Nicola barely even realised that she was home. She’d been lost, utterly lost, in some strange world that she hadn’t known existed. Dangerous and unfathomable, but also indescribably beautiful. Instead of going inside, she stood around the back of the mews staring down at the perpetual motion of the river, the complex shades of grey, white, black. The final movement of the piano concerto came to an end, the crystal notes dying away like the fleeting moments of a dream. She took off her headphones before the next piece could begin. It was too much to feel, too much to allow inside of her when, right now, the one thing she wanted to do was get back to normal. Accept that ‘normal’ was perfectly adequate. More than enough.
She went around to the cobbled yard and let herself into the house. The bag of knickers was by the door where she’d put it this morning on her way out. Taking it into town and dropping it at Oxfam would kill an hour or so. She could get lunch at the new place that did green protein smoothies, do a little shopping, call her sister – maybe even her mother. Surely, that’s what she did every Sunday, though for some reason, she couldn’t remember. Yesterday was a line drawn in the sand, with everything that came before being erased by the tide. Except, she was determined not to think about yesterday. Or listen to Rachmaninov. Ever again.
Nicola showered, plaited her wet hair, and got dressed in jeans and a cashmere jumper. As she was closing the door of the walk-in wardrobe, she noticed a few bits and pieces of clothing that she no longer wore, or that held too many memories. The dark red suit she’d worn the night she and Ollie had hooked up. A sparkly blue velvet wrap dress from Whistles that had been unwrapped so many times it made her feel like a package misdelivered in the post. She took them out and shoved them into another carrier bag. Then there were the shoes. Nicola loved her shoes and spent a fortune on them. Most of them she couldn’t bear to part with, even if she could remember some occasions of wearing them – and nothing else – when she’d been with Ollie or others. It was worth clearing some space in the wardrobe, though, so she added a few pairs she hadn’t worn in ages to the carrier bag, and went downstairs.
On her way out the front door she checked her phone, half hoping there would be something urgent from work that would occupy her for the rest of the day. There wasn’t. There was, however, a text message from Ollie. Even though she’d deleted his contact details and the message came up as an unknown number, she recognised it immediately.
You OK, babe? Thinking of you.
Nicola deleted the message with a surge of anger. Ollie may be thinking of her – but Dmitri most certainly, was not. He was probably at church right now, conducting a choir, happy and uplifted in the music. He had that and she had… her life. She forced him out of her mind. He and his choir could go to hell – along with his sad story, his wasted talent and his music.
Nicola put on her coat and shoved her phone into the pocket. She grabbed the bags of clothing and lingerie and went out the door.
It was only a few minutes’ walk to the high street. As she made her way along an alleyway lined with expensive shops and restaurants, she looked in some of the windows. If – and in her mind it was still a big IF – she did go over to Jules’ house for a ‘family Christmas’, then she’d need to buy a few gifts. Soaps, candles, bath salts, knitted hats and scarves, wine. It didn’t really matter what it was, as long as it was wrapped up and under the bloody tree. She could get Jules a nice handbag from a client that had recently acquired a designer leather goods company. And a ‘Timeless’ watch would be perfect for Teddy or Jules’ husband, or both. At least her job made it easy to source Christmas presents.
Nicola kept walking past the nice shops and turned on to the high street, going towards the station. The street was busy with shoppers, families with expensive prams and well-dressed couples. Richmond was one of the most well-heeled boroughs of London. Yet, as she walked, she was aware of the occasional dark shape huddled in a doorway. Even here, there were homeless people. Like Dmitri and his family had been once. Like the people at the shelter yesterday, so transformed by the simple gift of song. She didn’t look at them as she passed, or give them money. There seemed to be a lot more of them than she’d ever noticed before.
Finally, Nicola turned on to the Quadrant. Ahead of her was the Oxfam shop. An old man was rummaging through a pile of plastic bags piled in front of the door. The shop was closed. The sign next to the door said it opened at noon. She checked her watch. It was only half eleven.
The old man looked up at her and grinned. He didn’t have a single tooth in his mouth that she could see, and even from a metre away she could smell his sour, unwashed skin and clothing. She gave him a deep frown. There was no way she was going to leave a bag with her unmentionables in it while he was here poking around.
Nicola walked past the shop and crossed the street. Wasn’t there another charity shop just up the road towards the A307? She didn’t know the name, but she went down the side street where she thought she’d seen it. She passed a second-hand bookshop and a nail salon.
At the end of the street, just before Paradise Road and the lanes that led up to the Vineyard and Richmond Hill, she spotted the shop, painted red, with a white sign that read ‘Care – Charity Shop’. Care. She didn’t know the charity, but the door to the shop was open. Someone must be inside; she could be rid of her bags and be gone. She walked up to the window. The display had a frightening-looking female mannequin with a painted face and a blonde wig. It was wearing a hideous ethnic-print summer maxi dress and a necklace of chunky beads. Totally off-putting, and totally wrong for the Christmas season. Behind the mannequin, the shop was cluttered and in disarray.
Hefting her bags, Nicola went inside. Just inside the door, she almost collided with a girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, with long black hair, dark eye-makeup, and a pierced lip.
‘I’m sorry,’ the girl said, ‘I’ve got to close the shop for a few minutes. The manager had to pop out. I’m not allowed to have anyone in here when it’s just me.’
Nicola frowned. ‘I’m here to donate some clothing.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ the girl said. ‘It’s just, can you come back when—’
‘No,’ Nicola said. ‘I’m here now.’
‘But I really need to close up.’
‘Are you a volunteer here?’ Nicola asked frostily.
‘Yes, I’m getting some work experience.’
‘And what exactly does this charity – Care – do?’
‘Well,’ the girl hesitated for a moment like she was trying to recall something memorised by rote, ‘they provide temporary care to people who are homeless, or refugees waiting to be rehoused, or who need a—’
‘We,’ Nicola cut off the spiel. ‘You’re a volunteer here, so it’s we provide. Not they. If you’re working here, you need to be a part of it. Own it.’
The girl gave her a look like she had two heads. ‘OK…’ she drawled. ‘But I need you to go. I’m supposed to lock up.’
‘The hours posted on the door say that you’re open on Sunday from eleven a.m. to five. It’s now eleven-forty. So you’re open.’
‘But Charles said we need two people here at all times.’
Nicola could tell the girl was a little thick and a lot clueless. On the other hand, at least this shop had better hours than Oxfam. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘I get it. So why don’t we say that I’m volunteering for your charity, for the next ten minutes while I’m in your shop.’
‘Umm… I don’t know… You’re supposed to fill out a form.’
‘I’m not going to bother with that,’ Nicola bristled. Kolya, at the shelter, had said the same thing. It sounded ludicrous when she was the one giving up her time. ‘Now, you take these bags up to the counter, and I’ll do you a favour – help you price them. Some of the clothing is quite expensive.’
‘Yeah?’ The girl perked up a little.
‘And by the way,’ Nicola said, growing increasingly annoyed, ‘that dress in the window is hideous. You need something that is going to attract holiday shoppers. Where are your charity cards and gift wrap? Where’s your Christmas lights and tree?’
The girl looked blank. ‘I don’t know. Do we need those things?’
‘If you want to make money for your charity, then yes, you do. Here…’ Nicola rummaged through the bag and found the blue velvet wrap dress. ‘Put this on the mannequin. And, for God’s sake, give her some bling. Don’t you have any jewellery or glittery handbags – that sort of thing?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ The girl seemed completely bewildered as she went to change the dress on the window mannequin.
‘Why don’t I have a look around and see what I can find?’ Nicola said in a low hiss. ‘This place needs a complete overhaul. It’s pathetic. You’re already off the beaten track. You need to be better than the rest. A destination. Not a complete tip.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’ The girl didn’t even have the courtesy to sound offended. ‘Be my guest.’
Nicola poked around the shop while the girl wrestled with the mannequin. She found a couple of decent handbags shoved on a tiny rack in the corner. The glass case underneath the till had some jewellery that would be passable, and on one of the overstuffed racks of clothing, she found a white faux-fur wrap that looked practically new. The majority of what was in the shop, however, needed to find its way to the nearest bin. She looked at a few tags that were on the nicer things. Nothing in the shop seemed to be priced at more than a fiver.
‘Put this on her.’ Nicola thrust the wrap and the jewellery in the direction of the girl. She took a pair of nude, high-heeled court shoes out of the bag she’d brought. ‘And put these in the window as well. They’re L.K. Bennett.’
The girl finished dressing the mannequin. The rest of the shop still left everything to be desired, but at least it was a start.
While she’d been looking for the jewellery, Nicola had spotted several unopened boxes behind the till. One of them was labelled ‘Xmas lights and decorations – shop.’ She opened the box.
‘Put up some lights around the window,’ Nicola directed the girl. ‘You need to make the place look a lot more Christmassy. Here…’ She tossed the girl a string of lights.
‘We,’ the girl said suddenly.
‘What?’
The girl grinned. ‘You’re here now, volunteering. So you need to own it.’
‘One nil to you.’ Nicola smiled back grudgingly. Maybe the girl was not completely thick, just inexperienced.
Nicola helped her untangle the cord of lights. Luckily, there were some nails already in place around the window, so it wasn’t difficult to drape the string of lights around the frame. But there was no plug. Nicola sent the girl out the back of the shop to look for an extension lead.
Not even a second after the girl was gone, the bell on the door tinkled and a woman came in, pushing a pram. She was wearing a baggy blue tracksuit with spit-up on the shoulder. Her curly blonde hair needed a wash and her eyes had dark bags under them. Nicola supposed that having a baby did that to you.
‘Hello,’ the woman said. ‘Do you have any charity cards? The other shops are mostly sold out.’
‘Of course,’ Nicola said pleasantly. ‘We still have a great selection – let me get them for you.’ She walked quickly to the door to the back room. ‘Charity cards – now!’ she said in a sharp whisper.
‘Um, in the box by the till,’ the girl whispered back.
Nicola went back out to the main shop and found a box shoved under the counter marked ‘charity cards’.
‘I’m sorry for the inconvenience,’ she said to the customer. ‘If you want to have a quick browse around, I’ll just get them out.’
‘OK,’ the woman said hesitantly. She pushed the pram up nearer the till where there was an open space. Nicola caught a glimpse of the baby, bundled up in a fluffy pink suit and hat. Its blue eyes were open, and it – she, probably – was sucking on a pink plastic dummy. Nicola looked away, feeling a little pang somewhere inside her.
Lifting the box on to the counter, she tore it open. There were packs of cards in twelve different designs. She took out one of each and put them on the empty card rack next to the CDs.
‘Here you go,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a really nice selection this year.’ She held one out with a picture of a robin in a Santa Claus hat. ‘This one is cute.’
But she wasn’t sure the woman even heard. She was staring at the blue velvet wrap dress on the mannequin. ‘How much is that dress?’ the woman asked. ‘The one in the window.’
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Nicola said. ‘And so flattering on. It’s from Whistles – completely sold out last season. It’s hardly been worn at all. And that deep blue colour would really suit you.’
The woman blushed. ‘Well, I don’t know.’
‘I happen to know that it cost over a hundred and fifty pounds new. You can have it for – say – thirty-five.’
‘Well…’
Another first – at this moment, Nicola actually felt grateful for her PA Chrissie’s annoying habit of buying and selling things on eBay during worktime and bragging about what she’d paid for this dress or that pair of shoes, and how much she’d got at auction for this handbag or that jumper. Nicola had never bought or sold anything on eBay but she wasn’t about to let the Whistles dress go for a fiver.
‘Really, you must try it on. Let me get it off the mannequin for you.’
‘I don’t want you to go to any trouble…’
‘It’s no trouble. That’s what we’re here for. And all the money goes to a great cause. Helping to rehouse homeless people and refugees. It’s very difficult this time of year for people on the streets. So dark, and cold…’ Nicola went to the newly dressed mannequin and stripped it bare. The girl had come out from the back, and was staring dumbly at Nicola, watching the whole proceeding. Nicola gestured to the girl to plug in the Christmas lights.
Nicola had just got the dress and wrap off the mannequin when the baby started to grizzle. A second later, the dummy clattered to the floor. The baby started to cry.
‘Oh dear,’ the woman said. ‘I suppose I should go. She needs a feed.’
‘You’re welcome to feed her in the back if you like,’ Nicola said. ‘Then you can try the dress on when you’re done. Really, there’s no rush.’ She gestured to the girl. ‘Take that dummy and wash it off. And make sure there’s a chair and whatever else the lady needs for the baby.’
The girl’s mouth dropped open. But she did as Nicola directed.
‘Thank you, you’re so kind,’ the woman said. ‘It’s so hard to find a place to feed her in town.’
‘I understand. Here’s the dress,’ she held it out to the woman. ‘And try the wrap too. It’s from Debenhams, and it’s “as new”. Ten pounds. Of course, we can give you a small discount if you buy multiple items.’
‘What about those shoes in the window?’ the woman said hopefully. ‘The L.K. Bennett ones. What size are they?’
‘Size 6,’ Nicola said. ‘Would you like to try them too?’
‘Yes please.’ The woman looked flustered but excited as Nicola brought everything to the back of the shop for her. Of course, the back of the shop looked like a cyclone had gone through it, but that couldn’t be helped.
The girl brought the dummy back to the woman, holding it with two fingers like it was a dirty tissue. The woman took it gratefully.
‘OK, I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Nicola said to the woman. ‘You,’ she gestured to the girl, lowering her voice, ‘come give me a hand. We need all the Christmas stuff out now.’ She closed the door on the woman and the baby. ‘And by the way, what’s your name?’
‘Shelley,’ the girl said, her mouth turned down like an open umbrella.
‘OK, Shelley, I’m Nicola. Nice to meet you. But there’s an awful lot of work to be done before this place is even remotely ready for the holiday season. Which, in case you didn’t realise, is half over. You should have had this stuff out in early November. Late October even.’
‘Charles said to go through the CDs.’
‘Is Charles the boss?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where is he, anyway?’
‘He had to take some stuff to the shelter. I guess he’s having a coffee there or something.’
‘Fine, well, why don’t we give him a nice surprise when he gets here? Get the shop looking more festive. Do you like Christmas, Shelley?’
‘I dunno. I guess I did when I was a kid.’
‘I think everyone feels that way a little bit,’ Nicola said. For her it was certainly true. ‘But the point is, at Christmastime, people are more likely to give to charity and care about homeless people and refugees. You got it?’
‘I guess so.’
‘So everyone that comes into this shop must buy something. The more, the better. So get those cards out and start clearing away some of the clutter so you can unpack these boxes.’ Nicola pointed to two more boxes behind the till marked ‘gift wrap’ and ‘ornaments’.
‘Fine but—’ the girl broke off. ‘Who left this stuff?’ She pointed to the carrier bags on the counter.
‘I did. I said I had clothing to donate. Like that dress she’s trying on.’ Nicola gestured with her head towards the back room.
The girl stood up a little straighter, suddenly more knowing. ‘We can’t take this stuff. I mean, the bras, yeah, they’re fine.’ She picked up a black bra and ran her finger over the soft satin. ‘But we don’t take knickers. You’ll need to throw those in the bin.’
‘Throw them in the bin?’ Nicola stared at her. ‘Do you know how much those cost? There are sets there from Agent Provocateur, Boux Avenue, Intimissimi. It’s all washed and in perfect condition.’
‘Like I said, we can take the bras, but not the knickers.’ Shelley crossed her arms.
‘Well that makes no sense.’ Nicola’s voice rose. ‘I mean, you can sell whatever you like in your shop, but don’t homeless women need knickers too? Or refugees?’
‘It’s policy—’
Just then, the door opened and a man came in. He looked like he was in his late-twenties, early-thirties. He had thinning ginger hair and a bit of stubble on his face that Nicola thought might be an attempt at a beard. Above the stubble, his cheeks were pitted with acne scars. He was wearing a checked flannel shirt and a pair of baggy jeans.
‘Charles.’ The girl threw down the black bra she was holding. ‘Thank God you’re here. This woman, like, wants us to sell her old knickers!’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake.’ Nicola began packing everything back into the bag. Her face felt like it was on fire. But when she looked up again at the man, she could see that policy or no, he was far from horrified at the prospect of her donation. He gave her the kind of smile that she recognised well. The kind that made her want to get the hell out of there.
Too late. He was already up at the counter. Though he didn’t reach into the bag, he did take a good look. ‘Designer, is that right?’
‘High street,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘But expensive, and…’ she lowered her voice, ‘for heaven’s sake, it’s all been washed.’
‘I understand,’ Charles said. ‘And we definitely appreciate all donations.’ His eyes brushed hers and she could guess the extent of his appreciation.
‘Well, it doesn’t sound like it from the way she talks.’ Cringing with embarrassment, Nicola pointed at Shelley.
‘It’s true,’ Charles said. ‘It’s a big challenge for us to get enough clean clothing to supply to the people we’re trying to help. But there are other issues besides hygiene. It’s… I’m not quite sure how to put this… whether or not the clothing we distribute sends the right message. We’ve got a number of churches involved in funding the Care charity.’
‘The right message?’ Nicola wasn’t sure if she felt more like laughing in his face or whacking him. ‘So you’re saying that you don’t want your homeless women and refugees to have something nice – sexy. You’re afraid they’re going to look like sluts, is that it?’
‘No, of course that’s not—’
‘That IS it.’ And she did laugh then. At him, at herself, at the ludicrous situation. ‘Will it help send the “right message” if I take away the gifts from my married lover?’ she said, deciding to confront him head on. ‘And things I’ve worn on one-night stands with God knows who?’
Charles’ face turned an unflattering shade of pink. Shelley’s cheeks were puffed out and she looked like she might burst – into giggles, Nicola assumed.
‘Let’s see…’ Nicola rummaged in the bag and held up a green satin and lace bra, ‘last time this one was on the front lines, it was an oil exec from Houston. He said his name was Colin, but I’m sure that was fake.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘And then there’s this one…’ she pulled out a see-through black thong. Charles’ eyes looked like they were going to pop. ‘Ollie gave this to me after standing me up around Valentine’s Day. It was his wife’s mother’s eightieth birthday or something. He has a lot of relatives, and they always seem to be having birthdays—’
The door at the back of the shop opened up. All three of them turned as the woman with the baby came out. She was wearing the midnight blue wrap dress, the L.K. Bennett shoes and the faux fur wrap. The baby was slung over her shoulder. She patted it on the back and it gave out a loud belch.
‘How do I look?’ the woman said.
Nicola stepped forward, gave the neckline of the dress a little tug, then stood back. The woman was rounder and plumper on the bottom than Nicola, and the dress hugged her figure. No longer did she look like the tired, overwrought mum who had walked into the shop earlier. Now, she looked happy and radiant. ‘I think it’s fabulous on you,’ Nicola said, beaming her encouragement.
The woman eyed Nicola closely. ‘This was yours, right? You donated it?’
‘Yes.’ Nicola felt the skin on her neck begin to crawl.
‘And has it seen, umm… as much “front-line action” as the other stuff?’ She had a twinkle in her eye now.
Shelley gave out a little snort.
Nicola gave the woman a knowing smile. ‘As I said earlier, it’s barely been worn at all.’
‘I’ll take it,’ the woman said. ‘And the wrap and the shoes.’
‘May they serve you well,’ Nicola said.
The woman returned to the back room to change into her normal clothes.
As soon as the door closed, Nicola turned to Charles and Shelley. ‘She should get a discount for multiple items. Let’s say – ten per cent. And really, Charles,’ she lowered her eyelids, reached out and put a hand on his arm, feeling him jolt, ‘this shop is a disgrace.’ She removed her hand, sharpening her voice. ‘You need to clear out all the rubbish and get the Christmas displays up. Today.’
‘She told me to get the Christmas ornaments out,’ Shelley moaned. ‘I told her you said to do the CDs.’
‘No, she’s right,’ Charles said, looking completely flustered now. ‘We need to get the shop looking better for Christmas. This is our busiest time of year.’
Nicola shoved the last of the underwear back into the bag. ‘You should start by redoing the window display,’ she said. ‘There are some more shoes in that bag, and a suit you can use.’ Nicola pointed to the second bag she’d brought. ‘The suit is from Jaeger. Don’t sell it for less than forty-five pounds.’
‘Forty-five pounds,’ Charles repeated, sounding a little flabbergasted.
‘Now, tell me where that homeless shelter is, and I’ll go there now, and take the “unwanted items” with me.’
‘Gosh, um… yes,’ Charles stammered. ‘I mean, it’s up towards Sheen…’
‘I know where it is.’ The woman with the baby came out of the back. The baby was asleep in the pram and the woman put her purchases on the counter by the till. She took a pack of charity cards off the rack and added them to the pile. ‘I’m walking that way – I can drop it for you.’
Nicola nodded. ‘Yes, thanks. It’ll save me the bother.’ She wondered if the lingerie in the bag would actually find its way to the shelter. If not, fine – she didn’t care. Let it go to a new home where it would be appreciated.
‘Ring up the sale and give her ten per cent off,’ she directed Charles. He didn’t even open his mouth to question the order.
It seemed to take forever as he typed the numbers into the computer.
‘That’s…’ he looked at the figures on the till screen a second time, like he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
‘Sixty-one pounds twenty-five.’ Nicola did the maths quickly in her head.
‘A bag costs five p,’ Shelley said, unhelpfully.
Both Nicola and, to his credit, Charles, glared at her. ‘Never mind about that,’ he said.
The woman took out her card, put it in the machine and typed in her pin. ‘Are you going to be donating any more lovely clothes to this shop?’ she asked Nicola. ‘I might come round again next weekend.’
‘Maybe,’ Nicola mused. ‘So far, doing a clear-out has been quite… liberating.’
‘I’m sure.’ The woman smiled.
With a pout on her face, Shelley started to shove the woman’s purchases in the bag. Nicola stopped her and made her fold the dress and the wrap properly. The woman took the bag of lingerie and shoved it underneath the pram.
‘Thank you for stopping by,’ Nicola said to the woman. She went to the door and held it open for her.
‘Oh, you’re welcome. Thank you. And Happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas,’ Nicola returned, without hesitation.
As soon as the woman was gone, she went back to Charles and Shelley at the till to retrieve her coat.
‘I’m off then,’ she said. ‘Good luck – I think you’re going to need it.’
Shelley rolled her eyes, but Charles came forward from behind the till. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘That sale was more than we make most days.’
‘Well, that needs fixing,’ Nicola said. ‘You’ve got to put in more effort.’
‘Do um… you want to come back?’ he said. ‘Help out with some volunteering?’
‘I’m not going to commit to anything,’ Nicola said. ‘But I will come back sometime soon and drop off more stuff.’
‘OK,’ Charles said. ‘Thanks for that.’ He suddenly peered at Nicola in a way that made her quite uncomfortable. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘you look familiar. Do I know you?’
She laughed. ‘I may not remember names, but I can absolutely assure you that we have never met.’
‘No, I don’t mean that.’ He met her eyes boldly. ‘It’s just I have seen you before. At Waterloo Station. And then again on the Richmond train.’
It was Nicola’s turn to be mortified. It was all too terrible to contemplate. ‘Are you saying that…?’
‘I’m in the choir. At St Anne’s. Yes – your hair is different, but I’m sure it was you.’
‘You definitely have me mistaken for someone else,’ Nicola said, moving swiftly to the door. ‘Goodbye.’