Chapter 26
Bonnie ran the shop by herself for the next two days. On the Monday Lew was on a stock-finding mission in York. It wasn’t really worth opening up as only three customers visited and didn’t buy anything, but still it was much better than being at home with Stephen. On the Tuesday, Lew was at a giant antiques fayre in Newark. As Bonnie, in sole charge, walked around the shop, she let herself imagine that it belonged to her. That the Rainbow Lady earned so much profit she had bought it from Lew outright, or better still gone into partnership with him because her days would be much greyer without him in them. She had him to blame for her increasing agitation with her home life, for which she both cursed and blessed him. She’d thought it was possible to live without love. When Joel died, she’d tried to convince herself that life would be so much easier without having her heart broken over and over again. Emphasis on companionship rather than passion seemed the perfect way forward, but she’d been wrong.
There was a steady stream of customers that morning, but nothing that Bonnie couldn’t manage. No traders came in to refill their units though, which was unusual. Vintage Valerie hadn’t missed a Tuesday so far, but she wasn’t here today. She and Jack had fallen into the pattern of going to the teashop next door for breakfast and Bonnie wondered how she’d be feeling. Valerie probably saw more of Jack than his own wife did. Bonnie had tried to ring her home a few times, but Valerie hadn’t picked up.
Bonnie was just about to close a deal on a grandfather clock when in came a twittering couple of women, both very well-dressed and in heels, one blonde and one brunette. The latter was carrying a Chaput crocodile handbag, which Bonnie recognised immediately. It turned her stomach to think of the doomed life of the farmed animal from which it came.
‘I have to confess that I pretended I wasn’t in. Isn’t that awful? I saw her number and I let the machine take it,’ the one with the long blonde hair, tiny waist and springy boobs was saying to the other woman as she approached the counter with some urgency, scanning the room for the person in charge. Then she spotted Bonnie and marched over, interrupting her sales spiel.
‘You must be er . . . I’m Lewis’s wife Charlotte.’
So this was the famous what-was-her-name, thought Charlotte. And to think a couple of times she’d actually had stabs of jealousy that this woman spent so much time with her husband. She needn’t have worried though. She was very average: neither tall nor short, slim but with no spectacular curves. She’d had no surgical intervention, that was clear. Unremarkable face, nose neither small nor large, Charlotte noticed a bump on the bridge that she’d have had ironed out had it been hers. This woman’s lips looked naturally full and plump, without the duck-like fake protrusion that Regina’s had. But it was her eyes that attracted Charlotte’s attention the most: large and browny-green, fringed with thick, dark lashes. Those eyes lent an ordinary-looking woman more beauty than she should have had.
At the same time that Charlotte was appraising Bonnie, Bonnie was thinking, So this was Lew’s wife. She’d expected her to be pretty, with a lovely figure and she’d been right. What she hadn’t expected was her to look as if she had just come out of a mould with her cloud of blonde, lacquered hair and none-too-friendly red pout. She’d imagined Charlotte to be softer, fresher, smilier, not exuding snootiness through her high-heeled stance and granite-faced expression.
‘I’ve left my purse so I’m taking some money from the till, okay?’ Charlotte informed her husband’s assistant, turning on her fancy heel and flouncing back to the counter.
Bonnie’s warning flags shot up. She wouldn’t have thought Lew’s wife would be the sort of person to walk in and make that kind of demand. Quick as a flash, Bonnie skirted around her and placed herself in front of the till.
‘I’m sorry but you can’t do that.’
Charlotte looked over at Regina who pulled a half-shocked, half-amused face. Then she turned back to Bonnie. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘You could be anyone,’ said Bonnie. What a horrid position to be put in, she thought. She had no reason to believe it wasn’t Charlotte, but without proof she couldn’t allow her access to the till.
Charlotte smiled politely but impatiently. ‘But I’m not just anyone. I’m the owner of this shop,’ she said as she made to push past Bonnie. Bonnie barred her passage with her arm.
‘Look, just to be on the safe side do you mind whilst I ring Lew?’
Regina gave a hoot of laughter and Charlotte’s cheeks began to heat.
‘I’LL ring my husband, LEWIS,’ Charlotte emphasised and scrabbled in her handbag, a very expensive Burberry, noted Bonnie. She pulled out her mobile and tapped a lot at the screen, getting flustered as she entered the wrong pass code, then the wrong contact name. She crossed her arms waiting for Lew to pick up, but it went to voicemail. She tried again and this time let it record her voice.
‘Lewis, can you please ring me urgently. And I mean urgently.’
Then she tried again and growled as once more it went to voicemail. She marched out of earshot and recorded a very angry message. ‘Lewis, why aren’t you picking up? I’ve tried both your mobiles and I’m getting nothing but your stupid answering machine. Your woman in the shop is refusing to let me get some money out of the till. She’s totally ridiculed me in front of everyone so you better ring me back. NOW.’ She pressed end call so hard that the phone flew out of her hand and she had to bend down to pick it up. By the time she had straightened herself, her face was as scarlet as her shoe-soles.
Bonnie stood resolutely by the till, even though the man with the clock was trying to get her attention.
‘That is your boss’s wife,’ said Regina with a nasty little smile. ‘I’d just give her the money if I were you.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ replied Bonnie.
‘Just show her some ID, Charlotte,’ huffed Regina impatiently.
‘I haven’t got any.’ Charlotte ground the words through clenched teeth. ‘It’s all in my purse which I’ve forgotten, which is why I’m here.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Bonnie shook her head. ‘Unless I have permission . . .’
‘Why on earth would I come in here and say it if I wasn’t his wife?’ Charlotte tried to keep the volume on her voice down but it seeped through on alternate words.
‘I’m really sorry but I still can’t let you open that till.’
‘Absolutely ridiculous. This is stupid beyond stupid. You are stupid beyond stupid. Do I look like a shoplifter?’ She spread her arms out and showed off her expensive linen swing jacket, the sharp cut shirt and skirt, the gold necklace at her throat, the newly touched up hair roots, immaculate nails, immobile forehead.
‘I won’t take that chance with someone else’s money, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s my bloody money as well, you stup—’ Charlotte’s anger spilled over the top of the pan before she managed to slam the lid back on it. She was not only feeling humiliated in front of Regina but also a couple of other customers were showing interest in what was going on and looked primed to jump in to prevent a burglary. She stabbed her nail at Bonnie. ‘You are in big trouble when my husband rings me, lady,’ she said.
Regina, who ate shop assistants for breakfast and was bored with this impasse now, attempted to push past Bonnie with a well-aimed bony elbow in her side. ‘For fuck’s sake, get out of my way,’ she snarled, but she was ill-prepared for Bonnie’s slick body twist and seconds later, Regina found herself being fast propelled out of the shop with her arm twisted behind her back, Charlotte teetering behind in pin-heels screeching like an injured parrot.
‘Look, I’m sorry if you are who you say you are,’ said Bonnie breathlessly at the door to Charlotte as Regina stretched the agony out of her arm, all the while swearing and growling as if possessed. ‘But if you really are Lew’s wife, you have to see it from my side. You wouldn’t like me emptying the till into the hands of someone I don’t know,’ she said.
‘You are so sacked,’ said Charlotte, further infuriated by the sound of applause coming from the customers inside the shop. And if Lewis didn’t sack the bitch, Charlotte would leave him.