The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 3

  ‘Monty said it was ours, but if they’re willing to pay the full amount…’ Poppy let the sentence hang, her eyebrows raised.

  Damn it. She was right. And he wanted this place. Had done since he saw the advertisement. The exposed bricks, the polished floorboards, the simple but chic décor. It was perfect for a gourmet tea shop. ‘Fine. Pass me the pen.’ He took in a deep breath as he scrawled his name, and prayed he wasn’t making a mistake.

  ‘Fantastic.’ Poppy scooped the papers up from under him. ‘Monty. We’re all signed up.’ She passed the papers to their new landlord then half-danced, half-skipped her way to the front door, opened it and flapped her hands at the would-be tenants. ‘Sorry, shop’s gone. Good luck with your search. Have a fab day.’ She twisted round and rubbed her hands together. ‘Right. What are we waiting for? We’ve got two shops to open. Sophie? Joe? Consider this your last day of freedom. Be here tomorrow morning at nine sharp.’ Poppy turned her attention back to Ben. ‘As for you and I, let’s get the keys and you can take me to my new abode, and we’ll nut things out there over a bottle of something yummy. My treat.’

  ***

  ‘Well, this wasn’t what I expected.’ Ben did a slow three-sixty as he took in Poppy’s new home, tucked away on the top floor of a terraced house that had been converted into flats. The open-plan living and dining area was on the small side, with just enough room for the two-seater couch, coffee table and dining suite. Through an open door he spotted a bed, and another door, which presumably led to the en-suite. Despite its cosiness, it was surprisingly elegant, with white-washed wooden floors throughout, walls painted in a soft grey, and the architraves and skirtings in a fresh white. ‘It must be a relief that you were able to rent it furnished.’ Ben ran his hand over the cream knotted throw that lay over the soft chestnut-coloured leather couch.

  ‘Yeah, well, I knew I wanted to hit the ground running when I arrived, so it just made sense to find a place that was all set up for me.’ Poppy grabbed the bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d picked up on their way home and cracked the lid. ‘Screw tops. How did we ever live without them?’

  ‘My father calls them the work of the devil.’ Ben rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and shook his head.

  Poppy’s laughter filled the space, light and free. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ She sloshed the wine into two glasses and passed one to Ben. ‘So, what made you do such a U-turn? Upping and leaving a safe, secure job in order to start your own business venture? That’s not the Ben I grew up with. And, how is your father taking it?’

  Ben swirled the wine round, creating a miniature maelstrom. He inwardly grimaced; it was the perfect symbol for the current state of his life. ‘He’s taking it as well as you’d expect. Dad can’t get his head around me wanting something other than what he wants for me, if that makes sense. All these years and we’ve shared the law. Bonded over it. Now… I’m doing what makes me happy. Pursuing a career that fills me with joy in here…’ He tapped his heart. ‘A career that excites me. I think Dad sees that as a betrayal. Hell, I know he does.’ He took a sip of wine, hoping to wash away the grief that had created a knot in his throat. ‘We’re not really talking right now. Mum’s trying to mediate, but…’

  ‘She’s wasting her time?’ Poppy moved to the small dining table and pushed aside the curtains, allowing the late afternoon light to spill into the room.

  ‘Something like that.’ Ben pulled out the chair opposite Poppy, sat down and closed his eyes against the sun, glad for the moment to rest, relax… and try and figure out what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

  ‘“Why did I agree to this?” That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’

  Ben opened his eyes to see the tip of Poppy’s tongue peeking out between her lips, a teasing smile lifting her lips.

  ‘I’m not going to screw this up, Ben. I promise. Sparkle & Steep is going to be amazing.’ Poppy took a sip of her wine and set the glass down. ‘It’ll be as brilliant as this view. Look at the view, Ben. Isn’t it brilliant?’

  Ben turned to the window and saw a length of London sprawling before him, the cityscape rising tall and proud into a bright blue sky. ‘You’re right, it’s brilliant. God, I can’t believe you managed to find this place while living on the other side of the world.’

  ‘I’m lucky like that.’ Poppy grinned, her fingers rhythmically drumming on the table. ‘I’m also lucky to have you. You could have said no to me coming into the shop with you. You could have told me to stay in the car back there. You could have flat out refused to entertain the idea of going into business with me. But you didn’t. So, thank you.’

  ‘You’re not going to make me regret it, are you?’ Ben laid his hand over Poppy’s, stopping the incessant drumming.

  ‘No. I’m not. We’re going to prove your father wrong. More than that, we’re going to make him proud.’ Poppy lifted her glass. ‘To us. To Sparkle & Steep.’

  Ben raised his glass to meet hers, then took a sip as was tradition. Making his father proud. Poppy made it seem so easy. So simple. But how did you make a man proud when you’d walked away from a profession that, for the men in his family, being part of was every bit a tradition as sipping your drink after proposing a toast?

  ‘Stop stewing, Ben.’ Poppy sprung up, crossed the room to where she’d dumped her backpack, then unclipped and rifled through it, sending a tattered lump of greyness, with a faded rainbow mane, falling to the floor.

  Mr Flumpkins? Surely not? Had Poppy really carried the unicorn she’d found in Alexandra Park and – after being unable to find its owner – decided to adopt, around the world with her? She must’ve had him for twenty odd years by now.

  ‘Am I seeing things? Is that… Mr Flumpkins?’

  Poppy hugged the soft toy to her chest. ‘It is. In the cosy, cuddly fluffy-ish flesh.’

  Ben held his hand out, and Poppy passed the toy to him. ‘I can’t believe he’s still in one piece.’

  ‘Barely.’ Poppy continued rummaging through her bag. ‘He nearly lost his ear in an airport escalator a couple of years back. Fell out of my backpack, nearly got chomped, poor wee soul. Luckily a young girl snatched him up and gave him back before it was too late.’

  ‘I’m surprised she didn’t keep him for herself.’

  ‘Hardly. She told me I needed to chuck him and get myself a newer, prettier one. She liked the ice cream I bought her to say thanks well enough though. Ah, here’s what I’m looking for.’ She pulled out a shining, shimmering notebook, a pen threaded through its ringed spine. ‘We need to plan how we’re going to do this thing.’

  Ben placed Mr Flumpkins on the windowsill and straightened up. Yes, a plan was needed. Big time. With a plan in place he’d feel less like he’d been shoved into a whirlwind and spat out again.

  ‘So…’ Poppy slid into the chair, opened the notebook and wrote the name she’d proposed at the top of a blank page. ‘I was thinking we could have multi-coloured chairs scattered around multi-coloured tables. Industrial style metal ones. They’ll look amazing. Also, unicorn-headed teaspoons. Oh, and I could get some of those cushions that are covered in sequins that can be brushed two ways to create different patterns so that the chairs are nice and comfy for those who want to sit and natter.’ She reached over and grabbed her mobile from its spot on the kitchen bench. ‘Find out where to get reversible sequin cushions,’ she said aloud as she typed the reminder into her phone. She set the phone down with a satisfied nod. ‘I’d sell them as well, of course. They’re fabulous.’

  Ben blinked, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. So much for being spat out of the whirlwind. What was Poppy on about? Multi-coloured this and that? Sparkly cushions? That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t gourmet. It sounded like… a unicorn had eaten too many sweets and thrown up all over the place.

  ‘Nooooo. No. Uh-uh. This won’t do. This isn’t going to work.’ He pushed the chair back, and began to pace the width of the room, trying to get his thoughts in order.

&nbs
p; ‘What do you mean it won’t work? It has to. We’ve signed the lease. We’ve committed.’ Poppy tapped the end of the pen on the notebook. ‘I’ve seen some unicorn-themed clothing that I was planning to sell, but maybe we could find tea lovers’ apparel too? Cake lovers’ apparel? There must be some out there we could import, or we could create our own?’

  Ben’s stomach swirled. Tea and cake-loving apparel? Where was the sophistication? The class? This wasn’t what he had in mind, not by a long shot. It was like Poppy thought that by sharing a space with him they were joining forces, going into business together. An inseparable team. Just like the old days. But this wasn’t the old days. They’d been separated for years now. Gone down different paths. And, if he were one hundred per cent honest with himself, while it was one thing to share a lease, he didn’t want to share his shop. Not with someone who could so easily pack up and pick up in the middle of the night without saying a word.

  Fear froze his frenetic pacing. And what if she did that anyway? Even if their shops were separate, he’d be left with one surly teen, one disengaged one, and half a shop’s worth of lease.

  Ben swallowed hard, pushing the lump that was threatening to choke him, to drown his dreams, out of the way. ‘Poppy. Ground rules. We need to set some.’

  ‘Ground rules?’ Poppy’s head angled, her brows drawing together. ‘What kind?’

  ‘First of all. You are not to leave in the middle of the night without warning.’

  Poppy huffed and rolled her eyes. ‘I did it once. Years ago. I’m a grown woman, I’m not going to do that again. I wouldn’t do it to you. There’s too much riding on this. I get that.’

  ‘Which leads me to the next rule. We have to keep our businesses separate. We can share a space, share the lease, but under no circumstances is any of your… paraphernalia to enter my side of the shop. “Steep” is not to look like a fairy chundered in it. There will be no glitter. No sparkle. No tackiness. No unicorns. My side of the shop—’ he placed his hand on his chest to emphasise the point ‘—is to be a place of refinement. Where people who appreciate good tea will come and discover new flavours and broaden their tea horizons, all while enjoying delicious morsels.’

  Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘How did you and I ever end up friends? You’re such a stick in the mud. And who says “morsels” anymore? Food, Ben. They’ll be coming to eat your food.’ Poppy placed her hands on her hips. ‘Honestly, I can’t believe you’re so anti-unicorn. I knew I should’ve set up a cat-themed shop instead. Cat cafes are big business. I went to one in New Zealand and there was something so centring about having a cat purring on your lap while you were sipping a flat white. Although when one decided my braid was a plaything that wasn’t so fun. Who knew getting a kitten out of your hair could be so difficult?’ Poppy’s braid swayed as she shook her head. ‘We could do it, you know. Adopt some cats and kittens. A gourmet tea shop with kittens running amuck sounds pretty fab.’

  Ben forced himself not to rise to the bait. Poppy had always known how to press his buttons – had been amused by how he toed the line compared to her freedom-loving ways. She, more than anyone, knew he wouldn’t have time for the frivolity of kittens and cats skittering through a store, let alone time for cleaning up after them and maintaining their health.

  ‘What? You’re not going to tell me I’m being ridiculous?’ Poppy laughed, the sound brightening the room, as it had always done. ‘I was expecting you to give me that look of derision that I bet had people quailing in court.’

  ‘I wasn’t in court, Poppy. You know I worked in property law.’ Ben sat back down and took a long drink of his wine.

  ‘Well, you could have been. You could have changed directions, for all I knew. It’s not like you’ve bothered replying to the emails I’ve sent in the past year or so. Not with any news of substance. “I’m fine” does not an email make.’ Poppy crossed her arms and tucked her hands in her armpits.

  Guilt swarmed in Ben’s gut. That was Poppy’s signature move when she was hurt, sad, upset or wanting to shut someone out. And he’d been the cause of it. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply all that much, or all that well. Life got busy. You know how things are. Or maybe you don’t… I don’t know.’

  ‘Of course you don’t know. You didn’t ask. Even when we were emailing on a sort-of regular basis you never asked questions about my life.’ Poppy sunk her top teeth into her bottom lip, then released them. ‘You probably thought my life was one great adventure. Swanning from country to country. Chasing summer. Sunbathing. Swimming. Being frivolous and free while you spent hours poring over papers and whatnot. The thing is, I worked, Ben. The whole time. Yes, I saw sights. Yes, I had a good time. But I also worked my arse off. It wasn’t one long holiday.’ Poppy’s jaw jutted out, just as it always did when she was holding back – trying to keep her emotions in check, trying to be brave. ‘Just because I choose to smile instead of scowl, choose to laugh instead of lift my lip and sneer at the world, it doesn’t mean I don’t have a serious bone in my body. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.’ Poppy untucked her arms, lifted her chin, and took a deep breath in. ‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m being an idiot. So, back to business…’ She picked up her pen, lowered her gaze to the page so he couldn’t see how she was feeling, and scrawled two short sentences.

  ‘No combining space. No combining anything.’

  Poppy set the pen down on the paper with a slap. And just like that, Ben was a boy again, and the urge to make Poppy feel better was there. The need to reach out and run his hand down her braided rope of ebony hair. To hold her close. To tell her she was wonderful. She was enough. That despite whatever complicated things were happening in her life, in her head, that they could deal with it together. If she just let him in.

  Except she wouldn’t. He was an idiot to think her time away travelling would have changed that. Changed her.

  ‘I know you didn’t just sunbathe your way round the world. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  Poppy waved his apology away. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She looked up, a smile fixed on her face. One that didn’t chase away the shadows in her eyes. ‘If anything, I’m kicking myself. I should have expected this to happen. You’ve always been so paint by numbers. Knowing what you wanted, why you wanted it, and how you were going to get there. You’re the most organised person I know. Heck, I bet even your underwear drawer is colour-coded. Light to dark, from left to right. Or is it alphabetised by brand? Or arranged by occasion? Your day-to-day underwear would be at the top, followed by church underwear, because you’d be too respectful to wear anything threadbare or holey to church.’

  ‘I haven’t been to church since I moved out of home. I just went because it made Mum happy.’

  ‘But I bet you still go to St James’ every Christmas and Easter.’ Poppy raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it.

  ‘I do. With Mum.’ Ben nodded, not seeing any point in lying. ‘But I don’t have special church underwear.’

  ‘But I bet you’ve got dating underwear. The good stuff. Fits perfectly. Manly colours. Navy blue. Black. No tacky patterns. Although I did see some unicorn boxers that I could order for you if you wanted to shake things up…’

  Ben waved Poppy’s suggestion away. ‘Not in a million years will I wear unicorn boxers. Or unicorn anything. And frankly, Poppy, I’m starting to think you’re far too interested in the contents of my underwear.’ Ben bit down on his tongue. What had he just said? He surely didn’t say ‘contents of my underwear’.

  He glanced at Poppy who was doubled over, elbows on knees, her shoulders shaking as airy gasps filled the space between them.

  ‘I mean… not my underwear… my contents… er, I mean my drawers. I know you wouldn’t be interested in the contents of my…’ Shut up, Ben. God, what was going on with him? Usually he was calm, collected, in control of what came out of his mouth. But being in the same room as Poppy meant the words flew off his tongue as quickly as they came into his head. It was the Poppy-effect in ful
l flight. Her presence had always left him a little unsteady. Off kilter. Hell, he never put a foot wrong when he was left to his own devices, but whenever she entered his sphere, since the day they met, he’d found himself in all sorts of harmless trouble. Nipping over to his neighbour’s house to relieve their tree of apples. Getting tipsy on cider Poppy had stolen from her mother’s fridge when they were fifteen. He’d been so ill the next day his parents had taken pity on him and decided the hangover was punishment enough. Life with Poppy was more interesting, but it also meant there was a huge chance things could go askew.

  She could promise things were going to go smoothly all she wanted, but he only had the past to go by, and that made him nervous.

  ‘Oh God, you’re hilarious. You and your rules.’ Poppy straightened up and smoothed back the tendrils of hair that that had come loose from her braid to frame her face. ‘You were always one for them, but gosh, look at you now. So serious. So earnest. So much more… rule-y. What happened, Ben? You used to know how to have a bit of fun, but now…’ Poppy’s gaze started at his perfectly shone shoes, before she worked her way up to his suit pants, his suit jacket, lingered on the tie, then finished on his cut-just-that-day hair. ‘Now you’re all about looking perfect, and making everything perfect, and being perfect. What’s wrong with a little sparkle and shimmer and shine? What’s wrong with unicorns? They make people happy. They make people smile. Do you not want to be happy and smiley, Ben?’

  Did he not want to be happy? Of course he did. But right now he had too much riding on the success of Steep. If he didn’t do well, if leaving his practice had been a mistake, he’d have to deal with the disapproval of his father for… well, probably ever. ‘Look, Poppy, I just want to make sure my business succeeds. And for that to happen “Steep” needs to be taken seriously, and unicorns don’t exactly project that mentality. It’s one thing to go halves in this space, but there needs to be separation. No sharing, no boundary crossing, you understand? “Sparkle” can shimmer and shine all it likes, but “Steep” needs to be as solid and dependable as a good cup of tea.’