The Chic Boutique On Baker Street. Rachel Dove

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       Six

      The next couple of days went by in a blur. Amanda worked hard at the shop, finishing her projects and cutting out fabric for cushions and scented drawer liners, the items she was hoping to sell to the tourist trade. At night, the TV stood quiet, Mr Darcy left unwatched, as she frantically put together her flat into some semblance of the home she wanted. All but three of the packing boxes were now crushed and sat by the door for recycling, her sheets were all unpacked and put away. She had even been to the local grocer’s and filled her fridge with some proper food, things that required more than the pricking of plastic and the ping of the microwave. The shop had even made some sales, not enough for her to relax, but she had noticed a small trickle of townsfolk and was cautiously optimistic about things picking up once word had got around.

      And here she was, Sunday morning, the date of her tour with Ben. It wasn’t a date, she reminded herself. She hadn’t slept well the night before, mentally and literally scanning her wardrobe for the appropriate outfit. Dress warm, he had said, so eventually she had decided on her favourite pair of faded blue jeans, a nice top and a slick of lipstick. She had even bought a pair of walking boots for the occasion, although she had needed to go back to the shop for a pair of thick socks, realising that her Betty Boop trainer ones wouldn’t quite fit the occasion. In the city, she had never really worn socks, other than for the gym, and she much preferred to be barefoot or wear simple pumps or heels. Now her feet felt heavy, encased in thick wool and hard rubber. She had been clumping around the flat since she got up, just to wear them in. She felt like a spaceman, but she was going to show the Cockapoo shampooer next door that she was not just some city slicker, and she had a right to be here.

      The trill of the doorbell downstairs made her jump. He was right on time. Amanda headed for the buzzer, flicking her gaze to the mirror as she went past. She looked like a giddy schoolgirl, all flushed cheeks and shiny eyes. This is not a date. Be cool. Aloof.

      She pressed the buzzer and opened the door. Ben was halfway up the stairs, and she resisted the urge to meet him halfway.

      ‘Hi,’ he said, smiling. ‘Ready to go?’

      Amanda smiled, her small rucksack—also new—hanging from one shoulder. ‘Yep,’ she said, grabbing her warm parka from the hook on the way down. Locking the door downstairs, she was very aware of Ben’s gaze on her, and she willed her arms to work the key into the lock. Ben now stood by the side of a dark blue jeep, and he opened the passenger side for her. She settled into the seat, as Ben took her bag from her and put it into the boot without being asked. Country manners, Amanda scoffed.

      Ben slid into his leather seat at the side of her and started the engine. ‘So, I thought we could maybe have a picnic on the fell? I just need to call at my place first, to make lunch. That OK with you?’

      Her head whipped around in suspicion. ‘A picnic? Just us?’

      Ben kept his eyes on the road, his cheeks colouring. ‘Yes, well, Agatha thought it might be a good idea.’

      She nodded slowly. She felt a pang of embarrassment. This was like a pity date, she realised. Take the poor lonely girl out and feed her. She folded her arms tight across her chest. Fine, she would play along. It was just one afternoon, then he was out of her life. She could avoid him easily enough.

      Thank the Lord for the nice weather, Amanda thought to herself. It was slightly cold, but the sun was warm and the sky clear. ‘Sounds lovely,’ she said, throwing him an over-the-top smile. ‘Do we need to shop first? I didn’t bring any food.’

      Ben shook his head, pulling away from Baker Street in one smooth movement of the wheel. ‘No, I have that covered.’

      A short drive later and they pulled into the drive of a large house. The shopfront next door said Evans Animal Practice, and was painted in green and white. After flicking a button on the dashboard, an impressive wrought iron set of gates slowly rumbled closed behind them.

      Amanda looked around. Was this his parents’ house? An arranged date and meeting the parents? What was next? Shotgun wedding?

      Ben got out and dashed to her door before she could even reach for the door handle. Giving her his hand, he helped her out and then led her down the cobbled driveway. Amanda tried not to notice the jolt she felt when his fingers once again wrapped around hers momentarily. After opening the front door, he led her through to a large farmhouse kitchen. An Aga gave the room a nice warmth, and Amanda was immediately drawn to the huge pile of food amassed on the wooden table, and the small woman cutting doorstop slices of bread on a wooden chopping board. She looked like Ma Larkin, complete with pinny and ruddy cheeks. Ben dropped a kiss onto the woman’s cheek and motioned for Amanda to take a seat at the table. Was this his mother? Did he live with his parents?

      Amanda sat down and smiled at the lady, who was quite possibly the happiest woman she had ever seen.

      ‘Amanda Perry, this is Dotty. Dotty, Amanda Perry.’

      Dotty wiped her hands on her apron and held one out to Amanda. ‘Pleased to meet you, dear, I work with Ben. I’m just here to give him a hand with lunch. Do you have any preferences for sandwich fillings? Ben said you might like sushi, but we don’t get much call for that around here. Pickled herring is probably the best you will get,’ she chuckled, her belly rocking with mirth.

      Amanda laughed too, throwing a quick dirty look Ben’s way. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he said nothing. ‘Oh thanks, but I am not one for sushi anyway. I’m not fussy with sandwiches, this all looks lovely though.’ The table was groaning with bread, cheeses, fruits, a potato salad and a huge pork pie. Amanda’s stomach rumbled, and she put a hand on her tummy, embarrassed.

      Dotty smiled at her. ‘Did you not have any breakfast, dear? I can make you some toast if you like?’

      Amanda opened her mouth to say no, but Dotty had already picked up some bread slices and moved over to the toaster on the worktop. Amanda looked at Ben, who was СКАЧАТЬ