Tree & Decorations. Turkey. Stuffing Mix. Phone charger.
Emily jotted down what she needed on a pad of paper next to a phone in the hall. Then, next to each item, she put an asterisk if she could buy it anywhere other than a major supermarket.
Might as well practice what she preached.
At nine-thirty she packed her bag and headed out to her car. She was just searching for her keys when a polite voice with a sing-song quality came from behind her.
‘Good morning.’
She turned to find two young boys, no older than eleven or twelve, standing behind her. One was carrying a frisbee. The one who had spoken smiled and pointed at the village green.
‘There’s a sign,’ he said. ‘Does that mean we can’t play on there?’ The other boy cocked his head as though also anticipating the answer.
Emily grimaced. ‘Boys, I’m afraid I’m not local. I’d say that you should do as the sign says. Isn’t there somewhere else you can play?’
Both heads visibly sagged. The boy who had spoken sighed. The other turned to him and said, ‘Can’t we play in one of your dad’s fields?’
‘Let’s go and ask.’
With a brief goodbye to Emily, they headed off, up the left-hand fork past the pub and shop. Emily watched them go, their shoulders slumped, talking quietly as they walked. She gave a brief shake of her head, understanding the point of the sign now. Today was the first day of the school Christmas holidays. It was quite clear that Cottonwood had a Scrooge hiding somewhere behind one of its tall hedgerows.
With another bemused shake of her head, she climbed into her car and went to fetch Veronica.
The girl hadn’t dressed down. If anything, she had spent the evening preening herself, adding extra layers of intrigue and colour. A couple of new lines of sky blue had appeared in hair hanging down the sides of her face, while her nails were freshly painted. She wore a t-shirt with the slogan Art is Life on the front, with what Emily could only describe as a technicolour jacket over the top. It looked like someone had sewn together several multi-coloured toilet mats.
‘Thanks,’ Veronica said, setting into place like a peacock preparing to roost. ‘Are you getting on okay?’
Emily shrugged. ‘I suppose. I feel a bit isolated.’ With a smile she hoped might make her seem young and hip, she said, ‘I forgot my phone charger.’
‘Nightmare,’ Veronica said, deadpan. ‘You can’t get much signal anyway. They might as well put a fence up and forget about us.’
‘Who’s they?’
‘The outside world.’
‘You don’t seem to like it here too much.’
‘Yeah, I do,’ Veronica said, in complete contrast to her attitude. ‘I love it. Got my business, my friends, everything really.’
‘It must be nice,’ Emily said, trying not to sound sarcastic. ‘It feels like a very close-knit community.’
Veronica just shrugged.
They drove on for a while in silence. Veronica stared straight ahead, as though to turn her head might upset the delicate balance of her appearance.
‘I thought we could hit up the supermarket first,’ Emily said. ‘Just to get the essentials. Then we could go round a couple of farm shops.’
‘Sure.’
‘Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to go?’
‘Nope.’
Emily waited a few seconds for any elaboration before playing her trump card. ‘I, um, met Peter,’ she said.
Veronica’s head snapped around. ‘Did he mention me?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. I didn’t really talk to him. He seems nice, though.’
Veronica turned to stare out of the front again, but her head was swaying gently from side to side. Emily wondered if she could describe the motion as a visual representation of swooning.
‘Did you grow up together?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He looked about your age.’
A shrug. ‘Six months older. Ruined everything.’
Emily wasn’t sure how to react. ‘Ah, that’s not much really, is it?’
Veronica’s head snapped around again. Emily was shocked to see her eyes glistening. As the girl spoke, a single tear dribbled down through the mascara coating her cheek.
‘Six months put him a year ahead at school. Didn’t want to hang out with me no more.’
They picked up what they needed from the supermarket and loaded it into the back of Emily’s car. Enough condiments to see Veronica’s café through to the New Year, plus a few luxury items Emily said would add an extra touch. Away from the awkward issues of social interaction and back to professing Elaine’s business wisdom, Emily was in her element.
‘For a start, your menus need to go,’ she said. ‘You’ve got way too much crossed off. If you can’t sell it, don’t have it on there. Tell the customer what you do have, not what you don’t.’
‘I see.’
‘Use a specials board for anything new or different. Specials are important, too. While you’ll get a certain percentage of your clientele who’ll always order the same thing, there’s another subset always looking for something new.’
‘Got it.’
‘And get something on there for the special dietary groups. The vegetarians, vegans, the gluten-free. They’re expanding their market share all the time, but more importantly, if you get big groups, chances are there’ll be one person with a special dietary requirement. If you can’t satisfy it, you could lose five or six other customers at the same time.’
Veronica had pulled out a phone and appeared to be typing notes. ‘Did you go to business school?’
Emily smiled. ‘I did a couple of courses, but better than that, I lived with a good coach.’
‘Your grandmother?’
‘Yeah. She built up her business from nothing, practically single-handed. By the time she died, it was the biggest private business in our village.’ And it’s been sat empty ever since, a little voice whispered. ‘Ah, here we are,’ Emily said louder than was necessary, drowning it out.
‘Where?’
Emily pointed up at the sign outside the industrial holding. ‘Royston Lumber Yard,’ she said. ‘Also known at this time of year as a Christmas tree wholesaler.’
‘But I don’t have a Christmas tree.’
‘That’s why we’re here.’
‘But—’
‘No buts.’ Emily pulled into a car parking space and killed the engine. Before Veronica could say anything else, she jumped out of the car and headed for the wholesaler’s entrance. Behind her, she heard a car door open and close, then a low sigh as Veronica trailed after her like a sullen child.
The lumber yard’s manager was a monster of a man who looked like he uprooted the trees himself.
‘Barney!’ Emily greeted her old friend warmly as Bernard Collins came out of a porta-cabin office to greet her. Huge hands made bigger by workman’s gloves swallowed hers like a pelican gobbling down a fish.
‘Young Miss Wilson,’ Barney said, reaching up to pick a bit of sawdust out of his thick, wiry beard. ‘I was so sorry to hear about Elaine’s passing. I do hope you’re keeping okay.’
Emily forced a smile. ‘I’m getting there,’ she said.
‘To what do I owe this visit?’
Barney and his crew had built the wooden terrace at the back of Elaine’s teahouse, and came by once every couple of years to make sure it was holding up. In addition, Elaine had bought her Christmas trees here for as long as Emily could remember.
‘I’m after a couple of trees,’ she said.
‘For the teahouse? I have just—’
Emily put up a hand. ‘I’m downscaling a little this year. Taking a holiday. I’m not ready to reopen just yet.’ I might never be ready. ‘I’m, um, helping a friend. This is Veronica.’ She stepped back, waving the younger girl forward. Veronica just nodded.
‘All right?’ she said.
‘She has a small café and book exchange in Cottonwood,’ Emily said, sensing Veronica wasn’t about to make her own case. ‘Have you got many trees left?’
‘Come and take a look.’
Veronica, appearing more disinterested the longer the visit went on, trailed Emily as Barney led them deep into the lumber yard. In a shed at the back they found dozens of cut pine trees, tied up in netting. They ran from less than a metre tall to some over five metres.
‘What size should we go for?’ Emily asked the girl.
Veronica just shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
‘How big’s your room?’ Barney asked.
‘Not so big.’
‘Well, how about a one-fifty? They spring outwards and you can blag a bit of extra height by putting it on a little table.’
‘Sure,’ Veronica said.
‘Can you make it two?’ Emily asked. ‘I want one for where I’m staying.’ Out of the corner of her eye she caught a sharp glance from Veronica, but she ignored it.
‘Sure. I’ll get one of the lads to lash them to your roof rack. On the account?’
Emily, who hadn’t realised she still had an account open with Royston’s, just nodded. ‘Sure.’
Veronica, for her part, showed no interest in being involved in any of the discussions. She stayed out in the yard, fiddling with her nails or occasionally withdrawing a smartphone for a quick email check, while Emily had a brief conversation with Barney inside the porta-cabin office.
‘Wherever did you find her?’ Barney asked.
‘In the village where I’m staying. Cottonwood. She seemed interested in a few pointers to smarten up her business, but now I’m not so sure.’
Barney laughed. ‘She’s barely out of her teens. She probably has issues.’
Emily laughed and agreed, but she wasn’t so sure. Labelling Veronica as anything less than complex would be a mistake.
By the time Barney led her back out to her car, the two trees had been strapped on to her roof rack. Emily waved goodbye to Barney, then climbed into the car. Veronica climbed in beside her, staring straight ahead. Emily wondered if she ought to say something, but as they pulled out of the lumber yard and back on to the road, Veronica suddenly twisted in the seat.
‘You’ll get told off, you know.’
‘What for?’
‘That tree. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. We’re not allowed Christmas decorations in Cottonwood. Nothing with electric lights at any rate.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s the rule,’ Veronica said.
‘Whose rule?’
‘The suits. Cottonwood Parish Council. No electric decorations of any kind, and if you can’t have a few lights, not a lot of point having a tree, is there?’