Authors: Elle Field
I must have just stood for thirty minutes after Eliza
left, staring at the boxes like they would magically rectify themselves but
unable to fathom out why Felicity had put everything in boxes and dumped them
at the front of the shop?
I don’t have a clue, and now I’m going to be a laughing
stock in the press when the shop is still like this on Monday. Local press
admittedly, but it’ll still be embarrassing. I’ll never be able to pop into Waitrose
again.
How could Felicity have left me like this? She’s mad, well
and truly mad, a little voice creeps into my head – my madness – and points out
that I can walk away from this. That’s madness though, listening to the voices
in your head, isn’t it; this voice seems perfectly rational though, all things
considered.
A
dream-maker
?
What was I
thinking
? Clearly, I
wasn’t. That’s what I get by spending the majority of my time in cloud cuckoo
land, and what about… a knock on the window almost makes me jump out of my
skin, but it also makes me forget the ranty little voice in my head. It’s Mum.
‘Now, I know I promised I wouldn’t pop in and see you on
your first day,’ she starts, oblivious to the lack of shop she’s trying to
visit me in. ‘But I couldn’t resist,’ she continues on, before she finally
looks up and takes in the disaster area that was formally known as a shop.
‘Goodness!’ is all she manages before she shoots me a querying look.
I fill her in, including my stupid plans for Monday.
‘Well, why are you stood here, Arielle? Come on, spit spot!’
she admonishes, ignoring the disbelieving look on my face.
‘I’m stood in a bomb site. There’s no money, no help, and I
have no clue,’ I list. ‘What sort of woman would do that to someone? Why
shouldn’t I walk away and leave her to her madness?’
‘What sort of a defeatist attitude is that?’ she clucks at
me, like I’m in the wrong. ‘Come on, we’ll move all these boxes into the back
and then you can see what you think.’
‘Really?’ I gasp. ‘You’ll help me? Oh Mum!’ I hug her,
difficult considering it’s tricky to get to her.
‘You can thank me later. Now, come on.’ She takes off her
coat once I’ve let go of her, throwing it onto a nearby box. ‘Let’s go.’
By some major miracle when Monday rolls around Flick’s has
been transformed. The window area has a small stage element to it so we’ve
transformed it – one half is a consulting area, the other half is being kept as
a window display. Keeping with the previous fairytale theme I’ve worked
non-stop with Mum to create a shop I’m proud of.
Obélix helped us out at the weekend, bringing with him some
forgotten fairy lights and his deep, springy black sofa which he insisted was
on its way to the dump anyway and promised me he hadn’t ordered a new sofa just
so I could have this one. This is one promise I’ll pretend to believe, even if
I know it’s a great big fib. Bless him.
The fairy lights are now dotted around the window and Mum
turned a blind eye to me stealing her bright pink and black swirly cushions for
the sofa. It all looks fantastic. I think her helping me out has made her
realise how true my fashion dreams are; even if I’m not some hot-shot PR
director, I hope she’s proud of me.
At nine o’clock on the dot, Felicity arrives. True to her
word she left me to it; the only time I heard from her was a phone call after
she read Eliza’s non-sarcastic article in the paper.
‘Blooming marvellous, Arielle,’ she had trilled down the
phone. ‘I knew I had it right with you. Well, see you on Monday!’ She ended the
conversation as quickly as it had begun.
The only word I had managed to mutter to was “hello” when I
picked up the shop phone; that didn’t count either because I
had
to say hello. I hope she still
thinks I’m “blooming marvellous” after she sees this.
‘Delightful!’ is what she says as she sweeps around the
shop, taking in my work. ‘I love it!’
Phew. I have a thousand things to say to her about leaving
me like she did but now she’s here I can’t think where to begin.
‘Sit, sit.’ She gestures to my consultation area, oblivious
to my discomfort. ‘Tell me how this works.’
‘Well–’ I begin, but she cuts me off.
‘Why the window? I mean,
I
think it’s perfect, but don’t you think it might be off-putting to our more
sensitive customers?’
‘Well–’ I reply, waiting for her interruption, and wondering
what she means by customers. Looking at her accounts, I know there haven’t been
any for a while – weird, as most of the stock she has is
gorgeous
.
For the focal point of the display, I used the most stunning
dress I could find – a luxurious asymmetric silk crêpe de Chine gown which
drapes elegantly to the ground. I’ve tried it on and it looked flawless; the
light pink has that classic Hollywood starlet feel and I know the buyer of that
dress will be one happy lady. If I had any money, I’d buy it myself.
‘Go on!’
‘They’re sharing the happily ever after of the display, so
it’s where their own happily ever after has to come true.’
‘Perfect, perfect!’ she delights. ‘Now weren’t you clever
getting that press coverage?’
‘Oh, she just sort of walked by and popped in,’ I admit.
‘Nonsense, Arielle!’ she dismisses. ‘Now, what time’s the
launch?’
‘Noon.’ Pending a freak destructive storm, nothing can stop
this launch from happening.
‘Fabulous! Well off you go!’
‘Sorry?’ I’m stunned.
‘Well, I don’t need you now. Enjoy some time off. You’ve
earned it with all your hard work!’
‘But the launch?’ I stammer.
‘Yes, yes. I’ll take care of it.’ She waves her hand
dismissively.
‘But–’ It was my concept is what I want to say but I can’t
speak. ‘Shouldn’t I be here?’ I nervously manage to rush out seeing her look of
puzzlement. Right now Felicity seems a little unstable which makes me think I
really shouldn’t be too blunt asking about the launch in case she turns on me.
There’s a dainty strength to her, I can tell.
‘Don’t be so silly, dear,’ she says as if I’m the mad one.
‘Now, go on. Enjoy your rest, you’ve worked so hard! I’ll call you.’
‘When?’
‘Dear,’ she clucks. ‘I won’t tell you again. Go.’ With that
she walks over to the door and opens it pointedly. I know I should probably
stay and argue it’s my right to stay, but stupidly I walk out. ‘Ta ra!’ I hear
her call cheerfully after me.
I’m stunned. It’s her
shop, fair enough, but I was the one who put my blood, sweat and tears into it
over the past four days. Even if it’s not technically my shop, it feels like
it’s mine in a way. Have I just been conned? There was no mention of pay I
realise as I head back to Mum’s car in a slow daze, tears falling down my
cheeks. How will I explain to the ’rents that I’ve been duped?
‘What are you doing home?’ Mum asks as I nervously enter
the drawing room.
A drawing room missing
cushions because we thought they were the perfect touch to my dream-making area
in the shop.
‘I have no idea,’ I mutter, my eyes filling with tears
again. I realised on the drive home that it’s Felicity who is in the wrong, not
me, but that hasn’t stopped my tears from falling.
‘Arielle?’ Mums leaps up, sounding full of concern.
‘She told me to leave,’ I wail.
‘But, but what about the launch?’ She looks flabbergasted; I
know how she feels.
‘She said she’d take care of it.’
‘What?! Do you mean that
woman
,’
she spits out, ‘that woman is going to take all the credit for your hard work?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I admit. ‘Because she said she’d call me,
but–’
At this I stop, I don’t even know where to start to describe
Felicity and her behaviour.
‘Well, I’m going to call her and give her a piece of my
mind. She shan’t get away with this.’ Before I can stop her, she snatches up
the phone. ‘What’s the number?’
‘Mum!’ I protest; I really am a complete loser if my mother
has to fight my battles for me.
‘The number?’
I know I have no choice. I tell her the number because
she’ll probably storm down to the shop if I don’t.
‘Is that Felicity?’ she politely snaps in a manner I’ve
never been able to master. ‘This is Gilly. Arielle’s mother,’ she adds
fiercely.
There’s silence as Felicity says whatever it is she says to
Mum.
‘Yes, I definitely am proud of
her
hard work,’ she continues. ‘Which is why I can’t understand why
she’s not going to be at the launch.’ A pause. ‘Oh, OK. I’ll put her on.’
This doesn’t sound good.
‘No,’ I mouth but she thrusts the phone at me. I feel so
embarrassed, like I’m nine years old and Mum is on the phone to Obélix’s mum
because we’ve had a silly fight. Mother-enforced conversations of
reconciliation are mortifying at any age I now know.
‘Hi,’ I mutter.
‘Dear, what’s this about the launch?’
‘Well you said I had to go home,’ I say in a tiny voice.
‘Yes, yes, for a rest, but I didn’t mean for you to miss
it.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I say slowly as I try to recall her
exact words to me. ‘You sent me away.’ Yes, I’m certain she sent me away and
made no mention about coming back for the launch.
‘Well, there was no point in you hanging around the shop,
was there? No, no, I said I’d call you.’
‘But not for the launch?’ I’m confused.
‘No, no, dear.’ I
knew
she had said I wouldn’t be at the launch. ‘I said I’d call you for the launch,’
she continues. Wait… what? ‘You know how I said it would get us some more
excellent press by telling everyone you couldn’t make it because you are so
very busy and talented. Then, voila! One quick phone call from me and you show
up looking fabulous for a few words and some more excellent free publicity for Flick’s,
which by the way I’m renaming. Arielle’s has a better ring to it, don’t you
think? Well, of course you do,’ she says before I can answer. ‘You approved
it!’
‘
What
?’ I finally
manage to interject as she pauses for breath. She really can talk. ‘You never
told me any of this!’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure I did, dear. Otherwise why would I have
had the man make the new sign, and why would he be fitting it right now?’
‘You never told me any of this, Felicity,’ I repeat. ‘I
thought you’d used me!’
‘Well of course I have, dear! You and your wonderful
talents.’ I can hear the hint of a smile in her voice. ‘But, it’s all part of
the plan. Now, remember, I want you here at about quarter past one like we
agreed.’
‘We never agreed anything of the sort, Felicity!’ I wail.
Brick wall. Head. Bang. Mum is looking at me equally as
confused with all these exclamations and gasps I’m making. I know she’s itching
to pick up the extension. I don’t blame her – Felicity is a damn sight more
entertaining than the book she was reading.
‘Really?’ she asks. Not asks confused but asks
puzzled
, like this is some great
mystery. There’s no mystery to this, she never told me. She’s
crazy
!
‘Yes, really,’ I confirm trying not to sound too sarcastic.
‘This is the first I’ve heard about any of this.’
‘Well, I’m sure I told you, dear! Do you know...’ She
laughs, like this is perfectly normal. ‘This sometimes happens. I think I’ve
told someone something and it turns out it’s all in my head!’
‘Right,’ I say slowly. Surely with an admission like that
one she should be seeing a doctor.
‘So, quarter past one, dear. Remember! Oh, and look
fabulous!’
‘Yes,’ I answer even more slowly, but she’s oblivious to my
reluctance.
‘Excellent! Until then, Arielle.’ With that, she hangs up
the phone.
‘Well?’ Mum asks as I replace the receiver with what must be
a look of sheer horror on my face.
‘She’s bonkers, Mum. Absolutely bonkers.’ But, bonkers or
not, it seems I thankfully
do
have a
launch to attend.
The launch was a fabulous success. At ten to one, the
phone had rung and Felicity had asked in that floaty way of hers if I could
possibly
manage to squeeze in making an
appearance at the launch, though I mustn’t trouble myself if I couldn’t make a
space in my jam-packed schedule, but it was just that
everyone
was asking for me…
Was
it too much trouble?
She had asked with such baited breath, as if she truly
didn’t know the answer, but we both knew I’d been waiting all morning for this.
Given I’d gained a few extra hours, I had decided to go to town on my
appearance – London town, that is. Well, the shop was now called Arielle’s. I
needed to sparkle and show the world – OK, Dorset and Hampshire – exactly who
Arielle was.
If anything all of this should have given me a little ego
boost. All those people schmoozed around me like I was some sort of genius when
in fact I’d just had a crazy idea stuck in box mountain and a lot of help from
Mum and Ob.
Eliza followed up her initial publicity with more wonderful
publicity about our successful launch – she was scrubbed up much more nicely
this time – and I should have felt elated but, the truth is, I just felt alone.
Surrounded by all those people, Felicity beaming at me like I was her protégée,
I felt
miserable
.
It was the thought that I had no one to share my success
with. Sure, I have my parents and Obélix, but it’s not the same. It’s also a
cruel joke to have success at home when each day is a constant reminder of Noah
merely from opening my bedroom curtains and seeing his old tree house. It’s opening
up memories I’d rather not have.
I still can’t process my last meeting with him and I don’t
want to, even though none of it makes sense. How could he not have told his
parents he is married is beyond me – if they’d have known, my parents would
have known and mentioned it – but I wish he had told them so my Noah-centric
world would have ended a long time ago. Instead I’m living in fear he’ll come
back here.
I have other daily reminders too – reminders of Piers
brought about by the welcome memories that flood me each time I go to Bertha’s
garage. Those are in stark contrast to the Noah-memories but still terrifying.
One thing that shines through the terror though is how much I miss him and even
though I told him I have to do this alone, I can’t resist phoning him to tell
him about my mad few days, spurred on by Ob to do so.
Dialling his direct line at work, I hope he’s not in a
meeting or on the trading floor. It amazes me how I want to tell him all about
my job when I’m still not exactly sure what he does. Careers have never
interested me, I guess, but everything is changing.
‘Piers Bramley.’
My whole body approves these two words, from top to toe.
‘Piers!’ I squeal. I can’t help it - it’s so great to hear his voice.
‘Pony! You’re breaking your rules already. I
knew
you’d phone me!’ There’s a cheeky
fizz of something in his voice that I hope is a good sign of things to come.
‘Did you?’ I feel coy, though there’s nothing coy about my
facial expression. I’m sporting a goofy grin and a glow.
‘Well, I
hoped
you
would,’ he admits. Does this mean he thinks about me, too?
‘I couldn’t help myself,’ I softly say, before buoyantly
stating: ‘I have a new job!’
‘Already? Fabulous!’ He sounds genuinely happy for me. Oh,
Piers Bramley! How could I not have realised sooner what we had?
‘Do you need a reference?’
‘A reference?’
‘Well I was thinking about this the other day, how you’d
probably need a reference and I figured I could write one for you, though I do
admit it was more a brilliant excuse to call you.’
‘What sort of jobs do you think I’m applying for?’ I tease,
but I’m thrilled he’s thought about me.
‘Fashion jobs, of course! I’ll say you’ve been my stylist
for the past four years, true enough, and how I was once fashionably-challenged
but now I’m sleek. All because of you!’
I’m touched, though I wouldn’t describe his transformation
as sleek. More like from sex pot to an even sexier pot.
‘Thank you, Piers, but I don’t need a reference because... I
have my own shop!’
Hearing Piers’ voice is increasing my excitement by the
second. I want to spill everything out but, at the same time, I want to savour
hearing him talk. It’s so nice we’re talking and not sniping like before I was
thrown out.
‘Wow! Wait,’ he says realising what I’ve said. ‘Your own
shop?’
So, I tell him. I fill him in on my chance meeting with
Felicity, the resulting days of craziness, but how it was worth it because of
all the eager faces at the launch and how we have already booked up
consultation appointments for the next month. I know!
‘She sounds a little crazy, Arielle,’ he points out as I
finish. I’m pleased he’s echoed my concerns about Felicity, not because
Felicity is a concern, but because it shows we’re still on the same wavelength.
‘Oh, she is.’ I laugh. ‘Bonkers, I’d say, but this is a
really good opportunity. I mean, one minute I was sat on this pavement thinking
I’d never make it, then suddenly Felicity appears like my fairy godmother and I
have a shop named after me! It all sounds crazy really, but I’ve had so much
fun and seeing the end result… well, it made the craziness worth it!’
‘Well, just be careful,’ he tells me in his most serious,
grown-up voice.
‘Of course, silly.’ Butterflies are happening in my tummy
right now.
‘When are you applying for your course then? It’s in London,
right?’ He sounds worried now, like
he
needs reassurance. I’m not too giddy not to detect a hint of franticness in his
tone.
‘It’s on twice a year, so I guess I’ll apply for the next
course,’ I soothe, wildly hoping his concern means he still cares.
‘Good. I can’t wait to have you back in London. I miss you.’
‘I miss you too,’ I admit. ‘But I’ll be back in London
before you know it, once I’ve gained enough experience.’
‘And then we’ll see,’ he says.
I’m not certain if he means about me and my course, or about
me and him. Still, I echo him: ‘And then we’ll see...’