contained no references to pets.
‘I’m the manager. Why don’t I show you around?’ suggested Heera.
‘Not much to show, is there?’ said the woman.‘Who do you get in here, or daren’t I ask? Let me guess – dear old ladies with their knitting needles, dirty men in raincoats, impecunious students, mothers looking for next year’s Christmas presents in January?’ The woman smoothed her hair thoughtfully. ‘I’m amazed Diana has kept this outfit running so long. About two months, isn’t it? She’s right – it does need a complete makeover. She can’t keep asking Board members to send in the stock and buy it back, too. What do you get in here?’ She stopped at the window display. ‘I mean,
really!
An assortment of Wedgwood teacups and saucers , Indian trinkets, wine glasses, Jane Shilton handbags , Crabtree and Evelyn bath salts, lavender-scented candles, a china plate, the Queen’s framed photograph. What is this, a shop for geriatrics?’
She looked disdainfully at the shelves and the racks. ‘Where is your designer collection? Jaeger, Betty Barclay , Krizia? Handbags, shoes? Prada, Gucci, Fendi, Burberry? I thought not. Absolute rubbish in here. I’d say those Indian beaded necklaces are pretty, and the scarves and bags too, but this shop needs quality. It has to be trendy, chic.’ As she turned, she tripped on a piece of Lego that had detached itself from the child’s fingers. She ignored the mother’s hasty apology and wagged a stern finger at the boy. ‘That’s very dangerous, young man! Your mother should really keep you – oh, I see, you already have a leash.’
She turned to Swarnakumari. ‘Well, clearly, even if you did run an upmarket charity shop, it’s in the wrong location. Ideally, you should be somewhere like Rose Crescent. And it is absolutely pointless having Postman Pat and hot-water bottles in here; you are simply turning away the well-heeled clientele you need.’
Swarnakumari agreed, nodding her head in bewilderment.
‘Did Diana tell you about the new animal charity she wants to set up here? We are going to protect a rare species of Indonesian fox. It really is a most amazing animal, and it is being hunted for its fur, but anyway, I’m trying to convince Diana that this place would be just as marvellous as a trendy little French coffee shop instead. Monet, Manet, Matisse on the walls, croissants, pain au chocolat, café au lait – that sort of thing. It’s a good size of room, bigger than the Salvation Army shop,’ she said consideringly. ‘It would be an excellent place for the school mothers to meet. Parking is such a chore outside Browns – I’m always afraid I’ll get my wheels stuck in those ridiculous gutters of Hobson’s Conduit. It’s an absolute nightmare. Not that you have a great deal of parking here, either. None, in fact, as far as I can see. Anyway, I suppose Diana will explain it all to you. Now I simply must give her a call.’
The woman rummaged in her handbag for her mobile and placed the dog on the floor. ‘Di? Vicky Bartlett. Where
are
you? I thought we were meeting at your shop. Anyway, I’m here, and I’m through, so if you want to meet up after lunch instead … Not Browns again, sweetie … Oh well, all right, I suppose we could collect the children directly afterwards. See you in twenty minutes? Ciao.’
It happened very quickly. The dog, unaccustomed to exercise away from Victoria Bartlett’s sedentary breast, took a wobbly step forward. The child stamped on its paw. The dog yelped, Victoria Bartlett screamed and bent to scoop up the dog and glared into the child’s eyes, and the child screamed back and threw up overher Prada shoes. Victoria Bartlett left holding her dog and her temper.
‘What a time we have had,
baba
. That naughty child, the dirty vomit, cleaning,’ sighed Swarnakumari, a quarter of an hour later.
‘
You
didn’t clean up the mess, Eileen did,’ contradicted Heera. ‘And I could have kissed that child,
‘I’m the manager. Why don’t I show you around?’ suggested Heera.
‘Not much to show, is there?’ said the woman.‘Who do you get in here, or daren’t I ask? Let me guess – dear old ladies with their knitting needles, dirty men in raincoats, impecunious students, mothers looking for next year’s Christmas presents in January?’ The woman smoothed her hair thoughtfully. ‘I’m amazed Diana has kept this outfit running so long. About two months, isn’t it? She’s right – it does need a complete makeover. She can’t keep asking Board members to send in the stock and buy it back, too. What do you get in here?’ She stopped at the window display. ‘I mean,
really!
An assortment of Wedgwood teacups and saucers , Indian trinkets, wine glasses, Jane Shilton handbags , Crabtree and Evelyn bath salts, lavender-scented candles, a china plate, the Queen’s framed photograph. What is this, a shop for geriatrics?’
She looked disdainfully at the shelves and the racks. ‘Where is your designer collection? Jaeger, Betty Barclay , Krizia? Handbags, shoes? Prada, Gucci, Fendi, Burberry? I thought not. Absolute rubbish in here. I’d say those Indian beaded necklaces are pretty, and the scarves and bags too, but this shop needs quality. It has to be trendy, chic.’ As she turned, she tripped on a piece of Lego that had detached itself from the child’s fingers. She ignored the mother’s hasty apology and wagged a stern finger at the boy. ‘That’s very dangerous, young man! Your mother should really keep you – oh, I see, you already have a leash.’
She turned to Swarnakumari. ‘Well, clearly, even if you did run an upmarket charity shop, it’s in the wrong location. Ideally, you should be somewhere like Rose Crescent. And it is absolutely pointless having Postman Pat and hot-water bottles in here; you are simply turning away the well-heeled clientele you need.’
Swarnakumari agreed, nodding her head in bewilderment.
‘Did Diana tell you about the new animal charity she wants to set up here? We are going to protect a rare species of Indonesian fox. It really is a most amazing animal, and it is being hunted for its fur, but anyway, I’m trying to convince Diana that this place would be just as marvellous as a trendy little French coffee shop instead. Monet, Manet, Matisse on the walls, croissants, pain au chocolat, café au lait – that sort of thing. It’s a good size of room, bigger than the Salvation Army shop,’ she said consideringly. ‘It would be an excellent place for the school mothers to meet. Parking is such a chore outside Browns – I’m always afraid I’ll get my wheels stuck in those ridiculous gutters of Hobson’s Conduit. It’s an absolute nightmare. Not that you have a great deal of parking here, either. None, in fact, as far as I can see. Anyway, I suppose Diana will explain it all to you. Now I simply must give her a call.’
The woman rummaged in her handbag for her mobile and placed the dog on the floor. ‘Di? Vicky Bartlett. Where
are
you? I thought we were meeting at your shop. Anyway, I’m here, and I’m through, so if you want to meet up after lunch instead … Not Browns again, sweetie … Oh well, all right, I suppose we could collect the children directly afterwards. See you in twenty minutes? Ciao.’
It happened very quickly. The dog, unaccustomed to exercise away from Victoria Bartlett’s sedentary breast, took a wobbly step forward. The child stamped on its paw. The dog yelped, Victoria Bartlett screamed and bent to scoop up the dog and glared into the child’s eyes, and the child screamed back and threw up overher Prada shoes. Victoria Bartlett left holding her dog and her temper.
‘What a time we have had,
baba
. That naughty child, the dirty vomit, cleaning,’ sighed Swarnakumari, a quarter of an hour later.
‘
You
didn’t clean up the mess, Eileen did,’ contradicted Heera. ‘And I could have kissed that child,
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