Found (8 page)

I take a look around me again. It’s hard to believe that the pop-up was in this space only a few weeks ago. A lot has changed since then – some of it for the better, a lot for the worse.

When I walked into the upstairs space of Tabi’s, Tabitha’s weird cafe-bar-club on the King’s Road, it was pretty obvious that Ramone hadn’t taken his studio space back. The only thing that remains is his ancient black Singer sewing machine.

The room looks dull – the opposite of how it looked when I ran the pop-up – only a wooden table and a set of chipped chairs are in here now. This is where Tabitha and I are sitting, away from the listening ears of her customers downstairs.

‘Is Ramone moving back in?’ I ask as I study Tabitha. She’s lost some weight, but she’s looking good for it.

Tabitha frowns. ‘Don’t ask,’ she mutters.

This is the third topic I’ve started that has been met with a frown. What
can
I ask her about?

‘How’s Will?’ I chance. Will is her therapist and I know they’ve become quite close, though exactly
how
close...

Tabitha zips her lips together. ‘I’d rather not talk about any of that stuff,’ she says with another tight smile.

‘But you’re talking to someone about it?’ I check.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Of course I am, but I’m here for you today. Will, Lottie, Ramone,’ she lists, ‘are all a story for another day, not when we’ve only got an hour to catch up.’

I scrutinise her once more. She’s wearing a floaty, floral maxi dress which makes her glow, somehow, and it also really brings out her eyes. She looks stunning, when she’s not frowning at me, and it’s hard to believe that anything bad is happening in her life. Tabitha may look hunky-dory but the tabloid stories about her are telling a different tale.

I’m in a pair of black jeans, a soft plain white tee and a handmade, faux granite-and-white marble bunting necklace that I picked up off Etsy. After my New York stint living in pretty much the same clothes, I have embraced minimalism with aplomb – adding quirky jewellery to jazz up my outfits. It’s really rather refreshing.

OK, she does look like she is taking care of herself, even if her family are falling apart. I don’t push it. Some happy news would be most welcome for my friends and loved ones though; we all deserve a big dose of sunshine right now, and not just outside. Torrential rain is bouncing off the roads and pavements, though London is still hot and muggy.

When I came here this morning I did wonder whether Tabitha would be icy towards me, but she’s been nothing but her usual warm self since I walked through the door – the incident with Lydia clearly forgiven.

I’m here to have brunch with her and then I’m heading back to Brockenhurst with my parents ahead of the reading of Felicity’s will tomorrow. I’ll just about manage a quick catch-up with Ob, a cuddle or two with Atlas, and then I’ll be flying back to New York. It’s a quick and busy visit, but I can’t wait to get back to Piers. I’m worried I’ll find him working or, worse, back in the hospital.

‘Well,’ I begin as Tabitha’s bar manager, Eddie, walks in with our food. Another member of staff follows with a tray of tea and some sparkling water. ‘I’m so sorry for what Lydia did. I’m sorry I was stupid enough to leave my phone where she could get to it. I thought I could trust her,’ I add.

‘Honestly, it’s OK,’ Tabitha answers me, before thanking Eddie and the woman. I quickly do the same. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Now, tuck in, and let’s talk about something else.
Someone
else,’ she adds as Eddie and the woman head back downstairs.

I’m about to apologise again because it does feel like it was my fault – I’ve learnt one lesson from this and have put a passcode on my phone – but the smell of the food in front of me is very distracting. It smells and looks delicious.

After finding my parents back at the tearoom yesterday – thankfully I didn’t bump into Sadie again – we headed home and I went straight to bed. I’ve barely eaten since I’ve been back so I’m going to make quick work of my smoked salmon, avocado and poached eggs. There’s hollandaise sauce and a stack of farmhouse-style granary toast, too, and I groan audibly as I get a whiff of Tabitha’s bacon. I’ve been obsessed with bacon recently, and I have to stop myself from pinching a rasher from Tabitha’s plate. She’s gone for a full English; disappointingly there are no hash browns, although there are plenty of mushrooms and a fried egg that I want to poke my finger in to watch the yolk ooze out of it.

‘I thought you’d appreciate toast more than bagels,’ Tabitha says with a wink as she reaches for the brown sauce.

‘I am missing the bagels,’ I admit, ‘though I’m going to have to cut down on them if I don’t want my dress to be altered.’ I pat my tummy, embarrassed.

‘Dress?’

‘That’s one thing I wanted to ask you about,’ I say nervously as I dip my slice of buttery toast into my poached eggs. ‘Do you fancy coming to New York to–’

I stop to take a bite of my now yolky toast. ‘This is soooooo yummy,’ I groan as I swallow my mouthful. I wonder if I could have a second brunch. One involving bacon this time. Now I’ve had a mouthful, I could eat and eat.

‘For?’ Tabitha prompts with a laugh.

‘Oh, yeah! My wedding.’

‘But you’re getting–’ Tabitha stops as the penny drops. ‘
You’re getting married in New York?
’

‘We are,’ I confirm. ‘I have no idea where, I have no idea when,’ I say as Tabitha squeals and runs round to hug me, ‘but I’d love it if you could be there celebrating with us. Will, too,’ I add, ‘if you two are...?’

‘This is amazing,’ she says as she sits back down, completely ignoring my Will question as I suspected she would. Maybe he is just her therapist.

‘Though Tharnham would have been amazing,’ she adds loyally.

Piers and I are booked to get married at Tharnham Hall in two years’ time. Piers has had venue doubts for a while, mainly because he wanted to marry me sooner rather than later – more understandable in light of his recent surgery – but I’ll be a little sad that we won’t be getting married there since Tharnham is stunning. Plus, who wouldn’t want to get married in a castle?

‘It is,’ I agree, ‘but after what’s happened we don’t want to waste any more time.’

‘Is your dress finished?’

I take a sip of tea, but it tastes weird. I think I’ve become too used to American water, though I’ll probably get used to ours just as I fly back.

‘I went there for a fitting this morning,’ I say, even though that’s slightly inaccurate.

The bridal boutique is on the same street as Tabi’s, and I called in without an appointment – an absolute crime in their eyes, but I felt it was highly justifiable.

When I went to buy my wedding dress the haughty and opportunistic manager, on recognising Tabitha, decided to inflate the price of the dress by an eye-watering amount. Tabitha called her out on it, and now I have an expensive wedding dress, instead of a horrifically expensive wedding dress.

‘They’re going to finish it by the end of the month and will courier it to my parents’ house so they can bring it to New York with them. They have contacts in Manhattan if something needs tweaking, but as long as I don’t lose or gain any weight, I won’t need to use them.’

On second thoughts, I probably shouldn’t ask for a side of bacon. When I tried on what they thought was my finished dress this morning, it was a little tight so they are going to let it out slightly for me.

‘Let me know if you need me to pop in and hurry them along or check their work,’ Tabitha offers.

‘I will. Thank you.’

‘How’s Piers? Is he excited about a New York wedding?’

‘He’s good, and he is.’ I laugh. ‘I dread to think how he’s getting on though, on his own. I asked the concierge if it was possible to block the web page Piers uses to access his work files and emails, which he’s already called me out on. But,’ I say as I fill up my fork with more avocado and salmon, ‘he really needs to stop being a workaholic.’

We chat a little more about Piers before she asks me the question that I’ve been dreading, even though it gets easier the more I talk about her.

‘And how are you doing in regards to Felicity?’

I pull a face. ‘Better than I was,’ I admit. ‘The funeral really helped, as did clearing the air with Etta.’

‘
What
?’

‘I know, I know, but she’s actually human. Maybe.’

I shake my head as Tabitha raises her eyebrows at me, so I quickly fill her in on the funeral – minus Sadie’s drama – and then we switch to a topic of conversation that I don’t really want to think about. Not yet. On my list of priorities it’s right down at the bottom, despite my parents’ nagging.

‘So?’ Tabitha prompts.

‘So what?’

‘What are you going to do next? I’ve had quite a few people ask when the next pop-up is going to take place.’

I smile at the memory of the pop-up and what a great success it was. Even though it only came about because I messed up renting a shop, I managed to get rid of Felicity’s stock from the boutique she owned in Bournemouth. We donated the profits to an Alzheimer’s charity. I’m only sad that Flick was in hospital when it happened and never got to visit. She would have loved it.

‘I’m not sure,’ I admit, ‘though–’ I choke up slightly here, ‘–the last conversation I had with Felicity, the day before she died, she gave me a really good idea.’

‘Spill!’

I look at my watch. ‘I only have a few more minutes before I need to head off.’

As much as I would love to stay and chat with Tabitha all day, Mum and Dad don’t want to hit the rush-hour traffic, not that it can really be avoided. The roads are always terrible in London, which is why I usually catch the train. Since Dad drove up though, we need to drive back.

I also need to double-check I’ve packed everything that Piers has asked me to bring back to New York for him, which includes his suit for the wedding! It’s so exciting to think that the next time we’re in London we’ll officially be Mr and Mrs Bramley. I know we’ve lived together for so long that it won’t change things – we’re already a team – but I can’t wait to marry him. It feels very grown-up and like the next chapter in our lives is about to begin.

‘Traffic,’ I explain.

‘A sixty second pitch,’ Tabitha says, not taking no for an answer. ‘Ready, steady, go!’

How can I not? I quickly explain my idea of expanding the videos I posted for pop-up publicity into a help platform for those who want a style overhaul, but to also help people minimise their clothes and develop a capsule wardrobe. I don’t know whether it would work charging people to watch tutorials like this, but I’m going to give it a go.

Back at the shop in Bournemouth when I first took over, I basically offered a similar personal shopping service that went down really well. This new idea is a way to broaden my customer pool. Any clothes that I do suggest will all be available on my website, or maybe on someone else’s website and I’ll get commission for sending them that way. I need to figure out a few things still.

‘Though, of course,’ I point out, ‘this would work out better if I still had Frocks and Socks.’

Frocks and Socks was the name of the shop in Camden.

‘Something physical to back it up,’ I expand. ‘Make people believe they are paying for something legit.’

‘You should definitely find a new shop.’

‘Is it worth the risk though? What I did before only worked for a while,’ I admit, ‘so who knows whether it has any longevity or whether I’ll even be able to rent a place on my own. Maybe–’

I stop as Tabitha laughs at my silly pondering. What if I’m hit by a bus tomorrow? I should stop over-thinking this.

‘Hel-lo! This is
London
. There’ll be customers, for sure, and I’ll send all mine your way. You could even hold consultations here. Ramone will never be coming back.’

I don’t press her, though I’m desperate to know what happened. Ramone is a famous fashion designer and now Tabitha’s ex-best friend, it seems. It’s all a little juicy, which makes me a horrible person for wanting the gossip on someone who is a really good friend. I hope she thinks I am, anyway. She is definitely a lot more casual around me now – no airs and terrifying graces like I used to get from her when Piers and I were merely patrons of hers. 

‘It’s definitely something to consider,’ I ponder. ‘Anyway, I’d better shoot off, but it was so nice to see you again and clear the air, and I’m truly sorry about Lydia. Again.’

I gather up my things and I smile warmly at Tabitha. I know I’m still earning her trust, but hopefully one day she’ll open up to me.

‘Be careful, Arielle,’ Tabitha says as we hug goodbye outside on the pavement – a paparazzi lifts his camera until he realises that I’m no one special, so he squints up at the sky. The rain has stopped but dark clouds loom ominously.

‘I know you said you’d cleared the air with Etta, but I don’t trust her. Once an addict...’

‘I hear you,’ I say, though I am going to give Etta a chance. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘In Newwwwww Yorrrrrrrrrrrk,’ Tabitha croons, making me laugh because of her awful singing voice.