Crystal Balls (44 page)

I reach forward, kissing him on his pale cheek, capturing his boyish scent. The hairs on his face are soft and a few days old, tinged with a citrus fragrance. He pulls on his sleeve, pretending
to be repulsed, and scrubs away at his face with a montage of hilarious gestures.

“Tina.” He escorts me speedily to a less crowded corner of the room.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t ever change, will you?” he whispers urgently.

“What?”

“Don’t ever change.” He delicately pushes a strand of hair from my face. “Always be yourself.”

Hang on, isn’t that the wrong way round?

“Don’t change for anyone, Tina,” he repeats. “Always be yourself and you won’t go wrong.”

His words and the compassion of his delivery have stunned me. I thought he would have called me all the idiots under the sun. It’s nothing I wouldn’t have deserved.

“Earth calling Tina!” Simon digs me in the arm, sensing my shock at his statement, clearly trying to make light of it. I think he’s a little embarrassed. “What’s
going on in that head of yours . . . or shouldn’t I ask?”

I’m growing up, that’s what’s going on and I’m prioritising my life. On my own! Yippee!

“Okay, then I won’t change,” I reply matter of factly, taking a huge swig of champagne. I know he meant it with great earnestness but I’m taking nothing seriously from
now on and I’m so in the mood for a bit of playful banter.

With childish retaliation, Simon pokes me just below the ribs and the champagne sprays from my mouth, soaking his faded rugby shirt. He glances down at it, unperturbed. “There’s no
need to wash this shirt for another week now.” He grins.

“Sorry, Simon, but I’m so ticklish there.”

He penetrates my skin with his stare. “I know you are.”

My faces flushes and I look around the room for the nearest emergency exit while my body chemically reacts to his imaginary touch. Sensing my embarrassment, he grabs my hand, drags me roughly
towards one of the waiting staff and snatches two drinks from the silver tray.

“To your success!” he congratulates, holding the glass high.

“And to your success,” I reciprocate fondly. “Although I imagine you are already quite successful, Simon. You know, I never ever asked you what you did.” I ignore the
chilled flute just inches from my lips. “How rude was that?”

He grins impishly. “That was very rude, you bad girl. But I wouldn’t have you any other way!”

“Yes but –”

“Tina, stop analysing what’s in the past and drink up,” he orders firmly. “If I don’t have to carry you out of here, there’s something terribly
wrong!”

I join my family, at the back of the room keeping themselves to themselves. It amazing to have them back on board and I keep asking myself why I lied to them about so many
things. Perhaps the same reason I lied to myself?

Sam calls me over.

“Where’s your drink, Sam?” I wave across to one of the waitresses.

“It’s here.” She points to her drink set down on the floor.

“It’s our opening bash, Sam! Get some champers down your neck!”

Sam breaks into a fixed grin. She looks at me and pats her stomach.

“No!”
I can’t speak in case I’m right.

“Yes!” she squeals. “You’re going to be an aunt.”

I can’t move.

“What if you have a boy, Sam? Does that mean she’ll be an uncle?” Simon peals with laughter while I just stand there staring at my sister, basking in her pregnancy glow.

How could I have even missed it? She’s never been so radiant.

I fling myself on her while she ruffles my hair fondly. She’ll make a great mother. Better than me, I’m sure. It’s a good job there’s one stable daughter in our
family.

“Oh guys, I am so delighted for you both.” I hug Tim affably. If I wasn’t all cried-out I’d probably have tears of joy to shed but I’ve done enough whinging to last
me a lifetime. “Hey, I have some experience with children if you ever want –”

“Them to be abandoned!” Simon pipes up. “Or left in some designer shop!”

I curse him for his avid memory and wish he’d have kept his mouth shut. I’ll be the best aunt there is.

Sam sees the hurt expression. “Don’t be cruel, Simon,” she chides him. “Tina will make a wonderful aunt.”

I smirk at Simon as my big sister defends me.

“As long as she doesn’t have to change nappies, clean sick –”

My faces warps.
I forgot about all that stuff!

With the wondrous news of an impending birth and a massively successful party, I think today has got to be one of the best days of my life. Just a few weeks ago I truly believed it was all over.
On a positive day I had a glimmer of hope that I might be able to keep High Street open, but that would be the limit of my success. It would barely break even by the time I had paid a decent salary
for a full-time manager to replace me. But now I know where I stand. I know where feels comfortable and I know where feels like home and somewhere in the not too distant future there will be one of
our shops on every major high street.

“I was just kidding, Tina,” Simon concedes. “About the aunt comment. I think you’ll be wonderful.”

I eye him cautiously.

“All you can do is try, Simon,” I preach. “And by God I’ll try to be the best aunt I possibly can be.” My voice breaks at the prospect of a miniature new arrival. A
baby Sam. I can’t wait.

“And what makes you think you’ll be a great uncle? You can’t even look after yourself, never mind get a baby ready!”

“Do you mind!” He tuts. “It takes me ages to get this slept-in look!”

Hilary strolls over to join us, looking extremely regal in her wide-brimmed hat and matching lilac suit. She looks more like she’s attending a royal wedding than a shop opening but
I’m flattered at the effort.

“I couldn’t help overhearing, Tina,” she says softly. “You know, when Simon was at secondary school I went in one morning to wake him up . . .”

Simon’s face reddens.

“And as I pulled the covers from him I saw his shirt collar sticking out from beneath his pyjama top!” She titters shyly. “He’d worn his pyjamas over his school uniform
so he wouldn’t have the bother of getting dressed in the morning!”

“Yuck! How gross are you?” I prod his ribs, enjoying my revenge.

Simon raises his eyebrows at Hilary. “Any other embarrassing stories you’d like to share, Mother?”

“Actually, lots.” Hilary links her arm through mine, a sign of much physical affection from a woman so timid, but changing slowly under my mother’s influence. “But I
don’t want to put her off you, Simon.” She hesitates. “A girl like Tina would be good for you.”

I throw him a snide look, sticking my tongue out like a schoolgirl. “Yeah,
too
bloody good for you!”

“Suits you!” he sniggers.

“Dream on, loser!” I snort.

Simon clears his throat cockily “Young lady, if my memory serves me correctly, I didn’t lose . . . I won.”

Hilary looks from him back to me with a confused expression.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” I concede.

Chantelle and I pose for the
Mersey Times.
We’ve been in stitches doing it, mainly at the expense of the poor photographer who looks petrified,. We pout like
pin-ups while our bodies are moulded into the most flattering positions chosen by ourselves, chin up, chest out. We decided to make our pictures sexy and sassy so they’d stand out –
no-one wants to see a formal picture of a suited businesswoman, they want something easy on the eye, something that jumps out at them, and between the two of us I’d say we’ve pulled it
off.

I escort the photographer from the premises, thanking him profusely for his attendance and patience with us. We were rather trying, but that’s what champagne does for you and it is our day
after all.

Outside, I take a moment to inhale the early summer air, marvelling as its warmth hits my lungs, feeling the light breeze caress my face with tenderness. I’d forgotten what a wonderful day
it was with our new state-of-the-art glass and its anti-reflective glare.

I gaze up at the sign, shiny and new.
We did it!
I tell myself silently.
We’re on our way!
It’s an absolute privilege to have Chantelle on board as a business partner.
It was the only way I could tie her down without a ball and chain shackled to her ankle. I put a proposition to her that I knew she couldn’t refuse. Ordinarily an exchange of funds would take
place when someone buys in, but I knew Chantelle didn’t have them to give so I proposed to her that she settled for the lowest salary possible, using the remainder to buy her shares in the
partnership, that way she wouldn’t start off in any debt. Plus we agreed a fifty-fifty split of the commission. Any wonder she nearly bit my hand off!

“Miss Harding.” His dulcet tones demand my immediate attention and I look up to see Brian standing in the doorway clad in dark denim jeans which flatter his perfect build. He never
ceases to be anything other than sex on legs.

“Mr Steen.”

Brian joins me outside and we stand together looking up at the pristine new lettering.

“I did mean it, Brian – you’ve been an integral part of my success and I really couldn’t have done it without you.” I watch him intently.

“Then you can make it up to me if you like?” He inches forward slightly and my stomach churns with lust.

A loud squeal distracts me and I peer through glass to see Chantelle prancing around waving her arm in the air. I watch Tim fetch a chair, forcing Sam to put her feet on it, and I take in Simon
and my dad looking incredibly at ease with one another, laughing and joking. And why wouldn’t they get on? They’re both wonderful people.

What?

I’m stunned at my reaction.
Wonderful?
An admission that I didn’t even know existed.
Where the hell did that come from? My dad, yes. But Simon . . .

Brian edges forward a little more. “So how about it then, Miss Harding?”

I think about the times when Simon rescued me. When he held the drunken me up for the wedding dance and practically carried me to bed. When he got me out of a legal contract that could have
crippled me. Where he told me to be me. Just me.

“You know what, Brian . . . I think I need some space.”

The past few months have been so full-on that I think I need to be on my own for a while. The prospect of two men to consider is far too overwhelming and maybe I’ll regret it but my
instinct tells me to go with it. To just be me for a little while, wise words from a very special person. Whatever will be shall manifest itself suitably as and when the timing is right, but
I’m no longer prepared to interfere with my life. I’m happy to simply let it be and work away doing the things I love to do, being around the people I adore.

“Brian,” I give him a peck on his cheek, determined not to linger any longer than necessary even if it is killing me, “my mother once told me never to mix business with
pleasure.”

I head towards the front door, eager to join in the boisterous merriment. I brush past the loosely hanging purple ribbon symmetrically cut by our special guest and spin around to see Brian
standing there, affronted.

“And it kills me to say it,” I add, “but I think she was right!”