but hanging off the doorframe, their eyes wide with glee as they watched the two women verbally spar.
This wouldn’t do, he decided. Not one bit. They had a lot to get done and they were due to open in less than fifteen hours. ‘Well, I’m glad you popped by, Milly. It’s been lovely to see you. I hate to cut your visit short, but as I’m sure you understand, we’ve a lot to get done before we flick that sign on the door there from “shut” to “open” tomorrow morning.’ Ben went to the door and opened it for Milly.
‘Absolutely, I understand. I know you’ve a lot on at the moment, Ben, but we should definitely catch up.’ Milly’s fingers curled around his bicep. ‘It’s been so long. I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been up to. There’s only so much that can be talked about, conveyed, over the phone. That job of yours must have been positively thrilling, far more exciting than my work as an editor-in-chief at a fashion magazine…’
Another snort-cough filled the air. This one from Poppy’s direction.
‘Er, I don’t know about thrilling, but I did meet some characters along the way.’ Ben glanced at the ruby-red talons that showed no sign of leaving his arm. When had Milly become so… un-Milly?
‘Well then, I’d love to hear about them. I’ll swing by in a few days’ time, once you’re all settled and up and running, and we’ll make a date, shall we?’ Milly stretched up and settled her lips on his cheek. He caught a whiff of some dark, exotic perfume. So different to the apple shampoo that had been her ever-present scent as a teenager.
‘Okay. Great. Well, have a good day, Milly.’ Ben waved her off and shut the door to a mixture of wolf whistles and kissy sounds.
‘Ben’s got a giiiiirlfriiiiiiend,’ Sophie and Joe sang in unison.
Ben touched his arm where Milly’s hand had been. Breathed in the potent perfume that still hung in the air. He looked over to Poppy to gauge her opinion. Her back was turned, hunched over, as she tore into another box, sending the polystyrene pieces within flying.
He tried to ignore the gnawing in his stomach that told him his life was about to get complicated. Complicated? Try downright problematic. With the opening of his business, the juggling of staff, and the rift between him and his father that if their lack of communication was anything to go by showed no signs of abating, the last thing he needed was Poppy vs Milly, round two.
Ben closed his eyes. Opened them again. Blinked hard. The bowl of creamy vanilla icing he had tucked under his arm threatened to tip over and spill its contents on their freshly cleaned floor.
Poppy mashed her lips together; she knew what was coming but couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t? More like didn’t want to. His face began to turn a violent shade of purple. Eruption coming in three… two… one…
‘You can’t seriously be wearing that on our first day of business. It’s completely ridiculous. Totally over the top. What will people think?’ Ben shoved the icing-covered spoon he was holding in the bowl and placed it on the counter.
Joe glanced down at his outfit. A snow-white fluffy onesie with a pink oval ‘belly’ front and centre. ‘What? You don’t like my uniform?’ He spun round, sending the golden tail attached to the onesie’s rear flying.
‘Uniform?’ Ben shook his head so hard Poppy half-worried that his brain would come flying out of his ears. ‘It’s not a uniform. That looks like the kind of pyjamas a three-year-old would wear.’
Poppy moved to stand beside Joe and pointed downwards. ‘Not true. Kids onesies tend to have feet as part of the pyjamas. Joe’s feet are bare.’
‘His feet are not bare. I can see with my own two eyes that he has unicorn scuffs on his feet. The slipper variety. He’s not ready to go to work. He’s ready to go to bed.’
‘You don’t like his slippers? But they’re so pretty.’
Joe raised his leg and angled his foot back and forth, displaying the purple fluffy scuffs threaded through with silver, a horn made from shiny golden material protruded from the centre of each slipper. ‘I’m with Poppy, they’re pretty. Pretty awesome.’
Ben’s nostrils flared as he huffed. ‘It’s not about whether I like them or not…’
‘You don’t. I can see it from the fuchsia colour of your face.’ Poppy grabbed hold of Joe’s tail and twirled the tail, burlesque style. ‘I’d go as far as to say they’re making you angry.’
‘They don’t make me angry. They’re slippers. It takes more than fairy tale footwear to irritate me. No, it’s just that I don’t think that uniform is appropriate for a business such as this. People will be coming to our shop expecting a certain sense of decorum… and, well…’ Ben’s lips mashed together. ‘More important than what others think… what if Joe gets too hot and passes out?’
Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and shifted from foot to foot, setting off a disco of lights embedded in her sunshine-yellow sneakers. ‘Nice tactic, making it all about Joe’s health and wellbeing rather than what others might think, but the thing is, Ben, I don’t think Joe could get hot enough to pass out, not when you insist on setting the temperature in here to freezing.’
‘It really is freezing.’ Joe mock-shivered. ‘So, actually, I’m almost cosy.’
‘And you know, Joe, I’m impressed with your commitment to the job. It’s inspiring. In fact, it’s got me tempted to wear this…’ Poppy strode over to a rack of clothing and pulled out a spaghetti-strapped silk nightgown covered in prancing miniature unicorns. ‘Although, if I were to wear this then Ben would have to pop the heating up.’
Ben’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ of horror. ‘You wouldn’t wear that? It would be—’
‘Too fun? Too casual?’ Poppy pulled the nightgown off the rack, held it up to her body and shimmied like Milly had the day before. ‘Likely to give one of your staid old customers a heart attack?’
‘Yes, exactly that. I can’t have people keeling over, it would give us bad press. Anyway, the temperature’s kept low so my customers can appreciate their tea. They’ll wrap their hands around the cups. Feel the heat infuse their bodies, their souls…’
‘Who knew Mr Business had a poetic heart?’ Poppy placed the nightgown back on the rack. ‘It’s lovely to know that you care about creating an experience for a bunch of strangers.’
‘Not strangers. Customers. Also, if it gets too warm in here the tea can go rancid. And I can’t afford to be throwing money down the drain.’ Ben checked his watch. ‘Look, the shop’s due to open in twenty minutes, and Sophie and I still have to get the tea-of-the-day steeping on the warmer, and the baking plated up and on the counter. Joe, wear what you want. Poppy, don’t you dare wear that tiny scrap of material you call a nightie. You’ll freeze to death.’
Poppy’s chest began to ache from holding the laughter in. She glanced at Joe, whose face had gone vermillion. One cheek was puffed out, like his tongue was literally pushed into it.
An irritated cluck from Ben sent her over the edge. The
