Apart from Rita’s, no, her shop, there was the Greasy Spoon caff, a small stationer’s-cum-newsagent’s, a shoe shop selling sensible sandals and cosy slippers, a toy shop, a gift-type shop selling postcards and collectibles of the rather ugly plaster variety, a greengrocer’s and a butcher’s.
And, of course, the Toad in the Hole pub.
The Toad had, for centuries, been the Kingston Arms Hotel, coaching inn and hostelry, until becoming very rundown in the 1970s. It had mouldered for quite some time before being bought by an up-and-coming brewery chain. As it was a listed building, outside the ancient architecture remained the same as it had ever been, but now alienated most of the village’s beer ’n’ a bag of crisps pub-goers by incon -gruously housing a very minimalist glass, chrome and spotlit gastro bar. The Toad currently provided Kingston Dapple’s only nightlife.
Unless, Frankie thought vaguely, you counted the various weekend shindigs in the village hall. Which very few rational people ever did.
So, the only other additions to the market square were the space where Brian parked his kebab van every evening, after doing his rounds of the villages, from ‘ten ’til midnight depending on the weather and the number of munchy-headed revellers staggering from the Toad’, and Ray Valentine’s closed-down flower stall.
There was nothing out there, especially on a wet and windy freezing cold November day, Frankie thought, likely to warrant Lilly’s reaction. Then again, she thought as she negotiated the heaps of second-hand clothes to reach the door, Lilly was always a little bit OTT.
‘Frankie!’ Lilly urged again. ‘Quick!’
‘What?’ Frankie peered over Lilly’s shoulder. ‘What am I looking at? Where?’
‘There!’ Lilly, wide-eyed, jabbed a midnight-blue sparkly talon across the square.
Frankie peered some more. A few hardy souls, heads down against the storm, were attempting to fight their way into the shops, but apart from them, she could see nothing.
‘Look!’ Lilly grabbed her arm. ‘Him! Just opening up Ray’s flower place … Wow! What a body! What a face! Isn’t he just the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen? Isn’t he just sooo fit? I love all that layered hair and those cheekbones and I bet he’s got just a hint of stubble. Sooo sexy. He’s … he’s … ’ She furrowed her brow and then beamed. ‘Oooh, he’s just totally Beckhamesque!’
Chapter Four
Frankie laughed. The description was absolutely perfect. Despite the weather, the very attractive man darting in and out of the flower shack’s open door, managed to look elegant and golden and achingly cool. Dressed in jeans and boots and a battered leather jacket with the collar turned up, and with his sun-bleached streaky hair feathering in the wind, he was certainly extremely eye-catching.
‘Wonder who he is?’ Lilly pressed her nose against the glass. ‘Any ideas? Is he the one taking over from Ray? Nephew or something, you said, didn’t you? Oh, wow, if he is, how fab would that be?’
‘Well, yes it would be, but no, I don’t think he can possibly be Dexter Valentine,’ Frankie said. ‘That bloke’s probably someone from the council making sure Ray’s stall hasn’t been vandalised.’
‘Shame.’ Lilly pressed even closer to the door. ‘Because he’d be just lovely to look at every day – even for a man-hater like you – wouldn’t he?’
‘I’m not a man-hater,’ Frankie said quickly. ‘I’m just a bit more picky than you are. And I’m sure he isn’t Ray’s nephew, because I sort of gathered from Rita that he was a Ray looka-like, only younger and a lot less pleasant. I’m guessing Dexter Valentine, when and if, he ever turns up, will be a fat slob with a beer gut and a builder’s bum – in fact, a whole lot less attractive than that.’
‘I know, you said.’ Lilly gazed dreamily across the square. ‘So it can’t be him, can it? Sod it – because he is sooo hot. Maybe he is from the council then. Still, whoever he is, I’m in love.’
‘Why aren’t I surprised? Poor bloke won’t stand a chance,’ Frankie laughed, watching him standing outside the flower stall shack now in the storm, looking rather bemusedly at the rain bouncing relentlessly off the empty wooden decking tiers. ‘But I wonder who he is? And what on earth does he think he’s doing over there?’
‘I’ll go and ask,’ Lilly said, tugging open the door and allowing the bitter wind and a lot of very wet leaves billow into the shop.
‘Lill, noooo!’ Frankie groaned.
Too late. Lilly, slipping and slithering across the cobbles in her ridiculous heels, had already gone.
Frankie grinned to herself. No doubt the Beckhamesque beauty – if he was available, or even if he wasn’t, yet – would soon be a regular feature of their shared house, until Lilly fell in love with someone else.
Sometimes Frankie wished she had Lilly’s happy equanimity towards relationships. But then, Lilly had never been in love had she? Not really, really in love. And that was the problem: once you’d been hopelessly, besottedly, heart and soul, once and for ever, in love, it became very hard to settle for anything less.
As she well knew.
She watched in amusement as Lilly, her blonde spikes seemingly wind and rain resistant, bounced up to the golden David lookalike and smiled and started chatting, in typical Lilly fashion, with both her hands and her mouth.
Now he was laughing. And talking back. And Lilly was waving extravagantly towards the shop, and, oh Lordy, they were coming over …
The door flew open again, with yet another flurry of freezing wind, slashing rain and wet leaves.
‘It’s him!’ Lilly beamed, ushering the Beckhamesque beauty into the shop. ‘He is Dexter Valentine! How amazing is that?’
Amazing, Frankie thought, blinking hard at Dexter Valentine who, despite being wet and windswept, managed to look even more gorgeous close to than he’d been from a distance. Totally amazing …
In fact, so devastatingly amazing that if she wasn’t careful she’d be joining Lilly in openly drooling.
How wrong had Rita got that then? And if she’d been wrong about Dexter’s physical appearance, maybe she’d been wrong about the rest too? Maybe Dexter Valentine was hardworking and decent and …
Quickly remembering her manners, she stopped staring and smiled in what she hoped was a warm and friendly but definitely disinterested way. ‘Hi, then. Welcome to the entrepreneurial hub of Kingston Dapple. I’m Frankie Meredith, and no doubt Lilly has already introduced herself.’
‘She has.’ Dexter nodded, his tawny eyes laughing, and holding out his hand. ‘Great to meet you.’
They shook hands. The first touch of flesh on flesh was tantalisingly electric. Dexter looked far more at ease with it than Frankie felt. His eyes were on a level with hers and she dropped her hand and looked away first.
‘Not the best weather to see your new business for the first time,’ Frankie said, trying to regain control, and immediately inwardly cursing herself for falling back on the weather as an opening gambit. She sounded like her gran. Damn it.
‘It’s not.’ Dexter brushed raindrops from the leather jacket. ‘But this –’ he cast a slow appraising glance round the shop, and an even slower and more appraising one over her and Lilly ‘– is pretty cool. And to think I was really dreading coming here. I thought Kingston Dapple was going to be the carbuncle on the boil from hell. Now –’ he grinned at them both ‘– I can’t thank Ray enough for running off with your ex-boss to re-enact Captain Corelli’s Mandolin or whatever it is he’s done as a result of his midlife crisis.’
Despite herself, Frankie giggled. After all, it was pretty close to what she’d thought herself about Rita and Ray’s romantic adventure, wasn’t it?
And, oops, Dexter was not just a total havoc-maker and utterly irresistible, but he also clearly had a sense of humour. It was an extremely heady combination.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Lilly said happily, swaying off into the kitchen. ‘I told Dexter you’d be surprised it was him. I told him you said he was a lazy fat thug.’
Fra
nkie groaned.
‘She did,’ Dexter confirmed cheerfully. ‘I was very hurt.’
‘Sorry,’ Frankie muttered, still trying not to stare too much at the streaky-haired, tawny-eyed gorgeousness. ‘It’s just that you didn’t come with a very good build-up.’
‘Hardly surprising,’ Dexter said easily. ‘I’ve been a huge disappointment to the family. Turning me into Berkshire’s answer to Alan Titchmarsh is the last hope of any salvation, apparently.’
‘Er … ’ Frankie was still horribly embarrassed. ‘So, do you like flowers? Um, horticulture? Is it your business?’
‘I know slightly less about flowers than I do about nucleonics.’
‘Right.’ Frankie pushed her hair behind her ears again. ‘So, why … ?’
‘Like I said –’ Dexter stared round the devastation of the frock shop ‘– it was Ray’s plan to rescue me from the bad place I’d, um, found myself in. And, to be honest, as I was out of work and needed to get out of Oxford – things had got a bit complicated – a ready-made business was too good an offer to turn down. Ray’s left me a healthy float and loads of info about suppliers and markets and things. I’m going to sort out the restocking tomorrow. I expect I’ll pick it up as I go along.’
Frankie thought that while Rita may have got the physical side of Dexter completely wrong, she’d obviously been spot on with the rest of it.
‘So, what about you?’ Dexter continued, seemingly unembarrassed by admitting he was both escaping from some misdemeanour in Oxford, and totally inept as a florist. ‘You seem to be in a bit of a muddle here.’
‘Understatement. I’m hoping to reopen by the weekend but at the moment I’m a bit overwhelmed.’
‘You’ve inherited all this from Ray’s Rita, haven’t you?’ Frankie nodded.
Dexter laughed. ‘He told me a lot about you.’
Oh, Lordy … Frankie took a deep breath. ‘Did he?’
‘He did.’ Dexter gave her the lazy appraising glance again. ‘And unlike my own pre-appearance hype, he seems to have got it dead right.’
Frankie was pretty sure she was blushing. How awful was that? She hadn’t blushed since she was a teenager.
Dexter nodded. ‘So, we’ve sort of been chucked into the same rocky boat, haven’t we? Thrown in at the deep end, in the middle of winter, with businesses we have very little idea about running and which could easily go belly up in the present economic climate.’
Great, Frankie thought. Look on the bright side. ‘Actually, I’m really excited about running this shop. I’ve got some great ideas and—’
‘Coffee!’ Lilly teetered back into the shop carrying a tray and plonked it down on the counter. ‘Now –’ she beamed at Dexter ‘– as you and Frankie are almost related by marriage you’ve obviously got loads to catch up on. Why don’t we all go to the Toad later and do the lovely getting-to-know-you thing?’
‘Not tonight, Lilly,’ Frankie said quickly, before Dexter could say anything. Anyone as gorgeous as Dexter was bound to be already heavily attached and certainly wouldn’t want either her or Lilly tagging along. ‘I’m going to be here all night sorting this lot out. I’ll need to rope in an entire army if I’m going to be open by the weekend.’
‘OK,’ Lilly said cheerfully, hauling herself up on to the counter, ‘that just leaves me and Dexter then.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Dexter used the sexy tawny eyes to their full advantage. ‘Especially as I only have a lonely bedsit to go back to.’
‘Really? In Kingston Dapple?’ Lilly asked ingenuously. ‘Me and Frankie live in Featherbed Lane. Are you anywhere close to that?’
‘No idea.’ Dexter wrapped his hands round his mug of coffee. ‘I don’t know anything about the village at all. Ray sorted out the bedsit for me – he’s been pretty good on all fronts. I just dumped my stuff there an hour ago before I came to have a look at the flower stall. It’s somewhere off the High Street. In Peep ’o’ Day Passage?’
‘Oh, lovely.’ Lilly nodded. ‘Really close. Well, nowhere in Kingston Dapple is very far from anywhere else so we’ll be practically neighbours. Are you sharing with anyone?’
Frankie, her mouth full of coffee, spluttered.
Dexter shook his head. ‘No. It’s just me and the lonely bedsit.’
‘Oh, great.’ Lilly grinned. ‘Another singleton! We can meet about eight in the Toad then if that’s OK with you?’
‘Fine with me.’ Dexter grinned back at her over the rim of his coffee mug. ‘But won’t you be needed here? If, um, Frankie has got to be up and running by the weekend I reckon she’s going to need all the help she can get.’
Lilly pouted. She still managed to look cute. ‘Oh, I didn’t think of that.’
Frankie shrugged. ‘Please don’t let me interfere with your social life. I’ll be fine. I’m going to call in as many favours as I can and get everyone here tonight to shift this lot.’
‘That’s OK then.’ Lilly beamed at her. ‘You can come over to the Toad and join us when you’re finished.’
Dexter didn’t look so sure. ‘Perhaps it would be much better if we all mucked in and helped?’
Frankie looked at him in surprise. Maybe he wasn’t all bad. Maybe the Oxford misdemeanours hadn’t been that awful.
‘Then,’ Dexter continued, ‘when we’ve got this place up to speed, we can all go for a drink in the pub, and maybe you two can help me get the flower stall sorted out tomorrow?’
Fat chance, Frankie thought, unless someone manages to make time stand still for a few weeks. But still, it was kind of him to offer to help her, and he was the most fabulous man she’d ever seen. Even more fabulous than …
‘Oh, shame. I’m back at work tomorrow,’ Lilly said, looking disappointed. ‘But Frankie would love to help you.’
‘I’m really not going to have the time.’
Lilly raised her perfectly threaded eyebrows. ‘Then you should make time. Jennifer says organisation is the only way to run a twenty-first century business. Jennifer says—’
‘I don’t care what Jennifer says.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘And unless Jennifer is going to magic up a whole makeover crew to get this shop sorted out then I don’t think she’s particularly relevant right now, do you?’
‘Touchy.’ Lilly giggled. ‘You need to chillax big time. But yeah, OK – I s’pose if we all get stuck in here tonight it could be fun.’
Fun, Frankie thought ruefully, it wasn’t going to be. Just an awful lot of hard work. And resulting in probably even more mess. However, with the addition of the totally devastating Dexter to stare at when things got really stressful she may just cope.
She reached for her mobile phone. ‘I’ll just make some calls then, and see who’s up for a bit of hefting and heaving.’
Chapter Five
Three hours later, as the cold November night closed in and the wind and rain howled ever more viciously outside, Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks was noisily filled with people.
Most of them, Frankie was sure, had only turned up out of rural nosiness to see what she intended to do with her unexpected inheritance. Her friends – and Lilly’s – she knew, were there mainly to try clothes on and see if there was anything worth having in amongst the jumble, but several stalwarts actually seemed keen to help.
‘Bit of fun, this, isn’t it?’ Brian from the kebab van grinned happily as, with steam rising from his soaking duffel coat, he helped a delighted Biff and Hedley Pippin with armfuls of clothing to load their charity shop van. ‘Like in the Blitz. All mucking in together.’
‘As you’re no more’n fifty-five you can’t possibly have known what it was like in the Blitz,’ Hedley Pippin said testily, tripping over a trailing violently coloured 1970s house-coat.
‘Ah, no. But it’s the spirit, see?’ Brian said merrily from behind a mountain of other people’s jeans. ‘All walks of life brought together by adversity.’
‘Hardly adversity – bugger it,’ Biff Pippin muttered as the pile of socks, gloves, scarves and ha
ts toppled from her hands. ‘This is like manna from heaven for us and it’s a wonderful stroke of luck for young Frankie – Rita leaving her the shop – and you too, Brian. You did OK, didn’t you?’
‘Ah.’ Brian’s pale-blue saucer eyes moistened. ‘I did that. Rita was always so kind to me. I had hopes of us tying the knot one day, but I knew she still carried a torch for fat Ray really. Mind, it’s really lovely being in that bungalow on my own and not having my miserable ma yelling at me morning, noon and night. You know, some mornings I can make me breakfast without even having to get dressed.’
‘Far too much information,’ Frankie giggled, straightening up from folding a heap of T-shirts.
‘I mean –’ Brian looked indignant ‘– while still in my ’jamas, gel. Ma would never let me have breakfast in my ’jamas. Always had to be properly washed and dressed afore eight in our house. And she used to check that I’d got clean hands. Treated me like a kid, she did. Never let me wear my ’jamas downstairs even when I was ill. Now sometimes I wear ’em all day on a Sunday. It’s lovely.’
Frankie smiled fondly after him as he and Hedley disappeared out into the storm to load the van again. Rita, bless her, had managed to spread an awful lot of happiness with her generous bequeathing.
Surprisingly, the disparate roped-in crowd seemed to be working quite well together. The shop was being rapidly denuded of everything that wasn’t needed. The good frocks – all of them – had been locked away in the small room that passed as a stock cupboard until such time as Frankie could sort them out. The rest of the stock was disappearing nicely.
Never Can Say Goodbye Page 4
