Lost (Arielle Lockley Series Book 2) (3 page)

It’s perfect. It’s absolutely blooming perfect. OK, it’s not
perfect
perfect, but it’s easier to imagine here as Arielle’s London home.

Steve is on the phone to his boss, so I wander back inside to have another look around. OK, it’s smaller than I’d like, but it has a good feel to it. Felicity would like it – she’d like its vibe. It might not be near Oxford Street, but it’s thriving here.

As well as little boutiques dotted around like this one, which has the cutest name – Frocks and Socks – there are also stalls set up at Camden Lock which are doing a lively trade for a random wet Tuesday in January.
This is more like it.

Steve was telling me on the way over here about the foodie pop-up scene that has recently started in this area. It sounds pretty cool, though I’m not sure how Piers would feel about it. He’s not a fan of street vendors, though Steve reassured me that this scene is a lot slicker.

London is about to boom with the street food scene. We’ll all be eating from stalls set up in car parks, or “restaurants” that emerge in warehouses one month, then move elsewhere the next. I’ll take his word for it. Also, Steve’s word for it – pop-up – just makes me think what the food will do once you’ve eaten it... pop-up from your stomach.
Gross
.

The walk from the Tube was a bit of a shock, but it’s good to step out of my comfort zone and not just be a Chelsea and Kensington snob now I’m back in London. London is a big city – I can’t believe I’ve never really explored it – and I should consider other areas if I don’t get this shop.

When Steve explained that it was in a market I was worried. Then when we walked down Camden High Street with its protruding tattoo parlour signs and giant-sized sneakers sticking out of the buildings from huge leather-clad legs, I did wonder if I was wasting my time. OK, there were a few high street shops I recognised such as Office and Boots, and it wasn’t just tattooed and pierced packs of people dressed in black that we passed, but I wasn’t convinced that the stock we have would sell here.

In my black skinny jeans and giant tan woollen wrap-around coat, I did feel quite out of place walking down the High Street, though I did notice one Goth-type checking out my biker boots. They are pretty fierce, and have a rock chick meets dominatrix feel to them.

As we got further away from the Tube station and closer to the Lock though, which is when I spotted the cobbled streets and the canal, I became smitten with Camden. I loved the colourful red and yellow canal boats trundling off towards Little Venice, and I also noticed more people who looked like they would shop at Arielle’s.

As for the shop, our potential new London home, it has a certain charm about it. It’s got two big windows either side of the door, perfect for displaying show-stopping pieces to get people through the door, and it has a gorgeous mint-coloured shop front that looks vintage, yet quirky. Colourful bunting hangs across the sign, and there’s still stock in the windows that makes Frocks and Socks look really inviting. I snapped a photo to send to Felicity.

Inside there’s no stage, the area where I used to do consultations in Bournemouth, but I’m relieved. Whereas I love to put outfits together for myself, it was starting to get quite nerve-wracking doing it all the time for other people.

I can see us trading well here if we pick less obvious stock. I’m keen to see what Topshop showcases next month at London Fashion Week, especially with the rumours that a store is going to open soon in New York. Topshop has always influenced the stock Felicity tends to buy.

‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’

I turn around. Steve has been jabbering on the phone to his boss for the past fifteen minutes, but now he’s back. With his pale skin and dark spiked-up hair he fits in quite well in Camden, hideous suit and shiny shoes aside.

‘Good,’ I say apprehensively.

‘The shop is still available.’

‘Brilliant!’ I pull a face. ‘What’s the bad news?’

‘If you want it, you need to pay the deposit right now.’

How can I be expected to pay for a deposit
right
now
? I need to show the particulars to Felicity, talk things through with Piers and Dad, not to mention that Felicity and I need to set up things like business bank accounts and register with HMRC. I’m not quite sure how we’re going to run the business yet, but I know as it stands it’s still very much Felicity who has her business and I have nothing.

‘Whilst we were at the deli, my colleague Laura showed someone else around here and they loved it,’ Steve explains. ‘They are at the bank now, but if you can get back to our office with the deposit and fees before they do, then it’s yours.’

I frown. ‘That seems a little... underhand?’

Don’t get me wrong, I want this place, but I’d be mighty peeved if I had agreed to the place and then found out that someone else had pipped me to the post because they got their deposit in quicker.

Steve shrugs. ‘That’s business for you, and this is prime retail.’

I take that with a pinch of salt as that’s what he said about the deli. OK, let me think about this. I want this shop, but I don’t have anything organised for the actual business requirements. Felicity really should see it before a decision is made as she’s my partner, which brings me back to the fact that I never thought a decision would need to be made this quickly. I just wanted to see some shops but they keep getting snapped up before I can view them, let alone seriously consider them...

‘How much is the deposit?’ I find myself asking. I
really
like this place, plus we could be up and running in a matter of weeks.

‘£4,800, plus VAT, and then there’s fees... you’re talking about £6,500.’

Wow
.

‘And it has to be now?’

‘It has to be now.’

Shit
.

‘Can you call us a cab while I try and get hold of my partner?’

Steve grins. ‘You’re not going to regret this, it’s an awesome property.’ I can see him spending his commission already. ‘I’ll meet you outside in ten?’

I nod, my phone already at my ear as I silently pray that Felicity is at home and not at the hospital or something. Bugger, voicemail. Right, how about Piers? I glance at my watch. He’s working over in the States this week, but he should be up. I hit dial.

‘Pony!’

‘Hi, sweets!’ I chirp. I sound manic. ‘I’ve found a shop, but I have to take it now. What do you think?’ I rush out in one breath.

‘Woah, calm down, Arielle. Is this the one off Oxford Street?’

‘No, no. It’s in Camden, but–’             

‘Camden? You don’t know Camden, do you? I mean, we’ve never been there.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘But if you could see this place, you’d be impressed. Look, it’s right by the canal, which is pretty awesome – we
have
to go on a canal boat holiday by the way – but it’s just what I’m after.
Honestly,
CDF
.
’

There’s silence on the other end of the phone.

‘Piers?’

‘You seem quite excited, Pony. I don’t think you’ve got your business head on.’

Could he sound any more patronising?
Because I’ve said it’s in Camden he’s being like this. If I had said it was on the King’s Road or by South Kensington Underground Station – places he knows – this would be a very different conversation.

‘I mean, have you looked into this properly? Researched the area? Got figures from the previous owners or tenants relating to sales and overheads? Do you even know why this place is up for rent?’

All valid questions, but I have a good feeling about Frocks and Socks. This is where Arielle’s London home should be, I know it.

Ignoring Piers’ questions, I pull out my purse to check that I have my – OK, Piers’ – AmEx card on me. I’m not going to lose this shop, and if Piers won’t help me out, I’ll just have to help myself...

‘Camden, dear?’

I nod.

‘Really?’

Irgh,
please
don’t let Felicity react like Piers did. I’m feeling nervous enough as it is. If Felicity doesn’t agree to the shop in Camden Lock before Piers realises that his credit card has taken a serious battering – thank goodness he won’t get the bill for another few weeks – well, it doesn’t bear thinking about what sort of mess I’ll be in.

‘Really.’

Sod the explanation about why I want the shop to be in Camden. If Felicity and I are going to be partners, with her being more of a silent partner because she wants to retire and take it easy, then she has to trust me. I
know
I’ve made the right decision. Piers doesn’t agree with me, but he was too narrow-minded to even look at the particulars when he came home from the US, let alone be persuaded to go to the Lock to see it. He’s such a grouch of late.

‘How clever of you, dear. Camden, huh?’ She doesn’t wait for a response. ‘You know, I used to do a little entertaining in Camden, back in the day.’

With Felicity this could mean
anything
. Still, it’s wonderful to see her looking so chipper. She’s not been very well over the past six months, though she finally went to see a doctor just after Piers and I got engaged.

Her forgetfulness wasn’t the onset of dementia or a brain tumour as we’d feared – thank goodness – but an underactive thyroid. She’ll be taking tablets for the rest of her life to supplement her hormones, or lack of, but hopefully she won’t have any further alarming memory lapses. I can’t tell you how scared I felt the day she went to get the test results.

She’s looking well today, but she always does at her home in Bransgore, a small village about ten miles from my parents’ house. She’s on the edge of the New Forest whilst my parents are in the thick of it.

I’m looking forward to having a walk in the New Forest with Mum when she picks me up later on. Felicity couldn’t help but smirk when she clocked my dull brown walking boots; she’s used to seeing me in heels and not looking like this. OK, I’m wearing jeans and nice knits, with my blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail, but Felicity puts me to shame. She’s wearing silk peach pantaloons, which look very Alexander McQueen, teamed with a navy and black geometric print blouse. I have serious wardrobe envy.

She continues. ‘How soon can we get it ship-shape?’

I grin. ‘It’s a lot smaller than Arielle’s here, so it’s just a case of deciding what needs to be loaded up on a van and getting it all fitted and kitted out how we want it. There won’t be any major changes as it was a clothes shop before, but we’ll want to put our stamp on it. It’s called Frocks and Socks, which we’re allowed to continue using if we want, or we could rename it Flick’s? It’s up to you really.’

That brings back memories of the box mountain Felicity left me to deal with on my first day at the shop in Bournemouth, as well as my wild declarations of being a “dream-maker” to Eliza, the local reporter who wrote up the miraculous shop transformation.

‘No, no, let’s name it Arielle’s. I can give you the details of a really great sign-maker in Bournemouth.’

‘London,’ I correct, picking up the jug of water off the table and topping up our milk bottles.

Felicity has the coolest drinks cabinet. She uses old milk bottles for soft drinks, and has funky pewter-coloured, almost medieval-looking goblets for the harder stuff.

‘Sorry, dear?’

‘The new Arielle’s will be in London, not Bournemouth. We need a sign-maker in London.’

‘Isn’t London what I said, dear?’

She shoots me a look, and I decide to let that one drop, too excited to let it fully register on my radar.

‘Anyway, we can keep any excess stock at mine,’ I continue. ‘Though that’s obviously not ideal. But, once we get rid of the surplus then we’ll know how much stock we need to replenish and we can keep it on site.’

I wonder if I can persuade Mum and Ob to help me set up this shop, like they did back then. Piers is away quite a bit over the next month, plus he’s anti-Camden so I can’t rely on him too much, not that I would want to. I made Arielle’s happen in Bournemouth on my own, and I’ll make it happen in London, his credit card deposit aside...

OK, I know I shouldn’t have used it, but I don’t regret it. Once Felicity signs the paperwork and I get access to the business account, I can repay the money before he even realises I took it. He won’t even look at the bill too closely... hopefully.

‘What are you doing with Arielle’s?’ I ask. ‘The one in Bournemouth,’ I clarify, as this is getting confusing. Maybe I should refer to Camden as Frocks and Socks, just so we’re all on the right page.

Arielle’s is still open at the moment, but business really isn’t great so I don’t fancy her chances of renting it out in this economy. I took the train from London to Bournemouth and popped in to see Chelsey and Tasmin before I came here. It was odd going back there, not to mention a pain getting the bus over to Felicity’s as Mum is having her mammogram this morning.

It feels like running the shop in Bournemouth happened another lifetime ago, like last year happened to someone else and not me. I still can’t believe I used to spend my time not working, doing nothing, and that I was happy to live the life of a vapid consumer. How was I not so
bored
?

Tasmin is now managing the place, and she’s still rocking her preppy style; Chelsey has been promoted to assistant manager. She’s changed her hair from a cropped neon pink style to a sleek blonde bob, and she now looks like a confident young woman, rather than a teenager with a Saturday job. Felicity is becoming more and more distant from the shop the girls told me, and neither of them want to move to London – which is why I went to talk to them. I’ll have to sort out new staff, another thing to add to my ever-increasing list.

Who knows when I’ll get some time to start planning my wedding to Piers, which is all they wanted to talk about. I couldn’t share much with them, but they did coo a lot over my engagement ring, and we had fun trying on a box of really old clothes that Tasmin found in the storeroom.

We found a gorgeous rose print fifties dress, which will look perfect in the window of Frocks and Socks. With its sweetheart neckline and wide-flared skirt, I could picture Felicity, in her twenties, dancing the night away in it at some illegal nightclub in Soho.

‘Etta’s looking into it.’

‘Who?’

I’m thinking she must be one of Felicity’s “old girls”, as she calls them, one of the savvier ones who is more into property development to boost her pension than playing mah-jong or boules. Etta certainly sounds like a name from yesteryear, although it is definitely a trendier name than Vera or Maude who are the old girls who play bridge with my mum and Felicity. No, I don’t get the appeal either, but it keeps them out of trouble. 

‘You know dear, Etta.’ She waves her hand dismissively. 

I don’t, but with Felicity I’m used to filling in the blanks. It’s just one of her quirks. Still, at least she has someone looking into matters and that’s the main thing. Etta is probably Felicity’s solicitor or accountant. I picture a stern-looking woman in a Marks & Spencer suit, with sensible court shoes and a low-maintenance hairstyle. Good old Etta will sort things out.

I take a gulp of my sparkling water to steady my nerves. This next part could be tricky. ‘Does this mean we’re good to go with Camden? Are you happy to put a deposit down?’

‘A deposit, dear?’ Her voice, usually so soothing, is really grating right now.

I take another gulp of my drink. If she says no to this then I’m buggered. I’ll have to fudge the wedding budget to cover the AmEx charge. Would Piers really believe that I’ve bought my wedding dress from a bridal boutique called Davidson Properties?

‘For the shop in Camden,’ I calmly say. ‘You’re happy if we take it?’

‘Hmmm, let’s have another squiz.’

I hand the particulars back to her and she reaches for her glasses which are, as always, perched on the top of her head. Her hair is more white than black nowadays but it still suits her.

I can’t believe she’s going to be seventy-seven this year. I always thought she was in her late fifties or early sixties, like Mum. She actually looks younger than Mum – well, she did when I first met her; they look about the same age now.

I get why Felicity calls Maude and Vera old girls. I met them at Felicity’s birthday party last year, and they are proper old ladies with sensible shoes and surgical stockings. That is
not
Felicity Farrell.

It’s hard to believe that it was less than a year ago that I first met my “fairy godmother”; it feels like I’ve known Felicity all my life. She’s not just my former boss, now business partner: Felicity is family, and my parents feel the same way.

She rummages through the papers. ‘Camden Lock, dear?’

‘Ah-huh.’ I’m trying to sound cheerful but fear it’s coming out quite strained.

‘I suppose it is near to Etta’s place so it could work. I can’t see myself going up to The Smoke as much as I used to.’

Who the ruddy hell is this Etta? I don’t get to ask though as her next words take that thought clean out of my head.

‘Let’s do it.’

Fan-bloody-tastic! I grin and lift my milk bottle in salute.

‘Cheers! Here’s to Camden,’ I gleefully, and thankfully, squeal.