On the plane back from Copenhagen, Pam and Zee spent the flight eagerly making plans and writing lists.
‘How about one of those house-swap holidays?’ suggested Zee.
‘Good thought! I have no idea how you go about it, but definitely put it on the list.’
‘Camping? That’s cheap and cheerful.’
‘Oh good grief, spare me! Cheap, yes, cheerful, no. I always need the loo in the middle of the night and there’s nothing cheerful about trudging across a field in your PJs in the dark trying not to tread in a cowpat or rick your ankle in a rabbit hole! Plus the loos are always full of spiders!’
‘True,’ admitted Zee with a slight shiver. ‘Glamping, then?’
‘Oooh, yes, in a yurt!’ Pam mentally conjured up a lavishly furnished bell tent with a four poster bed, Persian carpets and a wood burning stove.
‘I can see you in a yurt.’
‘So can I,’ enthused Pam, adding richly decorated floor cushions, a sumptuous meal laid on a low wooden table and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket.
‘Although I don’t think they have toilets. Plenty of room for a bucket, though!’ teased Zee, instantly popping Pam’s glamorous fantasy.
By the time the plane landed at Bristol they’d compiled an encouragingly lengthy To Do list and they both were looking forward to working their way down it over the coming weeks and months.
An hour so later, opening her front door, Pam braced herself for the inevitable wave of oppressive silence and emptiness to engulf her. But, stepping inside, she was immediately struck by its absence. What greeted her instead was a companionable silence, the kind you share with an old friend and although she dismissed it as a fanciful notion, it felt as if the house itself was welcoming her back. Going into the living room, she cast her eye over the furniture, comforted by its familiar, solid presence then, sinking down onto the sofa, she put her feet up and gave herself a few moments to enjoy the profound pleasure of being home.
The following morning, after a leisurely breakfast, she showered and dressed. On the spur of the moment, she decided that a long walk with Charley and that bubbly idiot of a cockerpoo of hers would be fun. Never wanting to arrive unannounced or at an inconvenient moment, she picked up the phone, then she faltered, fearing she might be gate-crashing her daughter-in-law’s only day off. She can always say ‘no’, she told herself, and dialled her number. Then, having been assured that Charley would ‘absolutely love’ her go round, she gathered up the souvenir gift she’d bought her daughter-in-law in Copenhagen and headed over. Driving along, she eagerly ran over in her mind everything she had to tell Charley about her holiday, wondering whether to start with the highlights or whether to relate everything chronologically, leaving the best, the boat trip, ’til last.
At soon as Charley opened the front door, Bubbles hurled himself at Pam to give her an ecstatic welcome, whimpering in pleasure and bouncing up at her joyously.
‘Your tail will fall off it you wag it that much!’ Pam warned him.
‘I’m more worried he’s going to pee himself in excitement!’ said Charley. ‘Come in if you can get in!’ she laughed, trying to pull the energetic mutt out of the way. ‘Off! Get down, you great lump!’ she yelled, then, giving up, she reached over him to give Pam a warm hug.
‘How was Copenhagen?’ she asked as Pam followed her inside.
‘Wonderful. Amazing. In fact, life-changing!’ Barely pausing for breath, Pam launched into a full and comprehensive account of her trip, waxing lyrical for the best part of an hour, while Charley made coffee, listened attentively, and then made more coffee, until Pam realised she’d bombarded her daughter-in-law continuously, barely giving the poor young woman a chance to get a word in edgeways.
‘Enough of me!’ she cried. ‘In fact, more than enough! How’s everything with you?’ she asked, stressing the last word.
Charley sighed and looked heavenwards as if not knowing quite where to start. ‘Well… pretty much everything is going horribly, horribly wrong.’ She looked so utterly dejected that Pam’s buoyant mood instantly evaporated. ‘Tara’s walked out of the shop and isn’t talking to me because Angie’s been getting all the money from her artwork, whereas I haven’t paid Tara a penny for all the months she’s been working with me…’ Oh dear, thought Pam. ‘So Tara thinks I’m treating Angie better than her and, bottom line, she thinks I’m better mates with Angie than I am with her.’ She’s probably right there. Charley carried on, ‘Nisha says I should renegotiate the deal with Angie, which will upset Angie and probably stop her doing her art altogether.’ Now that would be a shame. ‘The bloody dog is a nightmare in the shop and actually ran off to go and play with Carlo so Ricky had to bring him back, which was excruciatingly embarrassing. Plus, it meant Ricky gave me an update on selling his business and it looks like he’s sold it already and he will probably be gone in a month,’ finished Charley.
‘A month?’ queried Pam, suddenly sitting forward.
‘Yes. And I’m not ready for that… I’m just so not ready for that,’ admitted Charley in a strained voice, seeming close to tears.
‘Oh, sweetheart,’ said Pam. Then, in an attempt to prevent Charley from going into a full meltdown, which wasn’t going to help solve anything, she lightened her tone. ‘So, just a few hiccups to sort out, then?’
Charley managed a small smile. ‘Just a few.’
Pam was silent for couple of moments, marshalling her thoughts and deciding in which order to tackle Charley’s disasters.
‘Very few things are irredeemable, Charley,’ she started sagely. ‘Let’s start with the shop. Why don’t you ask Angie if you can have a cut of the sale price of her artwork? I’m sure she’ll understand and, if my memory serves me right, I think she even offered to give you one right at the beginning.’
Charley nodded. ‘She did, and she offered again a few weeks back.’
‘So why are you reluctant to take it?’ Her daughter-in-law didn’t reply, so Pam ventured, ‘Is it pride? Having to admit you made a mistake when you arranged the deal?’
‘No. I just don’t want to make money out of a mate!’ replied Charley.
‘But isn’t that just what you’re doing with Tara?’ said Pam carefully.
‘Yes, but no…’ protested Charley. ‘When I opened the shop Tara said she’d be happy to work for nothing. For fun. And besides, she doesn’t need the money. She and Baz are pretty comfortably off. Even when she worked at the Avalon it was only very part-time and the pay was pitiful.’
Pam felt she could detect not just a flaw in Charley’s logic, but a flaw in her perception and understanding of the relative needs of her friends.
‘Why does that mean Tara doesn’t need to be paid?’ she queried. ‘And why do you assume Angie needs paying more than Tara does?’
‘For two reasons,’ argued Charley, counting them off on her fingers. ‘One, she’s got four kids, and two, Will treats her artwork like it’s just a hobby, so she needs to be paid to give it… status, and so she has a reason to prioritise doing her paintings over looking after the kids. She needs her work to be valued.’
‘I can understand that, but Tara needs her work to be valued too,’ Pam pointed out gently. ‘We all need our work to be valued, surely?’ Then she fell silent as she watched a look of sinking realisation followed by remorse slide onto Charley’s face.
‘Bloody, bloody hell. I have so messed up.’ Charley sank her head into her hands. ‘And now I’m going to lose Tara as a mate.’
‘I honestly don’t think you will, darling. Your friendship means a lot to Tara, and she won’t want to jeopardise it any more than you do. But she does need to feel that you value her, and her role in the shop.’
Charley’s face shot up to look at Pam. ‘I do… I want to… but she constantly criticises me, and she keeps trying to… to take over, make changes and run things her way. And it’s my bloody shop!’ she finished hotly.
Ah, so that’s the root of the problem, thought Pam. It was undeniably true that Tara had a tendency to dominate things and to boss people around, it was in her nature. But what was also true was that the woman had a heart of gold, the best of intentions, good business sense, a great sales technique and an MBA.
‘Let me ask you something,’ said Pam. ‘Do you think the things Tara has suggested and the changes she wants to make will improve the way you’re running the shop at the moment?’ When Charley didn’t answer she prompted, ‘Will they make you more money? Will the shop be more successful?’ She waited patiently through an uncomfortable silence, during which Charley evaded her gaze. ‘Be honest,’ she prompted again.
Charley slumped back in her seat and Pam could almost see her home truths hitting their marks.
‘Yes,’ admitted Charley finally.
‘Then I refer you to my earlier note about valuing her role in the shop,’ said Pam. ‘Forgive me for saying so, my darling, but you would be a complete idiot not to take advantage of Tara’s considerable business knowledge and her outstanding selling skills.’
‘I am an idiot.’
Pam shook her head. ‘No, you’re not. But you have to sit down, the two of you, and figure out how to work together, in partnership, rather than in some sort of competition.’
‘She’ll walk all over me,’ groaned Charley.
‘Probably,’ agreed Pam. ‘So ask Nisha to mediate the meeting.’
Charley perked up instantly at the suggestion. ‘And I think you should be there as well,’ she told Pam. ‘You’re a business partner too.’
‘Is that so that I can help you outvote Tara?’
‘No!’ cried Charley. Pam shot her a look. ‘Well, yes,’ she accepted sheepishly.
‘Don’t bank on it,’ Pam warned her with a grin. ‘If Tara has a good idea, I’ll very probably get behind it.’ Then, looking fondly down at Bubbles sprawled at her feet, she added fondly, ‘And as for the “bloody dog being a nightmare in the shop”, I suspect he’s probably just bored, stuck there all day.’
‘There’s nothing I can do about that! I can’t leave him at home and I really don’t want to take him back to the rescue centre.’
‘I know, so why don’t you drop Bubbles at my house in the mornings and I’ll bring him in with me at lunch time? That way I can give him a really good, long walk and a run around the garden and knacker him out so he’ll spend most of the afternoons sleeping. On Saturdays, of course, he’ll have to be in the shop all day, but perhaps we could both nip out in the quiet spells and take him for a walk round the block.’
Charley was already shaking her head. ‘I can’t ask you to take on Bubbles as well as everything else you do for me. He’s my responsibility.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a pig-headed martyr!’ exclaimed Pam.
Charley blinked at her, apparently speechless at her outburst. It wasn’t surprising. Pam rarely challenged anyone so directly, and especially not her daughter-in-law. ‘I want to look after Bubbles. It’s a win-win for me! I get the daft sod’s company and an excuse for getting lots of exercise, but without the food and vet bills.’
‘If that’s what you really want…’
‘It is,’ insisted Pam.
So Charley caved.
When it came to Ricky, Pam only had one, firm piece of advice. One that would brook no argument or invite any debate.
‘The reason you’re not ready for Ricky to leave in a month is that you will never be ready for him to leave you. Tell him how you feel, now, before it’s too late.’
Charley looked as if she were about to protest but Pam held up her hand to stop her. ‘You didn’t choose to lose Josh, darling, but you are choosing to lose Ricky.’