Part 19 (1/2)

Gwen forced a smile. 'Well, he's right.'

'What about your stock, though? Mum said you sold stuff. At car boot sales.'

'Not exactly car boots.' Gwen kept her voice light. 'More like antique fairs, craft markets, that kind of thing.'

Katie pulled a face. 'Sounds boring.'

'It can be.'

'So where is it?'

'What?'

Katie sighed. 'Your stock. Your business stuff.'

'I used to use a storage facility in Birmingham.'

'More renting?'

Gwen crossed her arms. 'It makes sense; I can move it if I want to, although Birmingham is quite handy. Kind of in the middle of the country.'

'But you don't use it any more?'

'No. I've downsized. I just keep my stock in Nanette now.'

'It's not a big business then.'

'Not any more. No.'

'Why not?'

Gwen, who had once withstood four hours of police questioning, gave in. 'Things haven't been going so well. Between you and me, the business is pretty much washed-up.'

'Oh.' Katie paused. 'What are you going to do?'

'I have no idea,' Gwen said. She felt a loosening in her chest as soon as the words were out. It didn't seem as awful to admit as she'd thought.

'What do you want to do?'

Gwen forced a smile. 'Now that's a difficult question.' I want to run my business and make enough money so that I don't keep waking up in the night in a panic. I don't want to have the Finding. I want to live a quiet, normal life.

'You should move your business stuff into the house. Then you can work on it properly.' Katie threw her arms wide. 'You've got this whole place.'

'Well-'

'But you're not staying?' Katie let her arms drop.

Gwen was stung by how hurt Katie looked. She took a step towards her. 'I don't have any plans-'

'When are you selling this place? Just give me some warning, okay? I don't want to come by after school and get slapped in the face by a For Sale sign in your front garden.'

'I don't have any plans to sell this house, Katie,' Gwen said as gently as she could. 'I can't for a while, anyway, and I might stay. I like it-'

'But not enough to move your stock in. Or your stuff from the van. Yeah, you're not staying.' Katie flung open the back door and headed into the garden, throwing over her shoulder, 'Mum was right.'

'Hey.' Gwen caught up with her halfway down the lawn. 'I might stay. I've never had a proper home before, so I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel.'

Katie rubbed her arms. Her nose was already pink from the cold. 'Whatever. You've gotta do what you've gotta do.' She pointed at the outbuilding. 'That would make a good stockroom, though. You could make it into an office. For your computer, packaging stuff, all that.'

'I don't use a computer.'

Katie looked at her pityingly. 'You should. Take a cla.s.s or something.'

'Why?' Gwen said, ready to hear the joys of BookFace or VidTube.

'Sell your stuff online. Much better than hanging around crusty old fairs.'

'Crusty?'

'Probably. And wet. I bet you get rained on all the time.'

'Sometimes,' Gwen said, feeling a little faint.

'Let's look.' Katie crossed to the building and pushed at the door.

'It's locked.' Gwen got the key and opened it. Katie was right. The s.p.a.ce was perfect. Before, she'd been distracted by mysteries and magic and silly superst.i.tion, but she could see the shelves full of stationery and mailing supplies, and a computer desk on the far wall. She could store things up above in the half-boarded loft, use the table in the middle for packing.

'What's it called? Your shop.'

'Curious Notions.'

Katie wrinkled her nose. 'Could be worse.'

'Thanks,' Gwen said dryly. 'Haberdashery like bobbins, needles and b.u.t.tons is called ”notions” and I just liked the way it sounded.'

'Well, you probably need to stick with it. You've already got customers; you want them to be able to find you.'

'They can always find me; I do the same shows every year.'

'But you won't have to,' Katie said, clearly exasperated. 'That's the whole point. You won't have to trail around the place any more. You can stay here.'

Gwen smiled at her. 'Do you want me to stay here?'

Katie gave her a superior look. 'I don't care one way or the other.'

'Right.' Gwen's smile widened. 'I love you too, honeybunch.'

The next day, Gwen crossed the town bridge, leaving the jumbled cottages and cobbled streets for the grander town houses on the other side of the river. Cameron Laing territory. She started scouting the pavements, as if her desire to see him would make him magically appear. The houses climbed the hill, creamy sandstone peeking from behind evergreens and the bare branches of oak and elm.

The Greenhouse restaurant was a monstrosity of modernism and gla.s.s awkwardly tacked onto a town house in what could only be described as a travesty of planning permission.