Ettie pushed her way through an unexpected crowd of people milling about like lost but very curious sheep, and stuttered to a halt. Damn and double damn. A police cordon on Wellbeck Road at ten in the morning. OK, ten past ten. Possibly quarter past. All right, twenty-five past. She was well and truly late. Her own fault, she shouldnāt have pushed to do another two lengths during her regular swim in the pool, but Mr Iām-such-a-fantastic-swimmer-and-donāt-I-look-great-in-my-budgie-smugglers had been showing off with his flashy freestyle in the lane next to her and sheād been determined not to get out of the water before him. And then sheād had to do her hair and make-up, although feasibly she could blame that on her boss, Sally, who insisted that Ettie looked the part even though she hated the bright-red matt lipstick she had to wear. Triple damn. Her boss would not be happy about opening up this late, not that you saw many customers in this part of London before midday.
She was about to duck under the flimsy black-and-yellow tape that quite frankly wouldnāt have stopped an ant in its tracks, when a large, uniformed policeman loomed in front of her. He, however, might well have stopped an elephant. She stared at the fluorescent-yellow vest he wore for a moment before giving him a brilliant smile.
āHello, officer.ā
He grinned back with a decided I-know-what-you-were-up-to smirk. āMorning.ā Despite the grin, his bulk didnāt move an inch.
āCan I just get through? I work down there.ā Ettie found charm got you a long way in lots of situations. She pointed, trying to peer over his bulk and failing miserably. āDo you play rugby?ā she asked, examining what had to be prop forward shoulders. Her grandad was a big rugby league fan, sheād been to a game or two in her time.
āIt has been known,ā he said, blinking at her as if trying to remember why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing.
She beamed at him and went to step forward again.
āNot so fast, Miss. Iām sorry, you canāt come through.ā
āBut Iām soooo late for work!ā The pitiful wail unfortunately had no effect, although his face sobered.
āWhere do you work?ā
āSomething Old. The vintage clothes shop. Just down there. Canāt I just go through?ā She pointed again.
Suddenly there was an almighty bang. Ettieās ears popped as the ground shook, car alarms began to shriek and a few hundred metres away brittle glass spat out of windows, raining down on the ground.
With a horrified shock, everyone stared down the road at the rising puffball cloud of dust as a column of flames licked the air, wreathed in acrid smoke.
āThat would be a no then,ā said Ettie, more to herself than anyone else, her heart pounding as pieces of information clicked into place, brick by brick like Lego. If sheād been on time, sheād have already been in the shop, making her first coffee of the day in the back, checking her phone. Sheād have ignored any knock on the door as she never opened up before her first shot of caffeine had hit the target. Opening times in her book were of the flexible variety. Usually when she was ready. It wasnāt as if buying second-hand clothes constituted any kind of emergency.
Her knees went a little wobbly and to her utter amazement, because she wasnāt a swoony sort of girl, she found herself sinking to the floor. They always said (whoever ātheyā were ā a question Ettie asked herself frequently) that in times of near death, your life flashes before you. Well, ātheyā had it nailed. That was exactly what was happening to her as she sat on the cold pavement, her legs splayed out in front of her, the bright-rose pattern of her skirt incongruous against the pitted and cracked paving slabs. She liked this skirt. Please donāt let there be chewing gum or dog poo on the floor.
Thirty and still waiting for her life proper to start. She lived in a crappy house with four other people she barely knew; had to write her name on her milk, which still didnāt deter the midnight milk thief; couldnāt so much as chill a bottle of wine in the fridge for more than half an hour because that baby would be long gone, and donāt even get her started on the daily battle against the mould in the bathroom which had stained the grouting beyond saving.
As for her job ā the latest in a very long line ā it turned out that working in a vintage clothes shop wasnāt quite as glamorous as sheād been led to believe. In truth it was more like working in a charity shop, frequented by young people without the charity element, although she did meet some interesting people and there were perks. Last month, sheād snaffled a pair of vintage Louboutin shoes from an auction job lot of accessories, having spotted the scuffed red leather soles. And before anyone should go thinking that was thieving, she had told Sally, the owner of the shop, that sheād got her eye on a pair of shoes and paid the suggested twenty quid because Sally wasnāt fussed about looking at them. It wasnāt as if she ever got paid overtime for all the times she stayed late at the shop or had even seen so much as reimbursement for the Mac Red Rock lipstick that Sally insisted was essential for the job. Being blonde, blue-eyed and with a magnolia complexion, it really wasnāt her colour. Ettie felt you needed a brunette bob, nice thick lips and a mysterious smile to pull that look off, and possibly a trench coat that belted in the middle. She had thinnish lips that were quick and ready to smile and there was absolutely nothing mysterious about her. What you saw was what you got. Plenty of enthusiasm and not much staying power.
āAre you all right, Miss?ā asked the burly police officer, crouching down on his haunches beside her, his forehead furrowing in rather admirable concern, given she was a complete stranger. Of course, he had a proper job, he was trained for this sort of thing. She gave him a weary smile and a sigh, nodding as she tried to scramble to her feet, brushing down her skirt.
āYes. What happens now?ā she asked, staring up at the roiling plume of ugly, Mordorās Mount Doom-style smoke belching from the middle of the terrace where Something Old had once been, sandwiched between a bookieās and a bakery. She surveyed the crowd and saw the guy who was always smoking outside the betting shop, standing talking to Jean and Jan, the ladies who ran the bakery, and who took it in turns to pop in and see her to scrounge a coffee in exchange for one of yesterdayās leftover buns.
Jean caught her eye and with Jan in her wake, bustled over.
āMy, youāre a sight for sore eyes. We were worried you might be inside. Gary said he smelled gas as soon as he opened up the betting shop this morning. He called the gas board. Just as well. The police only just evacuated us in time.ā As Jean spoke, Jan, paler than usual ā and she was quite pale to start with ā wrung her hands, the agitated movement compensating for her uncharacteristic silence. Normally it was hard to get a word in edgeways with either of them.
āThank goodness I was late.ā Ettie stared at the debris littering the tarmac further down the road, still not quite able to believe what had happened. The thoughts in her brain didnāt seem to know which way to turn. Sheād only done the new window display yesterday. That had been a waste of time. Would she be able to get back into the shop to retrieve the good coat sheād set aside for next monthās pay cheque? Would there be a next monthās pay cheque? Was all the stock damaged? There were too many things to think about and when she found her voice again, it was very small and defeated. āI donāt know what Sallyās going to say.ā
āWell, letās just hope sheās got good insurance,ā said Jean.
It turned out that Sally didnāt have good insurance. She didnāt have any insurance at all.
āNever seemed worth it,ā she said dolefully, on the phone, when Ettie finally got through to her three hours later from the less than comforting privacy of her boxroom bedroom. The police had already delivered the bad news to her boss, as had her landlord, the neighbourās landlord, numerous friends on Instagram and a news reporter from London Tonight. āOnly an idiot would insure a bunch of old clothes.ā While Sally had assumed that the landlordās buildings insurance covered the shop in the event of a disaster, what she hadnāt factored in was the business continuity element of insurance which would have paid Ettieās salary until the shop could be opened again and would also have covered the refit and redecoration as well as the purchase of new, as in additional, stock.
āSo whatās going to happen now?ā asked Ettie, studying the alarming shade of blue furry mould in the corner of her room and imagining her and Sally, sanding back fire-blackened woodwork, painting walls and washing all the clothes. Hard work, but it sounded quite jolly. It might bring her and Sally a bit closer.
āWellllā¦ā Sally paused and Ettieās heart clenched in sudden dread. āIām afraid youāre out of a job. The shopās completely gutted and nearly all the stock burned. Whatās left stinks so badly, itāll have to go in the skip.ā
āBut couldnāt we ā¦ you know, paint it, get more stock, you knowā¦?ā Her voice trailed off, for once uncharacteristic defeat settling on her shoulders like a heavy weight. Ettie was a Prosecco-flowing-down-the-side-of-the-glass sort of girl, she always looked on the bright side of life. At least until the explosion had quite literally floored her.
āSorry, Ettie. Thereās no point opening up again. Besides, Iāve been thinking about going away travelling for a while. Running a shop is such a tie.ā
Which was laughable because Sally had pretty much left the running of the shop to Ettie. Her contribution had been going to auctions and buying shedloads of tat and leaving it for Ettie to sort through to find saleable gear.
Ettie winced as she finally hung up the call and glared up at the blue fur skirting the ceiling, thinking about Aliona, the girl whoād had the room above until last month when sheād moved out to a much swankier pad. Enough was enough. After being a chambermaid for two years, Aliona had taken an online bookkeeping course and had got a much better paid job with, as sheād told Ettie, prospects. Sheād been promoted in just three months and the company were always looking for more people.
Ettie had been wondering whether it was something she should consider, not terribly seriously until now but, she sighed, perhaps she should give it a go. The thought of it bored the pants off her, but todayās near brush with death told her that it was past time to get a decent job and start being a proper grown-up. Clearly trying to discover what she really wanted to do with her life wasnāt working out for her.
