Peppermint Kiss by Kelly McKain

into the kitchen and…
    â€œWoah!” they gasped at once.
    Mum was sitting at the table behind a huge pile of cash and, weirdly, a plate of carefully arranged Viscount biscuits.
    â€œOh my God, did you rob a bank?” Saff cried. “There’s, like, a million quid there.”
    Grace gave her a withering look and was just about to speak when Mum said, “Nine and a half thousand actually. I could have got more but I didn’t have much bargaining power because I needed the money on the spot.”
    â€œBut how…?” Grace began.
    â€œI sold my engagement ring,” said Mum.
    â€œMum!” Grace shrieked. “That’s supposed to be a family heirloom! And anyway, what were you thinking, walking round town with that kind of cash on you? You could have been mugged!”
    â€œGrace, calm down!” Mum cried. “Liam was here doing the skirting board and he drove me to the jeweller’s. I’m glad I had him with me too, because they were only offering eight thousand to start with and he talked them up.”
    Meanwhile, the wheels in Saff’s brain had been turning. “Yes! Get in!” she whooped suddenly. “Now we’re loaded, I can still go up to London for my singing lessons, and get a whole new wardrobe, and—”
    â€œWe are
not
loaded,” Mum said firmly. “This is for our
rent
.” Then she smiled, and winked at me. “And our new business.”
    I absolutely screamed then. “Really? We’ve got enough money?” I shrieked.
    Mum nodded. “Just.”
    I threw myself at her and hugged her tight. “That’s amazing! Oh, that’s fantastic!” I felt in shock, like I couldn’t take it in.
    Grace and Saff gaped at her. “Seriously?” Grace gasped.
    â€œWe’re actually doing it?” cried Saff.
    Mum grinned. “Yep. We’ll have to be really, really strict with the budget, though.” She slapped Saff’s hand away from the biscuit plate. “And don’t touch those, they’re for Mr. Vulmer.”
    â€œWhat?” Grace snarled. “We can’t let that man in here, not after how threatening he was to us last week! We should have called the police!”
    Mum grimaced. “Oh, come on, Grace, that’s a bit overdramatic,” she said. “He didn’t threaten us, and it’s true we haven’t paid him a penny as yet, so I’m not surprised he’s annoyed. But, in case you’ve forgotten, we need to rent the shop downstairs from him to make any of this happen. It’ll take a major charm offensive to get him to agree to let us have it with our tiny budget, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
    Mum glanced at her watch and leaped up. “Oh goodness, we’ve only got ten minutes. Quick, give me a hand to tidy up.”
    I did say that trying to tidy up was a bit pointless because the flat actually looked better with our stuff strewn around it, covering up the grossness. But Mum gave me such an exasperated look that I picked up our bags and the growing pile of recycling on the kitchen counter and shoved it all in the bathroom.
    The doorbell rang and then there was the scratching of a key in the lock. Mum took a deep breath and smoothed down her blouse and skirt. “Remember, girls – charm offensive,” she said sternly and then swished off into the hallway.
    â€œDo come in,” we heard her say in her poshest voice.
    â€œI will, seeing as it’s my flat,” Mr. Vulmer replied gruffly, wheezing his way up the hall and into the kitchen. We all stood in a line by the table, smiling, trying not to look alarmed by the scarily-bright palm-tree-patterned shirt he was wearing. We said a cheery “hello” in unison, but Mr. Vulmer ignored us. He’d clocked the pile of bank notes on the table, though. We’d put most of it away, for the business (well, fingers crossed), but the rest sat