‘We do!’ Cassie clutched Hannah with her manicured fingers as if prepared to keep her by force. The wind buffeted them and a disembodied voice from the Crafties unit swore about bloody dust in his eye as Cassie pulled up her coat collar and drew closer. ‘I know Christopher was gruff. I’m afraid he’s upset.’ A groove dug itself in between her brows.
‘I understand,’ Hannah replied politely, though she didn’t, not really. It was more than ‘gruff’ to be so overtly angry when Hannah was rescuing the project. Working on the adage of knowledge being power she added encouragingly, ‘Is it something I’ve done that’s upset him? Other than charged a fee?’
Cassie flicked back her hair, eyes wide and alarmed. ‘You? No!’ For an instant she looked as if she might cry. She sighed, as if seeing there was nothing for it but to explain. ‘Simeon … he’s not great at seeing things through. It was OK when he was younger, I suppose, but now he’s over forty Christopher feels keenly that he should have achievements to show the world. He absolutely thought that Simeon had managed it with Carlysle Courtyard and Simeon did work jolly hard. But then he went off …’ Her bottom lip trembled. ‘Christopher feels Simeon’s failed again. It’s the disappointment making him tricky. Or maybe he’s got some weird idea that you succeeding will make Simeon look worse in comparison and that’s why he’s barking at you. I am sorry.’
Sympathy now entering her heart, Hannah smiled. ‘Thanks for explaining.’ Poor Cassie was obviously doing her best and Christopher was probably a perfectly nice guy if you met him under the right circumstances. ‘So,’ she said brightly, thinking Albin had made her unnecessarily cynical about people with money. ‘The cleaning and clearing of the units is underway and my goal’s to have them all ready for traders to bring in their stock on Wednesday the ninth, six days away. They’re free to open for business any time between that and the Christmas Opening on the nineteenth. That gives me two weeks and two days to get the outdoors perfect and blitz the publicity. I’ve emailed you the link to the Carlysle Courtyard blog along with the social media usernames and passwords.’ She wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t earn every penny of that three thousand pounds. She’d worked long into last night, unable to sleep for spreadsheets dancing before her eyes and mulling over how sweet Nico had been. Hot/cold, Jekyll/Hyde Nico Pettersson.
When Cassie had approved Hannah’s idea to buy planters of heather and ivy for the courtyard and swished off in her Merc, Hannah’s attention was grabbed by an untidy woman in her fifties dashing out of Paraphernalia, beaming as if Hannah were her dearest friend. ‘You’re Hannah? I hear you’ve come to save us,’ she cried. ‘I’m Gina from Paraphernalia. I’ve put the kettle on. Come on in! Can’t wait to meet you.’
As she was by now chilled through and Gina was a tenant she’d not yet met, Hannah was only too pleased.
Over steaming coffee cradled in chilly hands, Gina glared around the interior of what would be her shop. ‘Look at all those splatters on the floor! And the emulsion’s scratched. I’ve got boxes of dreamcatchers, crystals and ceramics all over my living room but I can’t bring them into this mess.’
After her years at Creative Lanes, Hannah was well used to soothing traders’ ruffled feathers. ‘I can already imagine the scent of patchouli and the sound of wind chimes in here. People will love it!’ She was pretty sure of that. Buying unnecessary things to decorate one’s home was now a recognised British pastime. She rounded out with a dollop of reassurance. ‘You won’t recognise the place in a couple of days.’
Moving on, she found Posh Nosh now clear of builder rubble and stickers removed from windows. Perla and Teo were energetically washing down surfaces in the kitchen. Perla beamed at Hannah. ‘Miracle! We think we can open at the end of next week.’
‘Phew!’ Laughing, Hannah pretended to mop sweat from her brow, enjoying the sense of community that was budding between herself and the tenants. Till she could start ideas-storming her own next move she loved the feeling she was making something happen here.
The morning passed quickly. The estate workers were a cheerful bunch in their dark green sweatshirts, scraping, sweeping, cleaning and carrying. One with his arms full of ripped plastic wrapping that had