It Was Always You Read online

  ‘Oh, my!’ Anna said, impressed. ‘How lovely.’

  She stopped to study the shop front in more detail. It was beautiful, almost an illustration from an elegant book. The windows were clean, and not obscured by posters or pamphlets. A simple display occupied the central window : a pyramid of boxes of tea, with a bowl of fruit to one side and one of flowers to the other. Somebody had taken a lot of care to arrange something so simple and elegant. She bet the display was changed frequently.

  ‘He doesn’t have a lot in the window, does he?’ Matthew said.

  ‘No, but he has enough. It’s a very attractive window,’ Anna said, the more impressed, the longer she studied the display.

  ‘I think it’s beautiful, and clever. Tasteful. I hate those shop windows where everything is crammed in on top of everything else. I’ve never been able to get Mr. Wilson to agree that that’s a poor way of doing things. He thinks you have to show everything you’ve got in the window, or folk won’t come in.’

  ‘Let’s have a look inside,’ Matthew suggested.

  She wondered what he was thinking. Were they here to meet a friend of his, or part of the family? Not that it mattered, she thought, following Matthew. It would be interesting just to see inside.

  The exterior of the shop might have been clear and uncluttered, but inside it was a different matter.

  ‘Aladdin’s Cave!’ Matthew said with a grin.

  She smiled. She knew what he meant, even if it wasn’t how she would have put it. There really was a lot of stuff here, but she could see at a glance that it was well-organised. Everything in its place, all arranged by a tidy and thoughtful mind. Excellent use of the available space, in fact.

  She guessed they sold almost everything. They were light on perishables – the fresh food, and so on – but there was a good range. And if you wanted a newspaper to go with your morning coffee, or a sharpener for your pencil, let alone quality marmalade or a light bulb, you would get it here. Shoe polish, as well. And small nails and screws.

  In the morning, at least, there would be fresh bread – she could smell it now – and in the afternoon, a notice said, there would be a dry-cleaning collection and delivery service. There was fresh milk, of course. And free-range eggs. A surprising array of fruit and vegetables, too, and shelves holding a variety of wines and beers.

  ‘You’ll be wanting change for the parking meter, I suppose?’ a man’s voice called.

  ‘A box of matches, actually,’ Matthew replied. ‘A small one – the smallest you’ve got. And will you take a cheque?’

  Anna spun round to see Matthew and a man a little older than themselves laughing at each other as they shook hands.

  ‘Anna, meet Gordon, my cousin. Gordon, this is Anna.’

  Anna smiled. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Gordon.’

  ‘From Callerton?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Born and bred.’

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you at last, Anna. Matthew has told me a lot about you.’

  ‘Really?’

  She glanced sideways. Matthew looked embarrassed but defiant.

  ‘That you have a shop, at least,’ Gordon amended.

  ‘Well... I manage one, but not for much longer. It’s closing at the end of the month.’

  Gordon grimaced. ‘It’s a problem, isn’t it? Village shops are struggling everywhere.’

  ‘Are you struggling, as well?’

  ‘Us? Not really, no. We’re managing. We’re an exception, fortunately.’

  ‘You must be doing something right, then.’

  ‘He’s a prize winner,’ Matthew said, pointing to a plaque on the wall.

  ‘ "Village Shop of the Year" ‘ she read aloud. ‘Wow! I’m impressed.’

  She was, too. She had read about the competitions and awards, even if she had long since abandoned hope that the Wilsons might think it worth entering their shop. Always, whenever she had proposed it, there had been some reason for it to be a bad idea.

  ‘Thank you.’ Gordon shrugged modestly. ‘Coffee?’

  The enticing smell was irresistible. ‘Please,’ she said.

  Gordon broke off to serve a customer. Then he led them to a small table in the corner and took a flask from the nearby coffee-maker.

  ‘So how do you do so well?’ Anna asked. ‘I mean...’ She paused and waved around her. ‘Apart from having such a beautiful shop!’

  ‘We’ve been going a long time,’ Gordon said. ‘That helps. Tradition, and all that. My great-grandfather started the shop. Before that, he used to go round the district, first with a pony train and then with a horse and cart. The shop saved him a lot of shoe leather.

  ‘The family just kept it going,’ he added with a shrug.

  ‘So you were born to it?’

  ‘To be a shopkeeper?’ Gordon laughed. ‘I didn’t think so. I wanted to see the world, and be a footballer or a brain surgeon. I was born too late to be an engine driver, a proper one, that is, with a steam engine. I could have been an astronaut, I suppose. At one time I thought of that.’

  ‘The usual?’ she said.

  ‘The usual.’

  ‘Then he changed his mind,’ Matthew contributed.

  ‘I did. You’re right, there, Matthew!’ Gordon laughed again and shook his head. ‘After a few years of messing about, I started to help out a bit in the shop. I found I quite liked it, and I could see I could make a decent living out of it. So I took it on myself when Dad wanted to retire.’

  ‘The rest is history,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Out, you!’ Gordon shook his head and looked sadly at Anna. ‘Messing about in the hills all day, he has no idea what a real business is like.’

  Anna grinned. They were obviously good pals, these two.

  ‘Tell me what you’ve done,’ she said, ‘to make it such a success. I’m really interested.’

  ‘It’s just common-sense, basically. You can’t afford to keep much in the way of things that go off quickly, but on the other hand you do have to stock the things people want. It’s not really a mystery or a secret. You just have to be intelligent about it, and understand your customers – your local market.

  ‘You know yourself, a small shop can’t compete on price or range with the big supermarkets in town, but we can provide a local service. Good choice, quality, reliable, here-right-now. That’s our strength. We occupy what the experts call a niche market.’

  ‘Do you keep fresh bread?’

  ‘We sell it – but we don’t keep it. I get a delivery every morning. When it’s gone, it’s gone.’

  ‘So people have to come early for it?’

  ‘Or order it. Then we can keep it for them.’

  ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘But I do have a little secret contingency plan.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I freeze some of it, as well. So if someone is too late or hasn’t ordered it... A good customer, say. I can let them have a fresh loaf that’s been frozen. I can always find something for them.’

  ‘The same with milk, and so on?’

  Gordon nodded. ‘Yes. I have some big freezer units in the garage. So I can nearly always find something for a customer. That keeps them coming back.’

  ‘You’ll be more expensive, though?’ Matthew suggested.

  ‘Than what? The supermarket? Not when you consider that a road trip to a supermarket will cost someone five or six pounds in petrol, or half a day on the bus. Yes for a big, monthly shop, but not for small quantities or everyday things that you want right now.’

  He was really on top of things, Anna thought. He knew exactly where his strengths and weaknesses lay, and he used the knowledge effectively. This was how to run a village shop! She felt quite envious.

  ‘What about meat and fish?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, people can always have it frozen. If they want it fresh, they either take pot luck with what I have or else they order it. I’ll take orders.’

  ‘You seem to have thought of everything.’


  ‘Not quite, but we do try.’

  That use of "we" raised another question.

  ‘You don’t do all this on your own, surely?’

  ‘Not really.’ Gordon chuckled and shook his head. ‘No, it’s simply not possible. It’s a two-person operation.’

  He looked round as the doorbell clanged and another customer appeared. ‘Sorry, but I need to get on. When you’ve finished your coffee, Matthew, why don’t you see if you can find Kay? She’s out the back somewhere.’

  Chapter Eight

  Matthew led Anna through a doorway into the house proper.

  ‘What a nice old place,’ she remarked, glancing around with interest.

  ‘It is. Too big, though.’

  ‘Do you think so? It seems a lovely family home to me.’

  ‘Except there’s just the two of them. They’re finding it difficult to start a family.’

  They found Kay in the garden at the back of the house. She was on her hands and knees, digging with a hand fork.

  ‘What are you up to?’ Matthew called.

  ‘Hi, Matty!’ she said, looking over her shoulder. ‘What a nice surprise. Hello!’ she added, getting to her feet when she saw there was someone else with him.

  ‘Anna, Kay,’ Matthew said, with minimum ceremony.

  ‘Goodness. I wasn’t expecting company.’ Kay got to her feet, brushing herself down. ‘Just look at me!’

  Anna smiled. ‘Please don’t mind me. You’re gardening. We’ve just been looking round the shop,’ she added.

  ‘Gordon would enjoy that.’

  ‘It’s quite a place. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kay smiled and added, ‘We are rather proud of it.’

  She led them over to a patio, where they sat on summer chairs that had appeared early.

  ‘You have a lovely garden, as well,’ Anna said, glancing round.

  ‘It could be lovely but we don’t really have time for it. If you want some advice, Anna, don’t ever take on a village shop. It takes over your life.’

  ‘Too late,’ Matthew said. ‘She already has one.’

  ‘Oh?’ Kay looked at her with fresh interest.

  ‘It’s not mine. I just run it. Not for much longer, though. The owner has decided to close at the end of the month.’

  ‘That’s wonderful! You’ll be free.’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna said with a sigh. ‘That’s how I’m beginning to feel. Unemployed, but free.’

  *

  Afterwards they left Longwitton and drove on a little further, heading for Lynn Spout, a picturesque waterfall. Matthew was quiet. Anna was grateful for that. She was thinking about what they had just seen and heard. And there was such a lot to think about.

  They left the car beside the road and set off on the footpath that led up through woodland to the Spout.

  ‘The shop was what you meant, wasn’t it?’ Anna said eventually. ‘When you said there was something you wanted me to see?’

  Matthew nodded. ‘I thought you might be interested.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘Because you thought it might get me thinking?’

  Matthew looked innocent. ‘Who, me?’

  ‘Don’t give me that, Matthew Greig! You knew perfectly well what you were doing all along.’

  He grinned but he didn’t deny it. So it hadn’t been a date, after all. He had just been trying to help her. Well, she couldn’t complain about that. No-one else had tried to help her.

  ‘You’re wasted on fences, Matthew. You should be in parliament.’

  ‘And you should be in business for yourself,’ he said firmly. ‘Never mind the Wilsons. You should have your own shop, Anna.’

  ‘There’s a lot to consider, you know, even without thinking about the money that would be needed. It would be a big undertaking.’

  ‘True. But you’d be good at it. And it’s not as if it would be new to you. You’ve been in the trade long enough. You’ve got the contacts. You know what to do. You’re well known in the area, and very well thought of.’

  All of which, except the last point, she knew to be true.

  ‘They would help, you know.’

  ‘Who? Gordon and Kay?’

  He nodded.

  ‘No, they wouldn’t. I would be a competitor.’

  ‘Not this far away. Non-one from Callerton goes to Longwitton to shop.’

  That was probably true, too. Matthew knew what he was talking about. She looked at him afresh.

  ‘What?’ he said defensively.

  ‘You have a good business head on your shoulders, young Master Matthew.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Ma’am!’

  He touched an invisible cap – or was it an invisible forelock? She laughed and clutched his arm.

  ‘What a lot you’ve given me to think about. Thank you so much. But let’s not do any more of that today. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.’

  ‘Just one thing I want you to remember,’ he said.

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘I’ll help, as well – if I can, and if you want me to.’

  She squeezed his arm in acknowledgement. She was, she realised, having to think about Matthew in a different way. He really was a businessman.

  Chapter Nine

  Disappointingly, she heard no more from Matthew. She had hoped, and expected, to see him again very soon after their lovely day together, but it hadn’t happened. Obviously, she decided, he had just been trying to cheer her up. He wasn’t really interested in her. The shop talk had been for the same reason. Matthew being kind. Still, it had been a nice day, and when such days came along you just had to accept them and then get on with your life.

  But one day she received a surprise visitor in the shop. The clang of the doorbell brought her racing through from the stock room. It was Don, Peggy’s Canadian cousin.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ she said.

  ‘Hi, there!’ He chuckled at her obvious surprise. ‘So this is where you hang out?’

  ‘Every day,’ she said, smiling, and refraining from adding that it was only until the end of the month.

  Don was gazing around the shop with apparent interest.

  ‘You’re looking for something in particular?’ she asked.

  ‘No. I’m just wondering what you stock.’

  ‘Not very much, I’m afraid. We’re not a supermarket or a department store.’

  ‘I can see that.’ He turned towards her and smiled. ‘But you must be the only shop for miles?’

  ‘At least seven,’ she confirmed. ‘Some people rely on us for their everyday needs.’

  ‘I’ll bet. Seven miles, eh?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Back home,’ Don told her, ‘I would happily drive twenty miles across the city to get to a place I like to shop.’

  ‘Really? It must be a big place.’

  ‘It sure is, and getting bigger every day.’

  ‘Well, not everyone could do that here, even if Callerton were big enough. Some people don’t have a car. Some are too old, or infirm, to drive. And some are too young!’

  Don laughed with appreciation. ‘And cabs are in short supply, I guess?’

  ‘Non-existent.’

  ‘Buses?’

  ‘Much the same. You can get a bus to Alnwick some afternoons, and to Berwick every Friday.’

  ‘As often as that? Well, folks here have no real need of a car, do they?’

  She laughed. Who said Canadians had no sense of humour? Carol, probably. Or was it Peggy?

  She quite liked Don. He was very handsome, with his jet black hair and olive complexion. He was a big man, too. Over six feet tall and well built. Not to mention smartly dressed, in his fashionable smart-casual clothes.

  ‘Do you play that game – American Football?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘In Canada we play Canadian Football.’

  ‘Soccer?’

  ‘No. It’s like the US game, but with slightly different
rules and fewer men.’

  ‘Fewer men? Why?’

  ‘Our men are bigger. Besides, we Canadians like wide-open spaces.’

  ‘But didn’t I read somewhere that most of you live in big cities?’

  ‘Nearly all of us. That’s true. But we think we like wide-open spaces, and maybe for some of the time we actually do – at weekends, say, and on vacation.’

  Anna laughed again and shook her head. ‘So do you play Canadian Football?’

  ‘Used to. At high school. Not any more, though. I don’t play hockey any more either.’

  ‘Ice hockey?’

  He nodded.

  ‘What do you play now?’

  ‘Making money mostly.’

  ‘Really? And you enjoy that game?’

  ‘Very much. I aim to make enough to retire before I’m forty.’

  ‘Goodness! You do look ahead.’

  ‘How about you, Anna? What are your plans?’

  ‘Oh, mine only go another couple of weeks. Then I retire. At least, I look for another job. Mr. Wilson is closing the shop.’

  ‘That’s too bad. So what will you do then?’

  ‘No idea at the moment. But something will come up, I expect.’

  Don considered this and then said, ‘A couple of weeks? That’s a long way off. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. What are you doing this afternoon? Working?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s my half-day.’

  ‘Half-day?’

  ‘You don’t know about that?’

  He shook his head. She felt a need to explain the traditional custom, one still observed in Callerton.

  ‘We’re open all day Saturday. So Mr. Wilson insists on me having a half-day on a Wednesday. It’s old-fashioned, I know, but I don’t really mind.’

  Don nodded gravely, as if he found the explanation barely comprehensible. No doubt it was, she thought, to someone from a big city.

  ‘How nice for you,’ he said finally, making it sound not nice at all – which, really, it probably wasn’t if you thought about it.

  ‘In Newcastle, the big supermarkets are open twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year,’ she added a shade defensively. She didn’t want him thinking everything in this country was unreasonably quaint.

  He nodded. ‘So you’re free this afternoon?’