I’m a knob.
He shoved the phone in his pocket, went back to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. She could be here for some time and a strong cup of black tea would keep his eyelids from drooping.
The phone pinged again.
Actually, I’m fond of knobs. I wouldn’t want to insult them. I’m an idiot.
Ben rolled his eyes. Of course Poppy was going for the charm offensive. It had worked in the past, she’d naturally think it would work now. He flipped the phone onto its face. If he couldn’t see her messages he wouldn’t be tempted to look at them, to begin to empathise with her… to forgive her.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
He tipped the floating white detritus of the meringue down the sink, then turned on the hot tap, squirted washing up liquid into the bowl and began cleaning it, readying it for his third meringue attempt of the evening.
The scrubbing of plastic on metal combined with the rush of running water kept the pings from infiltrating his conscience. He turned off the water, picked up a tea towel and began drying the bowl.
Ping.
Ping.
How had she not given up by now? Ben reached over and muted the phone. Poppy was obviously too embarrassed to talk to him in person so he was safe to get back to the task at hand. Placing the clean mixing bowl on the bench he cracked open the first egg, tipping the runny mixture from egg-half to egg-half, letting the white drop into the bowl, praying the yolk wouldn’t snag on a sharp edge and break.
Ben breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the white gave up its grip on the shell. One down. Two to go.
He cracked the second egg and began separating, watching in satisfaction as the white plopped cleanly into the bowl.
‘You know there’s a far easier way to do that.’
Ben glanced up to see Poppy hovering by the door.
‘Your yolk’s broken.’
Ben looked down. ‘Shit.’ The globular whites were strewn with bright orange yolk. Another batch ruined. God, it was like the meringue was a symbol for his day. One big mess. ‘Couldn’t you have waited until I was done?’ He dropped down into a squat and hunted in the cupboard for a container. Unlike the over-whipped meringues, the eggs could be used in other baking.
‘No. I couldn’t wait. You’re ignoring me.’ Poppy’s feet inched closer.
Finding a container, Ben straightened up, poured the eggs in, then sealed it up. Each action purposefully slow, knowing it would drive Poppy crazy. She didn’t like being ignored? Well, it was time she got a taste of her own medicine. He’d been ignored by her for twelve years. She could survive thirty seconds.
He dropped the bowl back in the sink and made to grab the washing up liquid for the third time that evening, except Poppy whipped it away before he could take hold of it.
‘No. Don’t. I’ll do it. It’s the least I can do since I caused you to stuff up the eggs.’ She shooed him away from the sink and began to wash the bowl. ‘What you want to do is crack the egg, then open it into your cupped hand, let the white drip through then set the yolk aside. Or, if there’s a spare plastic bottle around, you crack the egg into a ramekin then you take the bottle, squeeze it, pop the rim by the egg yolk then release the bottle and it sucks it up, like magic. Here you go.’ She passed the bowl to Ben for drying. ‘Takes a bit of practice to get it right, though. I prefer the hand method.’
She ran her damp hands over her shorts and stepped back, giving Ben space to start again.
Taking another egg, he cracked it and began separating it from shell to shell.
‘Or you could ignore me and do it the way you want.’ Poppy folded her arms over her chest. The tap-tap-tap of her toe on the floor filled the air.
Eggs successfully separated, Ben attached the bowl to the mixer and set it beating. The mechanical whirring blocking any attempts at conversation. Ignoring Poppy’s growing glare of impatience, he added sugar, bit by bit, to the eggs, until he had a perfect glossy meringue.
He flicked off the machine and began spooning the mixture into a piping bag.
‘Thank God that’s done. Honestly. How can we talk if there’s all that noise going on?’ Poppy pushed the portable kitchen island that held the prepared tarts towards Ben.
Bending over, avoiding eye contact, he began to pipe swirls of meringue onto the glistening, tangy lemon curd.
‘If I didn’t know you better, Ben, I’d think you were ignoring me on purpose. But I know you wouldn’t do that. Even after… everything.’
Ben squeezed the piping bag in frustration, sending a misshapen splodge onto the tart. He set the bag down and faced Poppy. ‘What do we have to talk about, Poppy? What’s got you so impatient that I have to down tools and forget about my business? Because I don’t see why I should. You accused me of being a people pleaser all my life, and you were right. I was, on the whole. Now I don’t have to be, because the only person left to please is leaving. And, after the way she’s behaved, I feel no need to do anything to make her happy anymore. And you know what? It’s nice to have relief from that particular pressure.’ Ben picked up the piping bag, finished off the tarts and placed them in the oven.
‘Fine. If that’s how you feel. Before I go though…’
His phone was thrust before his eyes. The screen lit up with message after message.
‘Read your phone.’
Taking the phone from Poppy, he keyed in his password, opened up his messages, slid left on Poppy’s name and the many messages, then turning the mobile round he hit the delete button. ‘Don’t want to.’
Poppy’s eyes narrowed as nostrils flared. ‘It took me ages to think of those texts. They were important.’
‘If they were that important you wouldn’t have sent them. You’d have said them. To my face.’ Ben’s heart thumped against his chest in a drumbeat of irritation and frustration. He glanced over at the kettle, where steam drifted up towards the ceiling. Tea. He needed something nice and calming. Something that would soothe his stretched nerves. He strode past Poppy and into the shop to snip off some mint leaves. Footsteps echoing behind him telling him Poppy was on his tail.
‘I just thought it would be easier if you read what I was thinking. What I was feeling. I was afraid if I tried to say what I want to say I’d make a mess of it. Make more of a mess.’
He turned to see Poppy was no longer following him, but was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes. It was like being transported back in time. Seeing Poppy sitting on his bed, holding Mr Flumpkins, her face pale and tired, sad, refusing to answer his questions. Refusing to tell him why her eyes were rimmed in red. Why her shoulders were hunched. Why her sparkle had disappeared.
Bugger the tea. The only thing that was going to settle his nerves, the only way he was ever going to move forward with his life in a meaningful way, was to sort things out with Poppy once and for all.
***
Poppy’s heart, her soul, wilted in relief as Ben settled himself on the floor, crossing his legs, mirroring her. The tension in his jaw had eased. The harsh light in his eyes had softened. And his shoulders no longer looked like they were permanently attached to the sides of his neck.
‘You know the good thing about messes, Poppy?’ Ben placed his hands on his knees, his back straight, proud. ‘You can tidy them up.’
‘Says the guy who keeps his side of the business pristine. Whose house would shake on its foundations if it saw a hint of dust.’ Poppy gritted her teeth, tried to find the courage to say the words she’d been able to write in text form.
‘There were crumbs in my bed this morning, remember? And my house seems stable as ever. So, what was in that string of messages you sent me?’
Poppy hugged herself tighter. No matter what happened next she had her unicorns. She had a shop. One that was showing all the signs of being successful. If things didn’t work out with Ben, she could leave him be, and set up elsewhere. She would survive, as she had her entire life.
She thought back to the tentative strands of reconnection she’d shared with her mother earlier. The jittery pit-pat of her heart settled. She wouldn’t just survive. She would be fine. Maybe not better than fine anytime soon, but fine was a good starting place.
‘I’m sorry feels like a good place to start.’ Poppy locked eyes with Ben. He had to see what she was saying was coming from the heart. ‘And I am. For so much. I shouldn’t have left. Not just earlier today, but all those years ago. Not the way I did.’
‘So, you’re saying you still might have gone?’ There was no censure in his words, just curiosity.
Poppy shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. I couldn’t have stayed at home for much longer. And when you said what you said the night I left, I panicked. Freaked. Felt I had to go.’
‘What I said?’ Ben’s head angled in confusion, his forehead wrinkling into a frown. ‘What do I have anything to do with it?’
Keep going, Poppy. You’ve got this. ‘I didn’t tell you the entire story about the night I left. I didn’t tell you that…’ Poppy’s mouth felt like it had been lined with moisture-sucking soft toy fur. ‘I didn’t tell you that before I saw my mother, you and I had a conversation. Except it wasn’t really a conversation. It was three words. And you said them. And I wasn’t ready to hear them. I was nowhere near ready to say them back, even if I knew deep down I felt them.’ Poppy paused, waiting for the penny to drop. Waited some more. Ben’s expression remained neutral, albeit with a narrowing of the eyes. How could he not say anything? She’d declared that she loved him. That she wanted to be with him. Except… she hadn’t. And why would he care when loving her meant every chance that she’d up and leave if things got tough? ‘I’m buggering this up,’ she muttered to herself.
‘No. You’re not. I’m just…’ Ben raked his hand through his hair, then cupped the back of his neck. ‘I don’t know that I understand what you’re saying. I said something? Three words…’ Recognition dawned in his widening eyes. ‘Oh. Oh my God. I said… I don’t remember. I mean, I was well toasted that night. I had no idea. I feel like I should say I’m sorry. I mean, things might have been so different if I hadn’t said what I’d said. I can only imagine the pressure it put on you, especially on top of what your mother said…’
‘Don’t say you’re sorry, Ben. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. As for things being different had you not said what you said… perhaps. But better?’ Poppy slowly shook her head. ‘I don’t know about that. That space, that time away, was good for me. It gave me time to find out what I could do. What I was capable of. How strong I was. Maybe had I not gone away you’d have discovered I didn’t fit into your very grown-up adult life.’
‘Impossible. We were meant to be friends from the moment you poked your head through the hedge. I don’t believe anything could have changed that.’
She dragged her gaze up from the floor to see Ben smiling, as wide and open and beautiful as his heart. ‘There’s one more thing I have to tell you. Something you need to know.’ Poppy mashed her lips together, squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to get the conversation over and done with. ‘The thing is, the whole time I was away, I missed you. It didn’t matter where I was, or who I was with, there was this Ben-shaped hole missing from my life. I’d hoped travelling to the ends of the earth, throwing myself into all sorts of new situations, would help me fill that space. Lord knows I used the distance to convince myself that had I stayed we’d have ended up hating each other. Resenting each other. That you’d one day see why my mother didn’t love me, and then you too would push me away.’ Poppy fiddled with the charms on her bracelet. Touchstones for the people, the places, she’d left. ‘Time didn’t fill the hole. Or space. Then one day – that day the picture was taken of me on the rocks in Kaikoura – I knew it was time to come home. Not just to start my business, but to return to you. And when I saw you at the airport in your fancy pants and shirt, I knew returning was the best thing I could have done. I may have been raised here in Muswell Hill, but you, Ben, are my home.’
‘I see.’ Ben’s hand went to his chin, stroked it thoughtfully. ‘I can wear that getup to work, if it means that much to you.’
So that was it. He was happy to keep her on as a business partner, but nothing more, and he was being light-hearted about it in order to let her down easy. After what she’d put him through she couldn’t blame him.
Ben stretched his arms behind him and propped himself up on the palms of his hand. ‘So, what was in those messages? You just told me a decent-sized story, those text notifications were coming far too thick and fast to be that.’
‘Oh, you don’t want to know what was in those messages.’ Horror chilled Poppy’s heart. It was one thing for Ben to read them if she thought there was a chance they would get back together. But to relay them to Ben the Friend? Ben the Colleague? Nope. No way were those words being spoken out loud.
‘Actually, Poppy, I kind of do want to know what’s in those messages. I’m sure I could have one of my tech-savvy friends recover the texts for me if you’re not comfortable sharing…’
God, either way she was doomed to die of embarrassment. Better to get it over and done.
‘Earth, feel free to swallow me whole,’ muttered Poppy as she reached up and grabbed her mobile from the counter behind her. ‘Fine. But you need to know I wrote this in the heat of the moment, and I don’t expect you to think anything or feel anything or even care. In fact…’ She scrolled through the messages. ‘Looking at these I wish I’d perhaps censored myself a little. Things are going to get awkward. Are you ready for that?’
Ben flicked her the thumbs up. ‘Go for it.’
Poppy poked her tongue out, then cleared her throat. ‘Here goes nothing.’
Ben, I’m sorry.
And I love you.
More than all the unicorns in my shop.
In the world.
I’m sorry.
I said that already, but it can’t be said enough.
Because I really am sorry.
I ran because I was afraid.
Afraid you’d get bored of me.
Or that things would change between us.
And we wouldn’t be ‘us’ anymore.
But I’m a dick.
Stop smiling.
Poppy glanced up to see Ben was indeed doing as she thought he’d do. It seemed she’d underestimated his reaction. His smile was a toothy grin, and his shoulders were shaking. She suppressed her own smile and returned her attention to the screen.
But I can’t run anymore.
I can’t let my fears stop me from finding out what might be.
Because what I know in here…
(I’m tapping my heart right now)
… Is that I love you.
I’ve always loved you.
And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.
And even if you don’t love me back.
That’s okay.
Because now I know I can love.
And that I want to love.
And if I love one person in my life.
I’m glad it’s you.
Thank you for loving me, Ben.
Now stop ignoring me already.
Poppy set her phone down. Her heart rate had ratcheted up, but the roiling in her stomach had stilled. She swallowed hard, surprised to find no fear-filled lump was blocking the words. ‘It’s true, Ben. I love you. I love you more than anything.’ She bum-shuffled her way towards Ben until their knees were touching.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Ben reached out and cupped Poppy’s cheek. She leaned into his strong, sure touch.
‘You don’t have to say anything. I know I’ve been up and down like a yo-yo. I know that you might need time. I’m not going anywhere – if you don’t want me to, that is. And if you decide I’m too much hard work then that’s okay too. We had friendship first, and I’m happy with that. Mostly.’ Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘I mean I will be happy with that if I have to be. God, I really am useless at this love thing.’
‘I think you’re doing it rather wonderfully, actually.’ Ben ran his thumb over her lips, across her cheek. ‘I’m glad you want to stay on at the shop, but I feel we need to set up some new rules.’
‘Ugh,’ Poppy groaned. ‘More rules. I’m so over rules.’
‘You might like these ones. And there’s only two. I think you can handle that.’ Ben sat back, lifted his fist in the air and raised his thumb. ‘First rule. You can’t up and leave this shop. And I can’t either. If for whatever reason one of us needs to exit the business we need to consult each other, chat it through, and if leaving is on the cards then it needs to be timely, not done in a rush.’
‘No leaving in a hurry. Right.’ Poppy nodded. ‘What’s the next rule?’
Ben raised his index finger. ‘You’ll let me love you. You see I think it’s only fair that if you’re going to be mooning around the shop loving me, that I can do the same.’
‘Hmm.’ Poppy placed her finger to her chin and cast her gaze to the ceiling. ‘Tough rule. But I can live with it. I don’t think we’re going to need to worry about the first rule though.’
‘Oh really? And why’s that?’
Poppy took Ben’s hands in hers. ‘Because I’m going to be too busy loving you to ever think about leaving.’
‘So, we have a deal?’
‘Not quite. We need to make this love thing we’ve got going on official. A handshake won’t do.’ Poppy glanced round at the jewellery stand she had set up on the counter. She pushed herself up and sorted through the bracelets and necklaces, rings and earrings she had hanging off the stand. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t put your charm on with my others. Actually…’ She stopped rummaging around and unhooked the heavy bracelet from her wrist, then placed it on the counter. ‘That’s better. You see that bracelet was filled with charms representing the past. Ah, here it is!’ Poppy pulled a delicate silver link chain off the rack and fingered the tiny heart that linked the bracelet’s ends together. She pulled the unicorn charm from her pocket. ‘I didn’t want your charm to be part of that. I don’t want you to be the past. I want your charm, I want you, to represent the fu—’ Poppy sniffed the air, an acrid waft filled her nose. ‘Erm… what’s burning?’
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 22
