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Authors: Kelly McKain

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BOOK: Peppermint Kiss
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I felt sick, realizing that it wasn't just the present that had gone, but the future as well. I desperately wished I could just wave a magic wand and make everything alright, but I couldn't.

“Oh, Abbie, I could brain that man!” Mum cried suddenly. “Why did he have to break everything? How could he do this to us?” Then she stopped just as suddenly and sighed. “I promised myself I wouldn't get into all this with you girls, especially not you, Abs. You're too young to deal with it. I'll end up making you all bitter and twisted.”

I leaned over the back of her chair and put my arms round her shoulders. “I'm glad you're talking to me,” I told her. “You know you always can. I'm not too young to understand.”

Mum shook her head. “No. It's not on. I'm the mother. I should be asking you how
you're
doing. How
are
you doing?”

For a moment I thought about sharing my feelings with her. But I decided that she had enough problems to focus on, and besides, it felt like if I started talking about it I'd never stop. So I just said, “I'm fine, really.”

“You always were the strong one, Abbie,” Mum said then, and for some reason I felt as queasy as when Saff had said it, during our welly-throwing session after the car was taken. Mum picked up her engagement ring and held it in her palm. “It's time for me to be strong too. I know what to do with this now. We need to start again, and this ring could be the key to our future.”

“You're selling it?”

She nodded and I felt a rush of relief. We weren't going to be out on the street – not this week anyway. And if she got a good price, well, maybe we had a shot at making my business idea work.

Then, with a lot of tugging and twisting, she took her wedding ring off too. “There's no point wearing this any more either. I'll keep it, though. One of you girls might want it one day.”

I couldn't help laughing. “None of us even have boyfriends yet.”

Mum smiled. “No rush on that score,” she said. “The last thing I need right now is three hysterical lovesick teenagers rampaging round the flat.”

“Don't worry. I can't see that scenario happening any time soon. Not in my case, anyway,” I told her.

“Listen, don't say anything to Saff and Grace about the ring, will you, till I've done it?” Mum said. “I don't want to get their hopes up about staying if I can't sell it before our delightful landlord gets back tomorrow.”

I grinned at her. “My lips are sealed.”

We had a big hug then and I said goodnight. And when I got back into bed, the sticky-out mattress bits didn't seem so bad, somehow.

On Wednesday, Grace and I walked home together after school. Saff met up with us halfway and she was all buzzed up. She'd been on a new intake open day at the college and although she was nervous about whether she'd get a place (she was sure she hadn't passed
any
of her GSCEs), she was really excited too. She told us all about it as we walked back to the flat.

“I've made friends with this girl Emily who's applying too – we're meeting up in town tomorrow. And Sally, who teaches a lot of Level One, is really nice. I know I wasn't keen at first, but I think this course could be perfect for me after all. If I take the make-up option from Level Two onwards, we'll be doing TV and film and special effects and stuff. Or if I go down the massage route, in Level Three we get to do complementary therapies, like Indian Head Massage.”

“Ewww!” squealed Grace. “How horrible! Rubbing someone's yucky head! That's about as gross as being a dentist or a podiatrist!”

“No it isn't!” Saff snapped. “And anyway, I'll give you dentist – I couldn't bear staring into people's mouths all day – but children? What's wrong with
them
?”

“Podiatrists are for
feet
, you idiot,” Grace said haughtily. “Children is
paediatrician
.”

“I
know
that,” Saff said witheringly. “I
was
joking.”

“Yeah right,” Grace said, looking smug. “Anyway, get real, Saff. You're going on about Level Three but, in case you've forgotten, we probably won't even be here
next week
. We've got no money, remember? Our benefits are on their way but they'll be too late. We're getting kicked out on the street
tonight
and goodness knows where we'll end up.”

Saff looked wide-eyed at Grace like she actually
had
forgotten. It was amazing how she seemed to be able to switch things on and off in her head, just like that. I bit my lip. I knew I'd promised Mum not to say anything about our chat the night before, but Saff looked so scared…

My sisters were completely deflated as we reached the flat, and as we trooped up the stairs I vowed to make Mum tell them about selling the ring, the minute we got in. But I didn't have to, because we walked into the kitchen and…

“Woah!” they gasped at once.

Mum was sitting at the table behind a huge pile of cash and, weirdly, a plate of carefully arranged Viscount biscuits.

“Oh my God, did you rob a bank?” Saff cried. “There's, like, a million quid there.”

Grace gave her a withering look and was just about to speak when Mum said, “Nine and a half thousand actually. I could have got more but I didn't have much bargaining power because I needed the money on the spot.”

“But how…?” Grace began.

“I sold my engagement ring,” said Mum.

“Mum!” Grace shrieked. “That's supposed to be a family heirloom! And anyway, what were you thinking, walking round town with that kind of cash on you? You could have been mugged!”

“Grace, calm down!” Mum cried. “Liam was here doing the skirting board and he drove me to the jeweller's. I'm glad I had him with me too, because they were only offering eight thousand to start with and he talked them up.”

Meanwhile, the wheels in Saff's brain had been turning. “Yes! Get in!” she whooped suddenly. “Now we're loaded, I can still go up to London for my singing lessons, and get a whole new wardrobe, and—”

“We are
not
loaded,” Mum said firmly. “This is for our
rent
.” Then she smiled, and winked at me. “And our new business.”

I absolutely screamed then. “Really? We've got enough money?” I shrieked.

Mum nodded. “Just.”

I threw myself at her and hugged her tight. “That's amazing! Oh, that's fantastic!” I felt in shock, like I couldn't take it in.

Grace and Saff gaped at her. “Seriously?” Grace gasped.

“We're actually doing it?” cried Saff.

Mum grinned. “Yep. We'll have to be really, really strict with the budget, though.” She slapped Saff's hand away from the biscuit plate. “And don't touch those, they're for Mr. Vulmer.”

“What?” Grace snarled. “We can't let that man in here, not after how threatening he was to us last week! We should have called the police!”

Mum grimaced. “Oh, come on, Grace, that's a bit overdramatic,” she said. “He didn't threaten us, and it's true we haven't paid him a penny as yet, so I'm not surprised he's annoyed. But, in case you've forgotten, we need to rent the shop downstairs from him to make any of this happen. It'll take a major charm offensive to get him to agree to let us have it with our tiny budget, so that's what we're going to do.”

Mum glanced at her watch and leaped up. “Oh goodness, we've only got ten minutes. Quick, give me a hand to tidy up.”

I did say that trying to tidy up was a bit pointless because the flat actually looked better with our stuff strewn around it, covering up the grossness. But Mum gave me such an exasperated look that I picked up our bags and the growing pile of recycling on the kitchen counter and shoved it all in the bathroom.

The doorbell rang and then there was the scratching of a key in the lock. Mum took a deep breath and smoothed down her blouse and skirt. “Remember, girls – charm offensive,” she said sternly and then swished off into the hallway.

“Do come in,” we heard her say in her poshest voice.

“I will, seeing as it's my flat,” Mr. Vulmer replied gruffly, wheezing his way up the hall and into the kitchen. We all stood in a line by the table, smiling, trying not to look alarmed by the scarily-bright palm-tree-patterned shirt he was wearing. We said a cheery “hello” in unison, but Mr. Vulmer ignored us. He'd clocked the pile of bank notes on the table, though. We'd put most of it away, for the business (well, fingers crossed), but the rest sat enticingly in front of him.

“Do sit down,” said Mum. “The kettle's on.”

Mr. Vulmer sneered. “I'm not stopping. I'm just here to collect my money.” He reached out for the cash but Mum moved it to one side and offered him the plate instead. “Biscuit?” she offered, with a stuck-on smile. “You look like a Viscount man to me. You know, classy.”

Mr. Vulmer peered at her suspiciously. “I prefer a digestive actually. I can't be doing with fiddly wrappers.”

“You could do with staying off
all
biscuits or you'll be heading for a heart attack,” Saff advised.

Oh dear. When Mum said “charm offensive”, Saff seemed to have only heard the “offensive” part.

Luckily, Mum sent her down to the shop sharpish for some digestives, and then started telling Mr. Vulmer about how much we liked the flat, now we'd got used to it, and how well Grace and I had settled in at school here. She also went on about what a wonderful town it was, as though Mr. Vulmer was personally responsible for the gorgeous old buildings, quirky little shops and beautiful open spaces of Totnes. Then she broached the subject of our business idea.

Usually, Mum can charm anyone – traffic wardens, waiters, shop assistants, you name it – but it wasn't working on our landlord. And when she said we could only give him a hundred a week for the flat and fifty to rent the shop unit, he actually
snorted
in disbelief. “That's a prime retail space – I could ask two-fifty a week!” he wheezed. “And as for the flat, we said one-fifty. It's not up for negotiation.”

I really started to worry then, and Mum looked panicked too. If
she
couldn't persuade him, what hope did the rest of us have?

But there was one force we hadn't reckoned on: Grace. She'd been silent the entire time, and I thought she'd just been sulking about the whole calling-the-police thing. But no. She'd been listening to every word, and thinking, and now she struck.

She fixed him with an intense stare. “I know you're a shrewd man, Mr. Vulmer,” she began. “A man of business. A man of property. A man who is not going to be sweet-talked by biscuits. Not even digestives.”

“Oh, what?” cried Saff, as she walked back in, biscuit packet in hand. “So I went all that way for no reason?”

Grace shot her a
shut up
look and returned her attention to Mr. Vulmer. “The fact that so far you have been uninterested in our offer…well, we obviously haven't explained the proposition clearly enough, which is our fault and we apologize. If we had, a man as astute as yourself would have given it more consideration.” She leaned forward across the table and fixed him with an intense look. “You say you could rent the shop unit out for two hundred and fifty a week, and yet it's obviously been empty for a long time.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, hard times, innit?”

“By accepting our offer, you'll be getting security for your property against vandalism, and safety from squatters whom, as I'm sure you're aware, can take months and thousands in legal fees to get rid of.”

He snorted again. “You lot
are
the bloomin' squatters. I just want my rent, that's all, or you'll be out on the street. Today.”

Mum and Saff flinched at that, and I felt my stomach flip over, but Grace continued without a flicker of emotion. “Not to mention keeping the place warm, so it won't fall down with damp or crumble away with dry rot. The shop fit will add thousands in value to
your
property and we're not asking you for a penny towards it. It's a no-risk situation. You could have both the shop and this flat secure, with no hassle at all and almost two grand in your pocket, as payment up front for the next three months. Cash.” She picked up the wodge of money and wafted it in his face. He stared at it, like a snake being charmed. She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Frankly, Mr. Vulmer,
you
should be paying
us
.”

Saff's forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Well, hang on, why isn't he then?”

Grace shot her another
shut up
look and fanned herself with the bank notes, trying to look nonchalant. We all waited, hardly daring to breathe.

“Fine, okay, deal,” he said gruffly.

Grace shouted “Yes!”, then composed herself and added, “I'm so pleased we could come to an agreement.” Mr. Vulmer reached for the money but she drew it back. “There must be contracts first, of course,” she said imperiously. “I'll get a standard Assured Shorthold Tenancy agreement off the net for the flat, and find out what we need for the shop.”

For a second it looked like he was going to argue, but he was defenceless against the force of Grace Green.

“And if you could just pop the keys for the shop over later that would be great,” Mum said, stepping in again. “We need to get in and look at the state of everything, so we can start planning the refit.”

“I've got them here,” he said, rummaging in his pocket and dropping the keys into Mum's hand. She looked at them in disbelief, lying in her palm just as her ring had been last night – as if she'd magically transformed one into the other.

“Excellent,” said Grace, taking over again. “Mum,
and Liam
,” she added pointedly, “can drop the contracts in to you tomorrow and settle up. Nice doing business with you.”

“And you, ladies,” grunted Mr. Vulmer. He reached for the digestives but Saff whipped the packet away and Grace bustled him out the door. Mum and I just stood there, staring at each other and grinning.

As soon as my sisters came back in we all hit the roof with excitement, jumping round the kitchen in a huddle and screaming, “YEEEEEEEEEEES!”

Grace was absolutely glowing as we all went on about how amazing she'd been. We got into complete hysterics when Saff whipped off Grace's glasses, put them on and did an impression of her leaning across the table and saying, “Frankly, Mr. Vulmer,
you
should be paying
us
.”

“I can't believe it!” gasped Mum, when we'd finally got our breath back.

“We're really doing it!” I cried. “It was just an idea, but now it's going to be real. We're actually creating our own business! We're making our dreams come true!”

I could see it in my mind: the gorgeous treatment rooms, thick soft towels, vases of bright flowers. I could hear the relaxing music…smell the luxurious fresh face masks and body creams…taste the delicious juices and smoothies…

Five minutes later, we were all stood under the single fizzling light bulb in the filthy, dingy shop unit. It felt less like we were making our dreams come true and more like we'd made the worst mistake of our lives.

Mum picked her way through the broken dust-covered desks and swivel chairs that filled our reception/shop/smoothie bar to remove a faded (and, as Grace pointed out, extremely sexist) calendar from the wall. The torn, yellowed posters of people with perms and big shoulder pads sipping cocktails on exotic balconies told us that it had once been a travel agency. Our gorgeous luxury treatment rooms were two vile back offices with curled-up brochures strewn all over the stained, fuzzy carpet and striped eighties paper peeling off the walls. The little kitchen was beyond unhygienic and as for the loo…urgh, I didn't even want to
think
about it.

BOOK: Peppermint Kiss
13.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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