Falling For The Secret Millionaire. Kate Hardy

the façade at the front and the pillars on either side of the front door. Nicole wasn’t that surprised when the lights didn’t work—the electricity supply had probably been switched off—but she kept a mini torch on her key-ring, and the beam was bright enough to show them the inside of the building.

      Susan sniffed. ‘Musty. But no damp, hopefully.’

      ‘What’s that other smell?’ Nicole asked, noting the unpleasant acridness.

      ‘I think it might be mice.’

      Susan’s suspicions were confirmed when they went into the auditorium and saw how many of the plush seats looked nibbled. Those that had escaped the mice’s teeth were worn threadbare in places.

      ‘I can see why that article called it a flea-pit,’ Nicole said with a shudder. ‘This is awful, Mum.’

      ‘You just need the pest control people in for the mice, then do a bit of scrubbing,’ Susan said.

      But when they came out of the auditorium and back into the foyer, Nicole flashed the torch around and saw the stained glass. ‘Oh, Mum, that’s gorgeous. And the wood on the bar—it’s pitted in places, but I bet a carpenter could sort that out. I can just see this bar restored to its Edwardian Art Deco glory.’

      ‘Back in its earliest days?’ Susan asked.

      ‘Maybe. And look at this staircase.’ Nicole shone the torch on the sweeping wrought-iron staircase that led up to the first floor. ‘I can imagine movie stars sashaying down this in high heels and gorgeous dresses. Or glamorous ballroom dancers.’

      ‘We never really used the upper floor. There was always a rope across the stairs,’ Susan said.

      ‘So what’s upstairs?’

      Susan shrugged. ‘Brian’s office was there. As for the rest of it… Storage space, I think.’

      But when they went to look, they discovered that the large upstairs room had gorgeous parquet flooring, and a ceiling covered in carved Art Deco stars that stunned them both.

      ‘I had no idea this was here,’ Susan said. ‘How beautiful.’

      ‘This must’ve been the ballroom bit,’ Nicole said. ‘And I can imagine people dancing here during the Blitz, refusing to let the war get them down. Mum, this place is incredible.’

      She’d never expected to fall in love with a building, especially one which came from a source that made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. But Nicole could see the Electric Palace as it could be if it was renovated—the cinema on the ground floor, with the top floor as a ballroom or maybe a place for local bands to play. Or she could even turn this room into a café-restaurant. A café with an area for doing crafts, perhaps like her mum suggested. Or an ice cream parlour, stocked with local artisan ice cream.

      If she just sold the Electric Palace to a developer and collected the money, would the building be razed to the ground? Could all this be lost?

      But she really couldn’t let that happen. She wanted to bring the Electric Palace back to life, to make it part of the community again.

      ‘It’s going to be a lot of work to restore it,’ she said. Not to mention money: it would eat up all her savings and she would probably need a bank loan as well to tide her over until the business was up and running properly.

      ‘But you’re not afraid of hard work—and this time you’d be working for you,’ Susan pointed out.

      ‘On the Surrey Quays forum, quite a few people have said how they’d love the place to be restored so we had our own cinema locally,’ Nicole said thoughtfully.

      ‘So you wouldn’t be doing it on your own,’ Susan said. ‘You already have a potential audience and people who’d be willing to spread the word. Some of them might volunteer to help you with the restoration or running the place—and you can count me in as well. I could even try and get some of my probationers interested. I bet they’d enjoy slapping a bit of paint on the walls.’

      ‘Supposing I can’t make a go of it? There’s only one screen, maybe the possibility of two if I use the upstairs room,’ Nicole said. ‘Is that enough to draw the customers in and make the place pay?’

      ‘If anyone can do it, you can,’ Susan said.

      ‘I have savings,’ Nicole said thoughtfully. ‘If the renovations cost more than what I have, I could get a loan.’

      ‘I have savings, too. I’d be happy to use them here,’ Susan added.

      Nicole shook her head. ‘This should be your heritage, Mum, not mine. And I don’t want you to risk your savings on a business venture that might not make it.’

      ‘We’ve already had this argument. You didn’t win it earlier and you’re not going to win it now,’ Susan said crisply. ‘The Electric Palace is yours. And it’s your choice whether you want to sell it or whether you want to do something with it.’

      Nicole looked at the sad, neglected old building and knew exactly what she was going to do. ‘I’ll work out some figures, to see if it’s viable.’ Though she knew that it wasn’t just about the figures. And if the figures didn’t work, she’d find alternatives until they did work.

      ‘And if it’s viable?’ Susan asked.

      ‘I’ll talk to my boss. If he’ll give me a six-month sabbatical, it’d be long enough for me to see if I can make a go of this place.’ Nicole shook her head. ‘I can’t quite believe I just said that. I’ve spent ten years working for the bank and I’ve worked my way up from the bottom.’

      ‘And you hate it there—it suppresses the real Nicole and it’s turned you into a corporate ghost.’

      ‘Don’t pull your punches, Mum,’ Nicole said wryly.

      Susan hugged her. ‘I can love you to bits at the same time as telling you that you’re making a massive mistake with your life, you know.’

      ‘Because mums are good at multi-tasking?’

      ‘You got it, kiddo.’ Susan hugged her again. ‘And I’m with you on this. Anything you need, from scrubbing floors to working a shift in the ticket office to making popcorn, I’m there—and, as I said, I have savings and I’m happy to invest them in this place.’

      ‘You worked hard for that money.’

      ‘And interest rates are so pathetic that my savings are earning me nothing. I’d rather that money was put to good use. Making my daughter’s life better—and that would make me very happy indeed. You can’t put a price on that.’

      Nicole hugged her. ‘Thanks, Mum. I love you. And you are so getting the best pudding in the world.’

      ‘You mean, we have to stop by the supermarket on the way back to your flat because there’s nothing in your fridge,’ Susan said dryly.

      Nicole grinned. ‘You know me so well.’

      Later that evening, when Susan had gone home, Nicole checked her phone. As she’d half expected, there was a message from Clarence. Did you talk to your mum?

      Yes. Did you talk to your dad?

      To her pleasure, he replied almost instantly.

      No. There wasn’t time.

      Nicole was pretty sure that meant Clarence hadn’t been able to face a row.

      What did your mum say? he asked.

      Even though she had a feeling that he was asking her partly to distract her from quizzing him about his own situation, it was still nice that he was interested.

      We went to see the building.

      And?

      It’s