and will let just about anyone ride them. I mean you go from having none in your life, only for two to come along at once. That’s me, the girl who has no men present in her day-to-day life – unless you count the postman – and now I’m spending my morning with two: Gaz and Seb.
I’ve gotten so used to spending my workdays alone but here I am, splitting my time between helping Gaz get to grips with things on the now much busier shop floor, and chatting with Seb in the kitchen, who seems to have an infinite list of questions for me.
Love and Lies at the Village Christmas Shop Page 7
