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Save Our Shop
(S.O.S)
Michael Roll
Copyright © 2012 Michael Wilton
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher.
The Publisher makes no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any commercial damages.
2012-12-06
Introduction
Save our shop
Frustrated by staff shortages and caught up in a scandal that threatens the future of his beloved village shop, Albert Bridge calls on his nephew William to help out. Reluctantly putting aside his writing ambitions, William agrees and immediately falls in love with Sally, the latest shop volunteer, despite formidable opposition from her autocratic step mother, Lady Courtney, who already has a suitor lined up who has conned her into believing he will restore the family fortune.
The unexpected arrival in the village of Lady Courtney’s American friend, Ed Newman, intent on gingering up his fledging UK security business, fills Albert with hopes of a rewarding friendship, and his daughter Veronica follows suit by setting her sights on William, causing a rift in his budding romance with Sally.
Following a break-in and the loss of a valuable order, William as a last resort sends an SOS to Albert’s maverick brother Neil, who turns up on the run from the police following a dispute with the local planning officer. Disguised as his Aunt Isobel, Neil takes over and persuades William to invite Newman and his daughter to a cosy supper to promote new business, resulting in a complete breakdown in his relations with Sally.
Drawn further apart by Neil’s bold ideas, it is left to William to reveal the true motive behind a shady scheme to take over the shop and threaten the life of the village - a price he is willing to pay in a desperate fight to win back his love and those around him.
A Very Frustrated Helper
In the picturesque village of Snuggleton-near-the-Sea, the afternoon was drawing to a close at the end of a hot summer’s day. The sun still shone on the few remaining villagers taking a stroll before supper, and everywhere seemed peaceful and serene – except for a time bomb that was about to go off in the village shop halfway down the high street.
Inside, a very frustrated volunteer was fuming. With every passing minute, Mavis Foxey was becoming increasingly annoyed at her missed opportunities. All afternoon she had been doing her best to attract the manager, Albert Bridge, and get him involved in a full blown scandal, and any moment he would be asking her to bring in the display boards, signalling the end of another day.
Her pride depended on it. In her view, it was time for immediate action. The thought of what Fred, or Foxey Fred, as her husband was known, would say if she failed him, when his whole ambitious scheme depended on it, sent a cold tremor down her spine. It wasn’t the only reason, of course – if she pulled it off she stood to win a substantial bet with her friend, Enid. She smirked to herself. That was something she’d never had any trouble with before, as most of the men in the village would testify to their cost.
Aware that the time was slipping by, she attacked the keyboard with renewed fury and was gratified to see she had hit the jackpot. Immediately, a total of £9,999 flashed up. That should do the trick, she decided. Taking a quick around, she carelessly undid the top three buttons of her blouse and shook her hair free.
“Oh dear, I don’t think this till likes me,” said Mavis raising her voice, as she checked the total. “That can’t be right, what do you think, Mr. Bridge?” she called out, and as he reluctantly came up to see what was wrong, she brushed against him as if by accident.
It was coming up to five-thirty and all Albert Bridge wanted to do was to shut up shop and get home to his supper. It had been a long day and he was tired. The bread had come in late and the greengrocery order was up the creek; his usual assistant, Jackie, who did all the ordering was away sick, and the temp they promised hadn’t turned up. The last thing he wanted to do was to get involved with an old biddy like Mavis.
Normally a very friendly and trusting person, Albert was reaching the end of his tether. Usually, he was never short of female help when he needed it, especially from some of the more elderly spinsters who were always looking in for an excuse to linger. But it was holiday time and there was scarcely a soul around – all except Mavis. He didn’t mind giving a pat of encouragement to some of the locals who helped to keep the village shop going – but he had to draw a line somewhere. His long-suffering friend, Hettie, always smiled patiently when Mavis’s name was mentioned, saying the old ‘man-eater’ had a face that would stop a bus a mile away. Although he was always ready to defer to her better judgement where such matters were concerned, on this occasion he thought she was under estimating – two miles, more likely. He backed away hastily, avoiding the open invitation.
“Why don’t you finish off and go home, Mavis – I’ll sort it out,” he said hastily.
“I expect your husband will be home by now, wanting his supper. We don’t want to keep him waiting, do we?” he added heartily.
“But just look at this figure.” Adding emphasis, she tugged at her blouse, and leaned forward provocatively. “I don’t like the look of it, do you?”
“No, I can’t say I do,” he agreed truthfully, averting his gaze as he tried to edge past her and winced at the sight of the figure displayed on the till. “Oh, blimey, what the heck…?”
“Don’t say I’ve been naughty,” she said coyly, tossing her hair over her shoulder, doing her best to imitate her favourite screen idol.
“I don’t believe it…” He was saved from saying what he really thought by the bell tinging at the entrance and the tousled head of Jim Berry, the accountant appeared, bursting breezily into the shop.
“Cashed up already - that’s the stuff. Can I bank the takings then?” He took one look at Albert’s red face and clenched fingers and broke in quickly. “Ah, the inimitable Mrs. Foxey. Evening, Mavis. Till still working, is it?” He glanced at the total and whistled, getting out his calculator. “My word, been buying up the shop again, have we?”
Mavis pulled herself up. “I consider that remark most uncalled for, Mr. Berry. I think I’ll go home where I’m wanted.”
“Well, that’s something – old man working late again, is he?”
“Ooh! That does it! I’m not staying here a minute longer.” Catching sight of a tramp lurking outside who she recognised as Bimbo, the local walking talking Post Office, she added loudly, “…and you can tell your Albert Bridge to keep his hands to himself in future. Goodbye, and don’t expect me back.” Sweeping her things together, Mavis sailed past them, satisfied she had done her bit to get the rumour started.
“Wait a minute, Mavis,” Albert called after her hastily as he juggled with the keyboard. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it, did you, Jim?”
Slam.
Albert
