Page 3 of The Village Shop for Lonely Hearts

‘You could say that,’ she told him. ‘After all, our mothers have been best friends for all of their lives.’

He looked at her, incredulous. ‘You’re Amber?’

She gave him a sheepish smile, which lit up her pretty face. Josh was almost rendered speechless. He couldn’t quite believe that this attractive woman was the same Amber Green who had been a gawky teenager with huge frizzy hair.

Now she was all grown up, with her blonde hair hanging in soft waves around her shoulders. Long dark eyelashes. Pale smooth skin highlighted by freckles and a rosy blush across her cheeks. Her trendy leather jacket was also soaked at the hem and dripping water back into the river.

She nodded ruefully. ‘I’m afraid so. Sorry about, you know, taking you into the river with me.’

‘That’s OK,’ he said, standing up, which caused the water to drop from him in a small wave. ‘It’s almost like old times.’

She looked up at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t you remember?’ he said. ‘You, me and Pete used to play in our paddling pool when we were younger.’

She shook her head as she looked around. As she sat in the river, Josh took in the long legs sprawled out, the jeans as soaking wet as his own.

He shivered in the cool breeze. It was already late September and the weather was turning colder. He supposed he was lucky that it wasn’t midwinter, when he’d have either caught a cold or skidded across the frozen river.

He glanced down at Amber who still hadn’t got up.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, suddenly concerned at her lack of movement. ‘Can you stand?’

‘I’m fine,’ she told him, standing up next to him with a heavy sigh. ‘Just really, really embarrassed.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, realising that the shock of the cold water had also cooled his temper. ‘It’ll save me from needing a shower later on.’

She bent down to pick up her handbag, which was also in the water. He watched as she examined the contents inside, most of which were probably ruined. However the mobile phone she brought out to check seemed to be still working.

Then they both waded across the river towards the bank at the same time. Stepping out of the water, he held out a hand to help her out as well.

Once on the riverbank, she had just thanked him when the front door of the shop was flung open and he heard his mum shout out. ‘Amber? Is that you?’

‘Hi, Cathy,’ said Amber, as his mum strode up to them.

Despite the possibility of getting her own clothes damp, his mum enveloped Amber into one of her bear hugs. ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, eventually stepping back. ‘Your mum sent me a text to say that you’d landed safely this morning. What on earth happened to you both?’ she asked, looking them both up and down. ‘Are you OK?’

‘We’re fine,’ Josh told her. ‘We took a tumble into the river, so we’re just a little soggy around the edges.’

‘It’s all my fault,’ said Amber, a blush spreading across her cheeks. ‘I’m so clumsy.’

‘You’re telling me,’ said Josh, trying to make light of it.

But Cathy gave her son a stern glance. It was hardly surprising given that he’d stormed out only a few minutes ago after their latest row. It was about the shop, of course. It was always about the shop these days.

‘Well, I remember you breaking your wrist on our trampoline all those years ago, but I’d have thought you might have grown out of it. Goodness, you must be freezing. Let’s get you sorted before you catch a cold.’ His mum wrapped her arm around Amber and led her towards the front door of the shop. ‘Come inside, both of you, and warm up.’

Josh followed them across the lane and towards Cranbridge Stores. As always since he had returned two years previously, the sight of the dilapidated shop made him sad. It should never have got to this stage and yet here they were, stuck in an endless cycle of misery with no way out.

He went up the couple of squeaky wooden steps onto the veranda in front of the shop. At one time, his dad had sat there on a rocking chair and played his guitar almost every summer’s evening. But that seemed a very long time ago and now the veranda lay empty.

As his mum pushed open the shop door, he heard the ring of the rusty bell that had hung above the door for as long as he could remember. He had always thought that it was supposed to herald the many customers that would come and go. But it was a rare sound. Customers were very infrequent these days.

He glanced up Riverside Lane but, as usual, there was no one around, let alone anyone keen to shop in Cranbridge Stores. And who could blame them, he thought as they stepped over the threshold and into the shop. On a damp and dismal autumnal morning, it seemed to look even worse than usual. The strip lighting that was thirty years out of date was harsh in its glare, highlighting the full-to-bursting shop. Every area, every shelf and almost every aisle was filled with boxes and goods. There was no organisation to it all, just everything crammed in, making the aisles narrow and not easy to manoeuvre around.

As Amber proved by immediately knocking over a tower of biscuit boxes that had been squeezed into the ever-decreasing space.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered, glancing around wide-eyed, clearly in shock at the state of the place.