Page 21 of The Village Shop for Lonely Hearts

‘Well, the windows are done,’ said Amber, blushing and wringing her hands together with nerves. ‘I hope it’s OK.’

Cathy clapped her hands in glee. ‘Oh, I’ve been so desperate to take a peek, but I promised you I wouldn’t! I can’t wait to see what you’ve done.’

Josh followed them somewhat less enthusiastically. They headed through the shop, weaving their way through the muddle and out to the veranda before turning to face the bay windows.

But what Josh saw made his mouth drop open in surprise. For a start, he’d had no idea how big the windows really were. They seemed enormous now that they were clutter-free and decorated. And how!

Inside, the windowsill was covered by the gingham red and white checked cloth, on top of which were placed various wooden crates, vases, the wicker baskets and even some conkers and acorns. Bare branches had been wrapped in pale fairy lights bringing an almost festive feel to the whole display. Amber also appeared to have glued many different-coloured dried leaves and strung them across the tops of the window. Both windows were a mirror image of the other.

Even better, he noticed that inside the wicker baskets, Amber had placed some of the biscuits and tinned food that he was desperate to sell. He was impressed that she knew about the power of product placement.

The whole arrangement was excellent, he had to concede. It looked warm, full of countryside charm. Pretty but sophisticated as well, although he couldn’t for the life of himself think how she had achieved that with such simple items.

‘Hasn’t she done well?’ said Grandma Tilly, beaming with what appeared to be pride.

‘Oh, Amber!’ cried his mum. ‘It looks wonderful! I knew you could do it!’

She stepped forward to give a clearly embarrassed Amber a hug.

Then his mum stepped back to give Josh a stern look as if to prompt him to say something nice.

‘It’s pretty good,’ he finally said, with a nod. He looked back at the windows once more. ‘Remarkable, in fact.’

Amber shrugged her shoulders, still embarrassed. ‘It’s easy when you know how,’ she told them.

‘But we don’t, if you haven’t already realised,’ he told her, grinning. ‘So take the compliment and run with it.’

Her smile faltered for a second before she was swept inside with his mum and Grandma Tilly.

Amber was obviously talented but the complete lack of confidence in herself was something else altogether. The question was why? What had happened to her to make her think that her obvious talents were so lowly?

Later on, Amber went with his mum to watch a girly film at Grandma Tilly’s bungalow. Josh left them to it. In a way, it was nice that his mum had some female company. She didn’t get out much since recovering from her illness, which worried him. She had always been so full of life. It was a stark contrast to the almost angry woman that she had become.

Once he had closed up the shop, Josh stayed in the back room to tinker with the tractor’s engine. But it brought him no pleasure.

He could still remember the first time that his dad had appeared with the small red tractor in the lane behind the shop.

‘What’s that for?’ his mum had asked, looking horrified at yet another one of Todd’s wild ideas.

His dad was beaming from ear to ear. ‘I dunno what we’re going to do with it,’ he’d said, grinning. ‘But isn’t it a beauty? It’s a David Brown 25! Do you know how much these things are worth?’

The family had stared as one at the faded bodywork, riddled with rust and with various pieces almost hanging off.

‘Does it work?’ Pete had asked, his ten-year-old eyes wide with excitement.

Josh, hitting his cynical stride early in his teens, had drawled, ‘It’s arrived on the back of a trailer,’ to his younger brother. ‘What do you think?’

‘Listen, it’s about the opportunity, the dream!’ their dad had said, his eyes gleaming.

His mum had sighed. ‘That’s what you said when we all moved here from London.’

‘And that worked out for the best, didn’t it?’ his dad had replied, with a wink to his sons.

Back in the present, Josh’s sigh was remarkably similar to the one his mum had all those years ago.

In one way, it had worked out, moving the family out of London and into the village when Josh had been in his early teens. For a start, the pressure of modern life was well away from them, as well as the temptations that the bright lights of the city had also brought. His dad had remained clean of alcohol for the remainder of his life once they had moved to Cranbridge. He had embraced living in the country, taking the boys fishing and visiting the local pub for a Diet Coke. Best of all, he had taken up playing his guitar again. On a Sunday, when the shop was shut, he would sit on the veranda in the front and play. If Josh closed his eyes, he could still hear that sweet music.

The rest of the time, there was always music playing somewhere. On a radio or the record player. But the shop and the flat were quiet now. Too quiet.