The Spring of Second Chances : An absolutely perfect and uplifting romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  Back in the office, as she had hoped, Dixon was in full swing. With as little fuss as possible she placed a mug in front of him and the other beside Adam Hendry.

  Dixon thanked her but Adam merely gave his cup a cursory glance before returning his attention to a graph that Dixon was explaining to him. Phoebe hovered behind them as Dixon began to speak again. She watched as he toggled from that screen, through spreadsheets on the results of marketing campaigns and information on local demographics. None of it really meant a great deal to her but she did her best to make some sense of it. She had never been a number cruncher – more of a people person, connected to the world emotionally rather than by logic and facts. Was that, perhaps, what Dixon was hoping she’d bring to his new team? It was certainly all she had to offer at the moment.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Hendry Senior. ‘Phoebe… do you have any ideas for the coming weeks? Plans to capitalise on the summer months?’

  Phoebe fought to suppress the blush that spread across her cheeks again. She knew it made her look like a silly schoolgirl rather than a confident career woman with something relevant to say. ‘Um… I will… I mean… Today I’m concentrating on finding my feet…’

  ‘But you must have given it some thought already. You have been preparing to take on the job for a week and were aware of the interview long before that. You must have known that you would be required to make a meaningful contribution early on. After all, that is what I’m paying you for.’

  She gave a weak smile. She had, of course, thought of little else. But faced with his demands here and now, everything she’d talked about earlier with Midnight seemed stupid and pointless. ‘I’d rather finalise the details and submit my ideas properly when I do.’

  ‘I’d like to hear about your cosplay idea,’ Adam said.

  Phoebe stared at him, the blood now draining from her face. Had he been hiding somewhere in the stockroom? If so why, and how much of her conversation had he heard? Had old Mr Hendry been somewhere in the vicinity too? More to the point, how had Adam got to the attic room so bloody fast? He had been there before Phoebe who had gone straight up after leaving Midnight and had pretty much run. She forced herself to calm down. If he’d been up here when she arrived back then he couldn’t have been in the stockroom long enough to hear the conversation between her and Midnight in its entirety. But she would have to remember that seemingly empty stockrooms had dark and dusty corners where people could lurk undetected. In future, conversations of a possibly compromising nature must be held safely away from Hendry’s toy store.

  She tried to read Adam’s expression again and was still confused by his intentions. She was sure she could see that mocking humour, but no anger or malice.

  ‘I haven’t had time to think that through yet.’

  ‘Share what you have,’ Adam insisted.

  Phoebe took a deep breath, wishing she could slap him. ‘I was thinking we could tap into the current craze for adults to dress up –’

  ‘Silly student types,’ Mr Hendry cut in, barely disguised disdain in his voice. Clearly his values were still of the type where respectable people who would make something of themselves in the world stopped having fun the moment they stopped wearing nappies.

  ‘Money from a student loan is just as good as anyone else’s to us,’ Adam replied. ‘All that matters is that it ends up in our tills, wherever it comes from.’

  ‘Erm… right…’ Phoebe agreed uncertainly. She glanced at Mr Hendry who didn’t argue but didn’t look as though his son had changed his opinions of students one bit. ‘It’s actually much bigger than that, though,’ she continued. ‘If you think about comic conventions, fundraising events, Halloween, parties… there’s a lot of demand nowadays. We could even think about a fancy dress hire department.’

  Dixon nodded enthusiastically. ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘Surely,’ Mr Hendry interrupted, ‘these plans are more to do with our buying team than promotions.’

  ‘But we could liaise with our buying team to make sure we’re stocked for events and special promotions that we run,’ Phoebe continued, getting into her stride now that she could see the merest sniff of interest. He was doing his best not to show it but she could see it just the same. ‘So if, for instance, we ran a superhero-themed day where the staff dressed up and we ran special prices on say, Marvel merchandise, we could get the buying team to ensure we have the stock in to capitalise on that…’

  Old Hendry nodded slowly. ‘Good… anything else?’

  ‘We could link up with local comic cons… comic conventions… to perhaps give sponsorship or get our name on their websites and advertising as their preferred costume supplier. And the dressing-up possibilities are endless. It’s not just about comics but about gaming, big movie franchises and cult TV. People like to dress as anything they’ve seen online or on film as well as books and comics so not only could we make money on ready-made costumes but on props for people making their own – things like fake swords and magic wands.’

  The two Hendry men looked at Dixon. Neither of their expressions gave anything away. ‘What are your thoughts?’ old Hendry asked.

  Dixon paled slightly. Phoebe felt guilty and wished she’d had more time to give him a fuller picture of her plans before he’d been put on the spot. But then, she’d been put on the spot too. He would have to make a snap decision and if one or both Hendrys didn’t agree he’d look bad. It was a tough break for someone in his position.

  ‘I’ll need time to look at it all properly. And I’ll need marketing information. In principle I have no objections to a small-scale trial.’

  Old Hendry nodded. He turned to Phoebe. ‘Any other brainwaves you’d like to share?’

  ‘Um…’ Phoebe began. Far from being relieved that she had been able to offer something not instantly dismissed as rubbish, she now felt even greater pressure to follow it up. ‘I had some ideas for younger children… perhaps a featured story of the day, with linked props and toys available to buy at strategic points in the store and close to the story area throughout the session. We could even charge a small fee for admission to the story area… something nominal that appeals to the customer but still makes us a little on the side. So if we got twenty children at a time, three sessions a day, for instance, at one pound per child, that would net us sixty pounds for that day plus additional toy or book purchases.’

  ‘One pound?’ Mr Hendry’s shocked glare was almost comical. Phoebe felt the blush rise to her cheeks again.

  ‘It’s just an example, off the top of my head.’

  ‘We could charge two pounds per child and it’s still low as far as the customer is concerned,’ Adam cut in, ‘but then the figures start to look good for us.’

  Instead of a reply, Old Hendry stood up. ‘Work out your proposals – anything you’ve told us about and anything else you’ve got. Let me see them on paper with proper figures. Then we’ll see what we agree on.’

  ‘No problem,’ Dixon jumped in and replied for Phoebe. ‘Leave it with us.’

  With that, Mr Hendry nodded to his son who took the signal that it was time to leave. Adam gave Phoebe a look that lasted just a little too long and was just a little too intense. Once again, she felt the colour rise to her cheeks. She didn’t even know why.

  As the two men closed the door to the attic office behind them, their footsteps receding, Dixon turned to Phoebe.

  ‘Ruddy hell! Welcome to the world of PR!’

  Phoebe gave him a bemused smile.

  ‘When did you dream that little lot up? You’ve sat there, as quiet as a gagged mouse all morning, and not mentioned a thing. I thought you needed time to settle in but you were way ahead of me.’

  Phoebe almost laughed out loud. She had been thinking that she was expected to hit the ground running and been panicking about it, where Dixon hadn’t hassled her because he thought she needed time to settle in.

  ‘Perhaps a bit of communication might be an idea in future,’ Phoebe smiled. ‘Sorry abou
t that.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Dixon agreed. ‘So… let’s get the low down on these ideas of yours, now that we don’t have our lords and masters breathing down our necks. At least we can think and discuss things without any pressure.’ He gave a broad smile, like a proud parent who’d just been handed a particularly pleasing school report. ‘I’ve got a feeling we’re going to make a good little team once we’re up and running.’

  Phoebe sincerely hoped so. She had more riding on it than he could possibly know.

  ‘Oh my God, I am so sorry I made you sit through that film!’ Jack groaned as the movie credits rolled. ‘Archie says it’s brilliant. Just goes to show that we have very different ideas about what makes a good film.’

  Phoebe laughed. ‘I’ve seen worse.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Attack of the Killer Vampire Sex Bees from Outer Space…’

  ‘Sounds like a classic. Are you quite sure that film actually exists?’

  ‘Sure. On some dodgy cable channel I bet.’ Phoebe stretched out. She was lying across the sofa, her bare feet resting on his lap. With a wicked grin he grabbed them and started to tickle her.

  ‘Oi’ she squealed. ‘Stop it!’

  ‘Shhhh!’ he laughed, ‘you’ll wake Maria!’

  ‘You’re the one making me scream,’ Phoebe giggled as she yanked her feet away and held a cushion over them.

  ‘His eyes sparkled as he gave her a sly glance. ‘I could make you scream…’

  Phoebe threw the cushion at him. ‘Filthy boy.’

  ‘Alright,’ he continued with an impish grin, ‘any other ideas? What do we do now?’

  ‘We have to dissect the film, obviously,’ she replied, trying to look stern.

  ‘Crap. That’s it… film dissected and conclusion reached and it’s only nine-thirty. So what else can we do?’

  ‘Dishes?’

  ‘Naked dishes?’

  Phoebe let out a snort of laughter. ‘That’s the weirdest image. I won’t be able to get it out of my head now.’

  ‘I’m sure I could find ways to make you forget.’ Jack leaned in to kiss her. Then his hands were tugging her close, in her hair, his lips taking no prisoners as her senses exploded. She was molten as he worked his mouth over her neck, his fingertips along her arms in gentle relays making her shiver with desire. His touch was so gentle and yet so potent. She didn’t know what it was he did to turn her into a puddle of lust but he did it so well she could never get enough of it.

  ‘Bed?’ he whispered as she took a minute to catch her breath.

  ‘Bed sounds good,’ she replied, her voice barely a sigh.

  He leapt off the sofa and swept her into his arms as though she weighed little more than a feather. At the foot of the stairs he kissed her again. She gazed at him as he pulled away, drinking in every inch of his eyes – so close she could make out the amethyst flecks in the dazzling blue, shining with intelligence and sensitivity – the thick hair so dark it was almost black, the fine shadow of stubble that dusted his chin and accentuated the dimples of his smile. She could lie in his arms and stare at him all day every day for the rest of her life and it still wouldn’t be enough. Did she love him? It was a question she was asking more and more these days. She was beginning to think that she did, truly and completely.

  His foot rested on the bottom step.

  ‘You can’t carry me up there; you’ll break your neck,’ Phoebe giggled.

  ‘Strong man, mighty man, mighty horny! Can do anything!’ he replied in his best caveman voice.

  ‘Put me down, you mentalist! There’ll be no rumpy pumpy if you do your back in.’

  ‘I have to impress you with my strength as well as my chocolate cake.’

  Phoebe burst into laughter again as he wobbled up the first three steps.

  And then a knock at the front door sounded through the house. Phoebe watched his grin turn to a frown.

  ‘Who the hell is that now?’

  ‘Perhaps it’s Doreen from next door?’ Phoebe said. ‘Maybe she needs something.’

  ‘I doubt it’s Doreen at this time of night.’ Jack lowered Phoebe to the step. The letterbox opened and a voice called through.

  Jack’s frown turned into something far darker. The muscles in his jaw twitched and tensed. He turned and thundered down the stairs, yanking the front door open.

  ‘Archie! Don’t you think you should have called first?’

  Jack’s brother glanced up at Phoebe, still standing on the stairs in a state of semi-undress, her hair tousled. He threw Jack a wide grin.

  ‘Was I interrupting something?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Jack growled.

  ‘I won’t be long; I just need a favour. Aren’t you going to let me in?’

  Jack looked up at Phoebe, who shrugged slightly. He opened the door wider to allow Archie in. ‘Ten minutes,’ he said as he led him through to the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll go and tidy the living room,’ Phoebe called after them. Something about Jack’s manner told her that any conversation he was about to have with Archie was private. She took herself down to pick up the bits and pieces they had left lying around during their film evening. She could hear them, in the kitchen, their voices low – Archie’s tone jaunty and mocking, Jack’s deeper and more solemn. As she tidied up, Jack’s voice got louder and more agitated, though still not loud enough for her to make out what they were saying. Every so often she caught the odd word, like ‘mum’ and ‘idiot’ and ‘money’ but the meaning of all this remained frustratingly absent.

  When every cushion had been plumped, every throw folded into a neat square, every DVD case on the shelf positioned so that they were all perfectly aligned, Phoebe could stand it no longer. She was going to confront the two of them and get to the bottom of whatever was troubling them, whether Jack liked it or not. She and Jack shouldn’t have secrets anyway, she reasoned; it wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t a good basis for a long term relationship. Besides, perhaps she could help if she knew what it was.

  But Jack and Archie emerged from the kitchen and met her in the hall. For once, Archie’s cocky and carefree demeanour had faded, replaced with an expression almost as thunderous as the one Jack wore.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Phoebe asked, looking from one to the other.

  ‘I’m off,’ Archie snapped back. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening,’ he added in a savage tone.

  Phoebe threw Jack a questioning look but he shook his head to indicate that she shouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t ask – not until Archie had gone, anyway. She winced as Archie slammed the front door behind him before stalking off into the night. There was no way the racket could fail to have roused Maria. Jack must have had the same idea, because they turned as one to look towards the stairs and listened. But all seemed quiet. Phoebe released a breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding.

  ‘Archie didn’t seem very happy,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘He wasn’t. Neither was I.’

  ‘Want to tell me what’s happening?’

  Jack didn’t reply. Instead, he went back into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge. ‘Want one?’ he asked as Phoebe joined him.

  She shook her head. ‘I have to be up early and a hangover won’t help.’

  He shrugged, opened the bottle and took a long swig, almost slamming it back onto the worktop afterwards. Leaning against the marble surface, he exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze turned heavenwards. Phoebe had never seen him look this troubled before, not even when she had walked in on him and Archie arguing the week before. Something was going on between them and it wasn’t good. It concerned her and upset her in equal measure. Her own brother, Josh, had moved to Australia three years ago. She missed him terribly and she couldn’t imagine hating him like Jack seemed to hate Archie right now. If there was something she could do to help make things right between them then she wanted to be allowed to try.

  ‘You have to talk to me, Jack.’

&
nbsp; He turned his gaze to her. ‘About what?’

  ‘Whatever is going on with you and Archie.’

  ‘What makes you think anything is going on? He annoyed me, that’s all, turning up unannounced at this time of night.’

  Phoebe frowned. ‘You still feel like going to bed?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘That’s what makes me think something is going on. Are you going to tell me?’

  ‘It’ll blow over. There’s no need for you to worry about it.’

  ‘But I do worry. It’s clearly affecting you and that means it affects me. It affects Maria too, if it comes to it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It just does.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Please, Jack –’

  ‘I said I don’t want to talk about it!’

  Phoebe glared at him. ‘There’s no need to shout.’

  ‘Then shut up about things that don’t concern you.’

  As he took another long gulp of his beer Phoebe held him in a silent gaze. He was angry and he was being unreasonable, and as much as she wanted to she fought the impulse to retaliate. This wasn’t her Jack talking right now.

  ‘Shall I go?’ she asked in a measured tone.

  Jack lowered the bottle. Despite his neutral expression, she could see he was distressed by the fact that he’d obviously hurt her. She could also see anger still burning him up.

  ‘Perhaps it’s best if you do.’

  ‘I’ll call a taxi then.’ Even now, Phoebe hoped he would argue against this, but he simply nodded and sat down at the table, studying his bottle. After a heartbeat’s pause, she went to fetch her phone, trying very hard not to cry.

  Midnight twirled.

  ‘You do look amazing,’ Phoebe smiled.

  ‘Want me to try any of the others on?’

  Phoebe glanced at a huge pile of multicoloured clothes lying on the chair of the staffroom. One or two others getting ready for the morning shift looked on with barely disguised amusement, whilst Gareth Parker, long-time admirer of Midnight’s ample curves (an admiration sadly not returned) visibly drooled at the sight of her poured into her faux leather Catwoman suit. Phoebe wondered whether she ought to go and close his mouth for him; there was no telling what might fly in.