Never Can Say Goodbye (12 page)

Frankie blinked. Just her and John Major then? ‘I’ve never really liked grey. I prefer bright colours.’

‘Big mistake,’ Cherish sighed. ‘Bright colours stifle your true personality. You’ll never find happiness and success until
you match your colours to your soul. And your soul, dear, is totally grey.’

Oh, great, Frankie thought.

‘Well, there you go.’ Biddy twitched excitedly at Frankie. ‘That’s where you’ve been going wrong, isn’t it? Stop wearing
all those primaries and start wearing shades of grey. It’ll transform your life.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ Frankie muttered.

Cherish beamed.

Biddy twitched a bit more. ‘Told you she was good, didn’t I? Now, what I thought was if Cherish stationed herself over there
by the fitting rooms, she could nab people as they went in, have a look at what they’d chosen and put them straight.’

‘And I’d work freelance,’ Cherish said enthusiastically. ‘I’ll be like a sub-contractor. You wouldn’t have to pay me. The
customers would do that.’

If there were any customers left after Cherish’s downbeat and screamingly awful advice, Frankie thought bleakly. She upped
the professional smile. ‘Well, it’s very kind of you to offer, and of course, maybe when the shop is a bit more established
I might be interested in adding different aspects, but right now I’m still feeling my way and—’

‘Are you turning Cherish down?’ Biddy looked scandalised.

‘Yes. Sorry. It’s just not for me at the moment, I’m afraid.’

‘If you don’t take her now, then Dorothy Perkins in Winterbrook’ll be snapping her hands off.’ Biddy blinked furiously. ‘I
knew Rita was making a mistake leaving you in charge of this place. You don’t know a good thing when you see it. You’ll run
Rita’s lovely little shop into the ground afore Easter at this rate.’

‘Shall I just leave my business cards here on the counter, dear?’ Cherish looked hopeful. ‘Even if I can’t actually work in
here at the moment, you might like to recommend me. I do most of my work from home anyway.’

‘Er, yes, OK.’ Frankie squinted doubtfully at the pile of dog-eared DIY business cards. ‘Just leave them there. That’s lovely.’

Biddy and Cherish elbowed their way through the shop, pausing to look at selection of pastel puffballs. Frankie somehow couldn’t
see Biddy in a puffball …

‘What was all that about?’ Lilly broke off from serving at the other end of the counter and dumped another armful of purple
and gold carrier bags in a slithery heap. ‘I didn’t quite catch it.’

‘Oh, just Biddy the misery introducing Cherish her colour advisor. Cherish wants to work here telling people that they’re
all insipid and boring and must match their colours to their inner selves. She says I’m a grey winter person, apparently.’

Lilly shrieked with laughter. ‘You are so funny. I could never come up with a story like that in a million years. You have
such a great imagination. Oh Lord, there’s Big Stacey from Londis looking through the size six Bibas. I was at school with
her and she’s never been less than a generous twenty. We’ve got some lovely kaftans that would do her a treat. Are you going
to tell her or am I?’

Frankie shook her head. ‘Let’s leave it to Clemmie and Amber, shall we? They’re on style advice. We’re on serving only. OK,
who’s next please … ’

From the corner of her eye, Frankie watched Biddy and Cherish move mercifully away from the puffballs and start to push their
way through the crowd towards the door. She scooped up Cherish’s business cards and was about to drop them in the bin when
Biddy turned round and scuttled back to the counter and stared at the handful of cards.

‘Oh, um, I was just going to put them somewhere safe.’

Biddy’s nose twitched. ‘Good, but what I meant to say earlier was I’ve been to see Maisie Fairbrother. She’s still in
a state of traumatisation. And she still maintains this place is haunted. And despite the nay-sayers in this village, I know
for a fact that Maisie’s never wrong when she’s got an inkling of spirit infestation. So you watch your step, my girl. You
needs Maisie in here to lay your ghosts, you do, before you’ve got more trouble in this shop than you know what to do with.’

Eventually, as the winter darkness fell, and the fog swirled murkily across the market square, the crowds disappeared. It
had been a truly spectacular day. Frankie, utterly exhausted, shut the door, turned the sign to CLOSED, then leaned against
the counter and thanked Rita from the bottom of her heart.

Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks was established. It was up to her now to continue to make the business work. And she could do
it. After today, she knew she could do it. Although, she thought drowsily, she may well need to employ an assistant – even
just a part-time one – especially over the Christmas period if they were going to be this busy.

Frankie grinned happily to herself. When and if she employed someone, it definitely wouldn’t be Biddy.

Lilly, Clemmie, Amber and Sukie had already staggered across the fairy-lit cobbles, through the wraithlike fog, to toast their
involvement in the success in the Toad in the Hole. Phoebe, who was planning on having a cosy night in with her
other half, Rocky, had made her excuses because of the worsening weather, and driven home to Hazy Hassocks.

‘They’re doing three Jägerbombs for a fiver tonight in the Toad!’ Lilly had announced happily as she’d click-clacked towards
the door. ‘Shall I get you some in?’

‘No thanks.’ Frankie had shaken her head. ‘Sorry to be a pooper, but honestly once I’ve locked up here, all I’ll be fit for
is a hot bath, a hot chocolate and bed.’

‘You are getting sooo old,’ Lilly had giggled. ‘Where’s that party animal I used to know and love?’

‘Turned into a boring old fart,’ Frankie had chuckled. ‘A really boring old fart with her own business. And how can you face
Jaegerbombs after your close encounter with the Woo Woos not that long ago?’

‘Easily. Especially if Dexter’s there to share them with.’

‘Well, he won’t be. He shut the flower stall down dead on five and went off with Ginny from the Greasy Spoon.’

‘Bugger. Did he?’ Lilly’s face had fallen. ‘How do you know?’

‘Because I watched him go,’ Frankie had said smiling. ‘He waved and gave me the thumbs-up.’

‘Oh, well. His loss. Expect me when you see me then. I might just have one quick drink with the girls in the Toad, then leave
my car here, grab a taxi and go into Winterbrook.’ Lilly had tottered back across the empty shop and thrown her arms round
Frankie. ‘You’ve been ace today. Done so well. You must have made a fortune. I’m really, really proud of you.’

‘Thanks.’ Frankie had hugged her back. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you, though. You were all really great.’

‘That’s what friends are for.’ Lilly had wriggled free. ‘Now
I’m going to be a young free and single girlie about town, while you turn into Mrs Cosy Slippers. Don’t wait up.’

And Lilly had clattered off out of the door and across the cobbles in the gloom.

Frankie looked wearily around the shop. The rails were pleasingly depleted – and in an awful mess. She really should tidy
them up then go upstairs to the stockroom and sort out replacement dresses ready for Monday morning. She should, but she knew
she wouldn’t. She was far, far too tired. She’d come in tomorrow when she’d had a good night’s sleep and the shop was empty
and she could concentrate properly. And much as Lilly might disapprove, all she really, really wanted was the bath and the
frothy chocolate and bed.

Making sure the safe was locked, and all the lights and plugs in the kitchen were switched off, Frankie hurried into the shop
and reached for her bright pink coat and selection of lilac and blue scarves. Grey person indeed. Huh!

She paused for a moment and buried her nose in the flowers Dexter had brought. Fabulous. Rich and heady. Should she take them
home? No, she thought, winding the last of her scarves round her throat: the flowers, bright and gaudy, belonged in the shop.

‘Bright and gaudy – just like me, Cherish,’ she said out loud, reaching for the light switch. ‘Exactly like me.’

‘Excuse me.’

The voice suddenly echoing through the emptiness made Frankie stop stock-still. Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow but
couldn’t. Speech wasn’t an option either.

‘Excuse me, duck,’ the little grizzle-haired man stood between the now denuded 50s and 60s frock sections. ‘Sorry. I didn’t
mean to startle you – again.’

Frankie stared at him. She worked saliva into her mouth. ‘Well, you did. Dear God, you really scared me. Why do you keep doing
this? Coming in at the wrong time? I’m so sorry, but I’ve just closed up for the night. You should have been here earlier.
I did look out for you.’

‘I was here, duck, but you were too busy to see me. You’ve done nicely today, I’d say. It was very crowded, wasn’t it?’

‘It was,’ Frankie agreed. ‘But you didn’t buy, er, the dress you said you wanted, did you? Or did Lilly serve you?’

No, as soon as she’d said it she knew Lilly would have told her. With a lot of wide eyes and gestures and exaggerated giggling.

‘No, duck. It’s still here. No one bought it today.’

‘Oh, good.’

‘They stole it from me, you know.’

‘I’m sure whoever they are, didn’t. We don’t deal in stolen goods,’ Frankie said firmly. ‘I’m sure whichever dress it is that
has taken your fancy was donated honestly by its owner.’

‘No.’ The little man shook his head sadly. ‘It wasn’t. It was mine and they stole it.’

Frankie sighed. She was too weary to argue. ‘Who did?’

‘Thelma and Louise.’

Oh Lordy … Frankie closed her eyes. However sweet he was, she was far too tired to deal with some mad old cross-dressing pensioner
living in fantasy land tonight. Maybe it was best to humour him.

‘Really? That was naughty of them.’

‘Naughty? It was downright bloody wicked!’

‘Well, yes. Stealing is wicked, of course. And because this Thelma and Louise stole – allegedly, stole – the frock from you
and must have donated it here, you want it back?’

‘Yes, but –’ he shook his grizzled head ‘– it weren’t
my
frock, duck. I don’t wear frocks. I ain’t no Danny La Rue.’

Not a cross-dresser then. Just barking.

He looked anxiously at Frankie. ‘It belonged to my wife. She’s gone now. Dead.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘Ah, me too, duck. I thought I’d be joining her soon but it don’t seem like that’s going to happen.’

‘Oh, don’t say that! It must be awful for you, of course, but life does go on. Honestly. My gran eventually managed to have
quite a nice life after Grandpa died. She joined clubs and went on trips and—’

‘I tried that, duck, but it ain’t no fun any more. I just want her dress back. Let me show you which one it is.’

‘Ok.’ Despite her tiredness, Frankie felt desperately sorry for the lonely old man. She’d switch on the till for him and just
make one last sale. ‘And then I’ve got to lock up and you really must go.’

Frankie followed him to the 1950s rails and watched as he pointed to a cream silk shantung dress. It was very Audrey Hepburn:
slim-fitting, sleeveless, high waisted with a flamboyant bow.

‘It’s very pretty.’

‘She wore it on our wedding day.’ His eyes grew distant. ‘And she had a cream rose in her hair. Her hair was as dark as yours
back then, duck. Beautiful she was.’

‘She must have been.’ Frankie suddenly wanted to hug him. So what if he was slightly deranged and a bit deluded? He wanted
his wife’s wedding dress back again. It had huge sentimental value. What was so wrong with that?

‘I was only seventeen when I met her at the village hop over
in Tadpole Bridge, and we were wed when I was twenty-one. We had fifty wonderfully happy years together.’

Frankie sighed. She’d have to give him the frock, she knew she would. She couldn’t ask him to pay for it – however it had
turned up in the shop, he had every right to want it back, didn’t he?

‘Nineteen forty-six it were.’ He looked at her. ‘Just after the war ended. Things were just getting back to normal. It was
nice to have the village dances and that after all the misery. I went over to Tadpole Bridge with a couple of pals. They always
had a good band over at Tadpole Bridge village hall. A proper little dance band, you know?’

Frankie, whose understanding of dance music was clearly light years away from his, nodded anyway.

‘Ah, it was a right good do. A smashing band with a couple of singers – crooners we called ’em back then. Anyway, I saw her
as soon as I walked in. Beautiful, she was. Standing there in her pretty red and white frock, her hair like black silk. She
was with some friends but I didn’t notice any of them. Just her.’

Frankie, still just wanting to go home and sleep, could sense his deep sadness. It wouldn’t hurt her to listen to him for
a little while, would it? Not if it helped him?

‘And did she notice you, too?’

‘Not straight away, duck. I was right shy, and she was so lovely, I just sort of stared at her, with my heart going like billyo.
My pals were straight over to the girls and asking them to dance, you know, but not me. I hung back. Anyway, she just shook
her head when anyone asked her to dance. My pals danced with her pals. They were jiving a bit – and I was never any great
shakes at that, but the girls loved it. The GIs had taught ’em all the moves when they were stationed over here,
see. And then the band started to play “Twilight Time”, and everyone stopped jitterbugging and I could see her across the
floor … ’

‘So,’ Frankie asked, seeing this all unfolding in her mind like an old black and white movie, ‘you plucked up the courage
to ask her to dance, did you?’

‘Ah.’ He grinned. ‘I did. And I was shaking like a leaf I can tell you. Why she’d dance with me when she’d turned my pals
down, I wasn’t sure. But I had to ask her. I loved her, you see.’

‘But you didn’t even know her.’

‘No, duck. I didn’t need to. Love at first sight it were for me. I knew there and then that she was the only girl for me.
And if she turned me down then I’d be alone for the rest of me life.’