‘And nice eyes. Although right now they look like pissholes in the snow.’
Kieran grabbed a bottled water, downed two tablets and insisted on paying anyway.
‘Freshen up,’ Janette said as he turned to go. ‘Drop by the boutique in an hour or so. I’ll tell Alison you’re on your way.’
By the time he got home, the pain had retreated from stampeding elephants to tap-dancing mice, albeit large ones. He collapsed on the sofa with a groan. ‘How do I feel this rough after two pints?’ he muttered.
He stared at his sideboard, where a half-empty bottle of whisky glinted reproachfully. Had he had a few shots when he got home? He didn’t think so.
Images flickered at the edges of his memory. Music. Dancing. Angela’s perfume. Prom spinning on his backside to applause.
Ridiculous. Impossible. Probably a dream.
‘Did you dream it too, Prom?’ Kieran asked.
Prom blinked, stretched, and promptly went back to sleep.
‘Thought so,’ he sighed.
An hour later, Alison greeted Kieran with a warm smile. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help,’ she said. ‘Janette mentioned you were under the weather.’
‘I’m sure her phrasing was less polite,’ Kieran said. ‘But I’m recovering. Let’s see what we can do.’
To his surprise, Alison already had a basic website up. Rudimentary, sure, but not bad. They set up at a small table in the back room, surrounded by rails of colour and the faint scent of upmarket perfume.
Alison spread out a folder of photographs: dresses on mannequins, handbags in all shapes, floaty blouses styled in a multitude of ways. ‘It needs to feel personal,’ she said earnestly. ‘A digital boutique, not just … buttons to press.’
‘Got it,’ said Kieran. ‘Simple navigation, clean design, minimal chaos.’
For the next two hours, they resized images, debated colour palettes and argued over fonts. Kieran steered Alison away from Comic Sans and neon pink and gave a mini lecture on user experience.
‘The average punter’s got the attention span of an amoeba,’ he said. ‘Social-media users scroll the equivalent of one and a half Eiffel Towers every day.’
Alison blinked. ‘Good grief. I check Facebook twice a week. Don’t do TikTok. Instagram frightens me.’
‘Keep it that way,’ Kieran said. ‘You’ll live longer.’
By the second cup of tea and the third ginger biscuit, the site was beginning to look … not half bad.
‘It’s perfect!’ Alison declared, clapping her hands. ‘You’re a genius!’
‘Flatterer,’ Kieran said, smiling despite himself. ‘Let’s just say it’s functional.’
Alison flipped the sign toOPENas Wilma breezed in, clutching her handbag like a weapon.
‘Hi, Wilma!’ Alison called. ‘Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right with you.’
Kieran nodded a polite greeting and started to leave, but Wilma caught his arm. Her grip was surprisingly firm. ‘You remember something,’ she said, her voice low.
Kieran blinked. ‘Sorry?’
‘Last night. AtThe Jekyll and Hyde.’
He forced a laugh. ‘Can’t say I do. I was probably home watchingGardener’s World.’ Although he knew he hadn’t been.
Wilma shook her head, her eyes narrowing. ‘Your aura’s off again. Muddy grey. Very cloudy.’
‘Are you sure you’re not talking about the weather?’ he said lightly, although a faint prickle crept down his spine.
