Chapter 12
Ben couldn’t miss the way Poppy’s gaze kept flicking up to the left. To her home. She’d done it every few seconds or so since they’d turned into the road they’d grown up on. Her steps quickened the closer they got.
‘Hey.’ He grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, releasing it before she thought he was looking for a repeat of the previous night. ‘It’s okay. Whatever happens you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.’
She let out a shaky breath. ‘What would I do without you? You’re such a good friend. Always have been.’
Friend. The word that once lit up his world now dimmed it. He was tired of being friend-zoned. That, and he no longer accepted that was his place in Poppy’s world. Not after the night before. She may be willing to put those hot-as-hell kisses behind them, make out like the whole thing was a mojito-made mistake, say that they were better off as friends, that he was better off with Milly or someone like her, but he’d been there. He knew what he’d felt. And it hadn’t been him who’d gone in for the second kiss.
The way he saw it, there were two things holding them back. One was Poppy’s refusal to entertain the idea that love could be something wonderful. Something where people compromised, cheered each other on, and cherished each other.
The other thing holding them back? Himself. He needed to talk to Milly. Sure, they weren’t serious, and they weren’t exclusively dating each other, but she deserved more than a text, or an email, saying things weren’t working out. She deserved a clean break. A proper explanation. Because as nice as she was, and as much as he enjoyed her company, he only saw her as a friend.
Once he’d sorted things with Milly, he’d set about proving to Poppy that what they had was worth giving a chance.
‘Shit.’ Poppy clutched his bicep and brought them to a halt. ‘I just saw a very human-looking shape pass by the window upstairs. In the art studio.’ She scanned the road. ‘I can’t see her car. Maybe she’s moved?’
‘I’m pretty sure my parents would have mentioned if she’d moved. Maybe she’s just got a new car?’
‘Right. Yes. Absolutely.’ Poppy released her grip. ‘You go ahead. I’ll just…’ She ducked behind Ben.
‘Hide behind me?’ Ben couldn’t stop the smirk appearing on his face. It was the first time he’d ever seen Poppy unsure of herself. Nervous. Skittish, even. And she was all the cuter for it.
‘Fine. Yes. I’m hiding. Kind of. If she’s upstairs then I’ll still be in full view if she happens to look down and see me, but if we do it this way then I feel like you’re my bodyguard. You’ll protect me against anything awful.’ She gave him a meaningful look. ‘What are you waiting for? Start walking. The longer I’m out here the larger the danger grows. And if you give me grief later about my talk of marching up to the house I’ll find out where you live and stuff your bed full of unicorns.’
Ben held back a laugh as they proceeded to half-walk, half-scuttle the last few metres to their semi-detached homes. Ben paused when they reached the top of his parents’ stairs. Should he knock? He didn’t usually, but usually it was just him. No guest. No Poppy. And even Poppy had knocked when she’d come over to hang out when they were younger. There was a solemnity about the property that told you decorum was of the utmost importance. But it was his home… so surely he could barge in with Poppy in tow…
‘Stop dithering,’ Poppy hissed, while casting a furtive eye upwards. ‘It’s your home. Get in there!’
Poppy nudged him forward just as the door opened. The tip of his toe caught on the threshold and he found himself falling forwards. He braced himself for impact – the hard floorboards being merciless on bare knees – but instead two arms hooked under his armpits and pulled him backwards.
He regained his balance, righted himself and spun round. ‘Poppy. When did you get so strong? And quick?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘I did a little voluntary surf lifesaving when I lived on the Gold Coast in Aussie. I guess the training came in handy. Would’ve been a little easier on the arms if you’d tripped over in water though. Can you do that the next time you need saving?’
‘If it pleases you, of course. Although you did push me so I’m not sure why my falling is my fault.’
‘My fault?’ Poppy released him, her hands flying upward in indignation. ‘All I did was give you a nudge. I can’t believe you would put this on me. It’s no different from the time you and I decided to bunk school and—’
‘Are you two going to fight all night? Will I have to seat you at opposite ends of the table like I did when you were younger?’
Ben looked round to see his mum holding the door open for them, eyebrows raised, an amused glint in her eyes. ‘Sorry, Mum. No need to separate us. We’re fine. Same as always.’
‘That’s good, dear. Now what was the rush?’ Pam’s gaze flicked between the two of them.
‘Just excited to eat, Mrs Evans. I mean, Pam.’ Poppy side-stepped past Ben and leaned in to give Pam a kiss on the cheek. ‘I haven’t had a good meal since I’ve been back and I’ve missed your cooking. I’m half-hoping for that delicious slow-roasted pork belly you used to make.’
‘Sorry, Poppy. Not today, I’m afraid. It’s a bit hot for slow-roasting anything. We were thinking of making use of the barbecue since it’s such a nice evening. I picked up some beautiful eye fillet steaks from the butcher, and I’ve prepared a garden salad, and a potato salad to go with it.’ Pam crooked her finger and indicated to Poppy to move closer. ‘And for dessert I’ve made that tropical cheesecake I know you like so much,’ she said in a stage whisper.
Ben waited for Poppy to jump up and down, clap her hands in joy, spin around. Something. Instead her face had paled, and she looked a touch unsteady on her feet.
‘Poppy, are you okay?’
It seemed his mother had noticed as well.
Poppy managed a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’m fine, Pam. Honestly. Must be hotter out there than I realised. A barbecue sounds great. Steaks, perfect. And I can’t believe you still remember that my favourite dessert is tropical cheesecake.’
Pam patted Poppy on the cheek. ‘You’re not an easy person to forget, Poppy. That and you used to beg me to make it at least once a week. Even in the depths of winter. Why don’t you two head out back? I’ll have Robert bring out some drinks and I’ll grab the steaks from the fridge.’
Ben grasped Poppy’s forearm as she was about to follow her mother. ‘Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.’
‘I didn’t expect to be sitting outside. We used to always eat inside. And outside she might see me.’
Ben turned to face Poppy and took her hands in his. ‘You’ll be fine, Poppy. You always are. Ask yourself, what’s the worst that can happen?’
Poppy fixed her stare on the cream wall behind him that held a portrait of him, his mother and his father. His father and mother with their shoulders back, eyes filled with pride, huge smiles on their faces. Ben sat between them wearing graduation garb, his future a solid and smooth path in front of him. Until he’d upended it by following his dream of opening a gourmet tea shop. Would his father ever forgive him? Would a new family portrait one day grace that spot? One of them all standing outside the shop, looking every bit as happy to be there as they had been at his graduation? He gave himself a mental shake. There was no point in worrying about that which he could not control, just as there was no point in Poppy worrying about her mother seeing her. She could no more control her reaction to Poppy being back home than he could control his father’s reaction to his new path.
‘The worst that could happen is that she sees me. I see that she sees me. And she then does nothing about it. She doesn’t come to say “hello”. She doesn’t acknowledge my presence.’ Poppy’s gaze left the portrait and returned to him. ‘And that I can handle. I handled it long enough growing up.’
‘There you go. See? You’ll be fine. Now let’s head outside before my father takes over the barbecue and
turns the steaks to rubber.’
Poppy tugged at her braid, fresh creases of worry appearing on her forehead. ‘Another thing to fret about. Your father. He used to disapprove of me when I was young; now that I’m in business with you I’ll have levelled up to career-ending son-stealer. On the plus side, he’ll be too busy despising me to give you any grief.’
‘We’ll see. We’ll just have to have each other’s backs.’ Ben offered his arm to Poppy.
‘Just like always.’ She hooked her arm though his without hesitation, and they made their way down the hall, through the kitchen and into the backyard, where long shadows had begun to form as the sun began its descent towards the horizon.
Ben settled into the dark grey wicker dining chair and grabbed a crisp from the bowl his mother had set out.
‘New outdoor dining set. Very nice.’ Poppy sat beside Ben, her back turned to the two houses. ‘I won’t miss the wooden one. The amount of splinters I got from it.’ She grimaced at the memory.
‘You only got splinters because you used to wiggle your bum back and forth like an excited puppy whenever Mum brought us out glasses of lemonade as a treat instead of the usual milk or water. If you’d sat still you’d have been fine.’ Ben grinned, remembering the chaos that would ensue post-splinter-in-bum. ‘But then we’d never have been treated to the Poppy-arse-dance.’
‘The what?’ Poppy frowned. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.
‘You know… You used to leap up, hop from foot to foot, twist your head as far as it would go and then rush inside to the bathroom to try and get the splinter out. Then you’d call for Mum and she’d help you.’
‘God. I’d forgotten. Actually, more like I’d blocked it out.’ Poppy crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands on her lap. ‘Well, I promise to keep my happy lemonade wriggling to myself tonight.’
‘Whose bum is wriggling? Not Poppy’s? I’d hoped she’d have grown out of that.’
Ben stood to help his father as he attempted to juggle a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of wine, and a handful of glasses. ‘Evening, Dad. How are you?’
‘Fine, thank you.’ Robert set the wine down on the table and settled into a chair opposite Ben. No handshake. No pat on the back. Nothing. ‘How are you?’
Ben forced a smile to his face, hoping it hid the stranglehold of hurt on his heart. So much for not worrying about his father’s behaviour. Still, he could be the bigger person so when, or if, this time passed there would still be a relationship to repair. ‘I’m good, Dad. Busy. The shop’s doing well. Better than projected.’
His father stood without comment, like he’d not heard a word Ben had said. Or hadn’t wanted to. ‘Good weather for a barbecue. It’s nice to see summer living up to its name.’ Robert turned to the barbecue, pulled up the hood and grabbed the tongs hanging off the hook.
Poppy nudged Ben’s ankle under the table to get his attention.
‘Is he for real?’ she mouthed.
Ben shrugged. His stomach coiled with tension. His appetite was shrinking by the second. Why did he have a feeling dinner was going to be a long and dismal affair – for both of them.
‘Robert, get your hands off those tongs.’ Pam mock-growled as she stepped outside, a plate of steaks in hand.
Robert dropped the tongs on the barbecue’s side-table and backed away with a flourish. ‘I was just trying to be of help.’
‘Your idea of helping is taking a good cut of meat and ensuring it’s inedible. Stay away.’ Pam wagged a finger of warning. ‘Go sit with your son. Be sociable.’ There was no mistaking her tone. Be nice to your son, or else…
Robert settled himself back in his chair, grabbed the wine bottle, busied himself opening it, then poured himself a glass without offering either one of them a drink.
His father was the epitome of manners, of doing things ‘the right way’. If he wasn’t offering them a glass of wine, he wasn’t just mad, he was fuming. And Ben would put good money on the fact the anger came from a place of deep hurt. And it was all his fault.
His old job had been a grind. One he’d stuck with because he wanted to please his parents, and to be fair the money allowed him a certain lifestyle. But ultimately he didn’t want to let them down. Growing up he’d been acutely aware of the ideals drummed into him by his parents: work hard; behave; be the best. And he’d done exactly that. Even the times Poppy had led him astray hadn’t caused his father to react like this.
For the first time since he’d opened Steep, Ben wasn’t sure his passion was worth the pain of losing the relationship he had with his dad. Perhaps there was a way he could make both work? It wouldn’t be hard to go back into property law, to find someone to run Steep…
The coils circling his gut contracted further, reminding him that by making things right with his father he’d be making his life wrong, again.
So this is what the great ‘they’ meant by being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Poppy grabbed the wine bottle and two glasses, poured the pale-gold sauvignon blanc, then passed Ben a glass. ‘You must be thirsty too, Ben. Bottoms up.’ She lifted her glass towards him, pointedly ignoring his father, making it clear she found his behaviour rude.
Ben clinked glasses with Poppy and sent her a silent thank you. She was on his side. They were a team. And if she hadn’t swept him up in her dream of opening her unicorn gift shop he’d never have discovered how happy he could be.
If only his father could see that. Be good with it.
‘So, Mr Evans. How’s the law life going?’ Poppy ran her finger through the condensation that had settled on the glass. Her tone was polite, but Ben caught a certain sharpness, one that told him she was up to something.
Don’t make things worse, Pops, he prayed.
‘Fine, thank you. Busy. There’s no lack of security in law. Always work to do.’
Ben gritted his teeth. Could his dad be any more pointed?
‘And how are things with you, Poppy?’
‘Well, Mr Evans. Like Ben said, things are busy at the shop.’
Ben hid a grin behind a cough. He knew what Poppy was up to. She was going to run defence. Make things good. Show his father that their business wasn’t a daft idea. And she knew that by asking him how he was that he would automatically do the polite thing and return the question.
Poppy took a sip of the wine. ‘Really busy, actually. When Ben and I opened Sparkle & Steep we thought it would take a few months to get things going. Maybe even years before we turned a profit, but from the looks of the books we’re already not only breaking even, but there’s extra. Not enough for a first-class ticket to the other side of the world, granted, but enough that I won’t have to curb my chocolate habit anytime soon.’
Robert crossed his legs, his arms falling on either side of the chair, his grip on the ends loose. Light. Ben knew that stance. That look. While appearing casual to the average eye, Ben knew it meant his father had found an angle that could be exploited to his own ends. ‘And how were your travels, Poppy? Do you miss traipsing around the world? Any plans to take off again?’
Light and amused laughter spilled from Poppy. ‘Mr Evans, you are a card. I’m not going anywhere. Who would run my side of the business? Not Ben. With the way Steep has taken off he doesn’t have the time. And as much as my worker, Joe, is good at his job, I’m not ready to entrust him with my livelihood. Besides, I love what I’m doing. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’
‘Indeed.’ Robert’s jaw shifted to the left, to the right, then settled in the middle. Tight. Unforgiving. ‘Though you say there’s nowhere else you’d rather be, you’ve left abruptly before. Who’s to say you wouldn’t do it again?’
‘She wouldn’t.’ Ben jumped in, tiring of his father’s rudeness. He knew Poppy could easily defend herself, but it was time his father saw that his son wasn’t a carbon copy of him, that he was his own man. ‘If you’d bothered to visit, Dad, you’d have seen the work Poppy�
��s put into her business. This isn’t some school project. Or some flight of fancy. This is her life. She’s not just going to abandon it. And neither am I.’
Uncomfortable silence, thick and tense, enveloped the table. Ben caught the worried glance his mother threw in his direction. So much for a nice family dinner. He’d all but declared war by going up against his father. Still, he wasn’t going to say sorry. He’d spent his life doing what was right, trying to please. It was time he stood up for the things – the people – he believed in. It was time he stood up for himself.
He met his father’s steely gaze across the table. Refused to flinch. An apology was needed, but it wasn’t coming from him.
Poppy shifted in her seat, then made to get up. ‘Look, I feel like things might need to be said… you lot need to chat… so… I’ll just… um… go?’
‘Stay, Poppy.’ He placed his hand on hers. ‘We’re here to have dinner. Mum’s put in a massive effort, and I refuse to let it go to waste.’
Poppy sank back into the chair, her eyes fixed on the back door and her bag that she’d grabbed as she’d made to leave still in hand.
‘The thing is, Dad, Steep satisfies me on a level that law never did. When I was at the practice I always felt people came to me grudgingly. No one wants to see a lawyer, it’s just something you have to do – whether you like it or not. But people love seeing me now. They enjoy discovering new tea, trying new flavours. Branching out. And I’d like to think my baking rivals Mum’s and is, in some way, a way of continuing on the legacy of our family.’
‘Until you give me grandchildren…’ Pam shot Ben a warm smile, which Ben returned, grateful she wasn’t backing his father as she always had done in the past. It wasn’t in his mum’s nature to rock the boat, but by keeping out of this conversation she was staging her own protest.
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 14
