The Chic Boutique On Baker Street. Rachel Dove

If the week went on like this, she would be spending her free time making voodoo dolls to stick pins into.

       Five

      Amanda awoke on Thursday morning to the sound of birdsong coming in through her open bedroom window. As always, it took her a little while to adjust to where she was, and resist the urge to dive out of bed and check her emails from work. Smiling, she thumbed through her hangers, settling on a pleated cream skirt that swished as she walked, and a thin cream camisole with embroidered flowers around the dipped neckline. She looked down at her shoes, all lined up in the bottom of the wardrobe, spying her green suede pumps with dismay. She hadn’t been able to get the blood out, yet she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away either. They sat there, among her other footwear, a little reminder of the day she had met Ben. Not the best memory, it had to be said, but she left the shoes sitting with their buddies all the same. Cringing at her own sentimentality, she picked up a similar pair, this time in a light grey colour, and slipped them onto her bare feet.

      A quick brush of her hair, a slick of dusty pink lip gloss, and she was dressed. Looking into her cheval mirror—another junk shop find with her magic worked on it—she did a double-take of the girl staring back at her. Her brown hair loosely framed her face, which now looked well rested and less drawn than in recent weeks. Her outfit was pretty, casual and summery, and matched the weather streaming through the muslin voiles, which framed her large bay bedroom window. She smiled at her reflection and headed for the stairs to the shop, hoping to everything holy that she had a good day. Amanda was realistic—she had never thought that she would open to an instant success, but now, with no income, and her life savings all literally in one basket, the business had to work, as for the first time in her life, she didn’t know what direction her life was heading towards.

      Still, she had three working days left till Sunday, her day off. She could come up with some ideas. She had seen a flyer for the summer fair—maybe she could set up a stall, showcase her goods and services, get the word of mouth out. She made a mental note to find out more.

      She unlocked the front door to open the window shutter, and was faced with a mesmerising pair of grey eyes.

      ‘Oh, sorry! We have to stop doing this,’ a deep voice gently said.

      Amanda flustered, panicked at his words, till she realised he was talking about bumping into each other. She mentally brushed off the sinking feeling she had, and smiled thinly.

      ‘Sorry, Ben, I was just opening up.’

      He smiled back, matching her wary half-smile, and reached out and took the shutter key from her. A spark zinged up her fingers as his brushed hers, and she shivered. Looking at Ben, she saw his slightly shocked expression, mirroring hers, before he turned away. Man, he has nice eyes, she thought to herself. Ben turned away from her, deftly unlocking and lifting the shutters, and she found herself watching him. His muscles twitched as he pushed up on the cold steel, and she idly wondered what was under his white cotton shirt. His buttons were open at the neck, showing off a tanned throat with a sprinkling of dark hair peeking out from underneath. She bit her lip as she imagined running her hand over his bare chest, his curls twitching around her fingers as …

      ‘You OK?’

      Amanda’s lip sprang abruptly from between her teeth as she realised that Ben was speaking again. His amused grin was evident, and she flushed at being caught acting like a gormless idiot, yet again. What was it about this man that made her want to jump into his arms whenever she saw him? He was awful! Get a grip, you know no good comes from attractive and haughty men. The guy hates you.

      ‘Sorry,’ she said sheepishly. ‘Did you say something?’

      Ben chuckled, his grey eyes sparkling with mirth. ‘I just wanted to say sorry for yesterday. I realise I came across as a bit nasty, but I just care about this community.’

      ‘Yes, you were,’ Amanda said, setting her jaw and warning her eyes not to wander. She didn’t accept his apology, he noticed. He was obviously right on the money—she was another city girl, here to make her mark. Well, Westfield didn’t need change, and he wasn’t about to let it happen either.

      Amanda glanced behind her. Tracy was working in the shop, obliviously washing a Great Dane. She turned back to Ben and wiped her clammy palms down the sides of her skirt, her body zinging with nervous anger. She bit the bullet, swallowing.

      ‘So, you and Tracy, have you lived here all your lives?’

      Ben’s brows knitted together, a confused expression coming over his face. He opened his mouth to speak, when a car pulled up behind him. Ben looked irritated, and turned to greet the man coming out of the driver’s side towards them.

      ‘Mr Taylor, have the dogs been hunting again?’

      Taylor laughed, wiping his brow. After glancing between the two of them, he turned to open the rear door. ‘No, my dear Ben, a whole different kind of hunt is going on around here, I think.’

      Amanda looked at Ben, intrigued, and he glanced across at her, his expression saying ‘get ready’. He turned to stand next to her, and she followed his gaze and saw Taylor help a rather well-dressed woman out of the car. Her cream shoes kissed the pavement daintily, and, after smiling thanks at her helper, she smoothed down her already immaculate clothes and levelled her gaze at Amanda and Ben. The atmosphere was palpable, and Amanda felt like she had been caught kissing behind the bike sheds by a strict teacher. She smiled at the lady politely and skipped into her business mode, offering what she hoped was a firm, steady hand.

      ‘Hi, I’m Amanda Perry, pleased to meet you, Mrs …?’

      ‘Agatha, dear, call me Agatha.’

      Taylor’s surprised expression, caught by Amanda’s shrewd eye, told her that this woman didn’t offer her first name lightly, which comforted her some. Who was she? Maybe Ben had called her, maybe she was here to run her out of town. Agatha stepped forward and wrapped Amanda’s hand within her own. They were strong, belying her age, soft and warm, and Amanda relaxed at the gentle gesture.

      ‘Pleased to meet you, Agatha.’ She smiled. The woman spoke well, forthright but friendly, and Amanda instantly took a liking to her.

      ‘Now, dear, I have come to officially welcome you to Westfield. I think we are long overdue for a meeting. I am the committee head of a number of things here, and I would like to introduce your new venture, if it would please you, of course.’

      The words came out as a statement rather than a question, and Amanda guessed that the woman before her generally didn’t ask, but rather expected. She was a doer. Her liking to her grew all the more, and she grinned happily. Ben tutted loudly next to her, and she clenched her fists by her sides, ignoring him.

      ‘Agatha, I would be delighted. Would you like a drink?’ She motioned to the shop doorway. Agatha smiled, a little shake of her head making her tight bun catch the light, shooting off glints of grey into the sunshine.

      ‘I’m afraid I can’t today, but I appreciate the offer, thank you. I was thinking Tuesday? I could get Taylor here to pick you up perhaps, bring you to my house for a light supper?’

      Taylor sniggered at the side of her, and Agatha shot him a fearsome glare. He coughed, covering his tracks feebly, and straightened up, clasping his hands in front of him. Amanda shot a quick look towards Ben, and saw he was watching the exchange with wide-eyed interest. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, poodle primper. Amanda quickly looked back at Agatha.

      ‘That would be wonderful, thank you. I close at five, is that OK?’

      Agatha smiled warmly, her eyes flicking to her companion once more.

      ‘That’s fine, Amanda—’ she said it ‘A-marn-da’ ‘—I shall send the car for half past six.’

      Taylor nodded once, eyes cast to the floor. Amanda also nodded and Agatha smiled again, seemingly