Miles is smiling. ‘Two shops isn’t big, and there’s no huge commitment; we’d be in and out by October.’
I’m staring at him. ‘You’re making this up as you go along again?’
He laughs. ‘You’re the one who said to wing it. We’re just flying a little further here.’ He’s pulled a key from his jacket pocket, and he’s unlocking the door. ‘If you’d like to take a look, it’s open?’
My feet are walking with no input from me, and the space I’m looking around is less scary than it could be. ‘It’s a lot smaller than the Net Loft, there’s no kitchen, but the shelves are already there, and there are even some for cards. If we brought in hat stands and simple tables, we’d get the same feel.’ My surge of enthusiasm dips. ‘We can’t be in two places at once, who would serve?’
‘Zofia has friends here. We’ve already checked– they’d be willing to share the hours between them for the summer.’ The way he’s standing, he’s looking like he already owns the place. ‘A quick coat of paint, some of Edie’s bestBetsy & Milosigns, a few carefully selected items and a postcard order– it’ll be ready to go in no time.’
I’m not just out of my depth here, I feel like I’m being carried out to sea. Miles has no idea about my limitations. People like him never do. I’m not ashamed of being different, but I need to remind him before it’s too late.
I look him straight in the eye. ‘Miles. I’m not like you. I don’t have money to spare or financial backers. When I barely know where my next coffee is coming from, I can’t take on another shop. I simply can’t afford this.’
He tilts his head on one side. ‘I’d put up the money. Your input would be entirely limited to styling and deciding what we sold.’ He’s watching my reaction. ‘And wherever it goes, we’d be equal partners at the end.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m still looking for the catch.’
He shrugs. ‘There isn’t one. You’re the one who created Betsy & Milo. I’ve done enough start-ups to sense it has lift. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does it makes sense to push it as far as you can as fast as you can.’
‘You’re happy to do that?’
He smiles. ‘I’m ready to give it a go. Ready enough to have lined up two more empty places further around the coast too.’
My mouth drops open. ‘Four shops– all temporary, all with nothing in?’
He laughs. ‘That’s the bit that makes them special. It’s very quirky but very now.’
I’m closing my eyes. ‘Okay, still talking hypothetically– tell me how it’s going to work.’
He’s still smiling. ‘Much as it is now, except we have reliable people to look after the Net Loft while we source the stock, deliver it and set it out in the new premises. We’d make sure you still did your beach sales with Pumpkin.’ He’s watching me closely. ‘It would mean a couple of months of hard work and long hours, but we get to do the fun bits. And if that’s not enough of an incentive, you’d be sure to find opportunities for new pieces for Fenna along the way.’
I’m being as grounded as I can be in the face of something that feels improbable. ‘It’s only for a few weeks, but…’
Miles’s hand drops onto my shoulder. ‘You don’t have to decide now. Wait until you’ve seen more.’
I stare around and my heart is faltering. ‘There’s an awful lot of shelving to fill.’ Last time the shop was a series of accidents. This time I’m walking into it with my eyes wide open.
Miles laughs. ‘That’s the beauty of Betsy & Milo, a lot of those shelves will be bare.’ His arm is guiding me towards the door. ‘Let’s go and see what we can find on the market.’
It’s not lost on me. I walked into here as myself, and even though it’s still hanging, I’m walking out as someone else entirely. Not only that. The first shop began with me trying to get some distance from Miles and ended up with me spending more time with him than ever. What he’s suggesting here would take that to another level.
And I’m not sure I can handle that.
41
The Market Place, Stoneybridge
Ice cream vans and pushy parents
Friday
The afternoon sun is so warm that I’m happy to linger in the shade of the green and white striped awnings as we make our way around the market stalls. It’s no surprise to find that Miles and I approach browsing in the same way we do the rest of our lives– from opposite directions.
Three moments after arriving he says, ‘I’ll make sure we don’t miss anything’, then races off and covers the whole area line by line, stopping in front of each stall for two seconds.
I know this because I pause my wandering from one bright object to the next to see what he’s doing. I murmur to Fudge, ‘For your dad this is a military operation at a million miles an hour.’
By the time he comes back from his whole market tour, I’m deep in concentration at my fifth stall.
