The street was deserted, but Beryl knew it would soon be buzzing with people. The morning air was chilly, but felt fresh.
With a turn of a key, the door opened and she stepped inside the shop. She felt she shouldn’t really be there. Except of course, she should, and she wondered, not for the first time, what on earth she had let herself in for.
Beryl switched on the lights and the small shop sprang into life. Only, it wasn’t a shop, it was a ‘boutique’. She had been reminded by Tracey, time and time again. The bright walls, in a kaleidoscope of colours, leapt out at her as she took the pouches of money from her handbag and placed them in the till.
She let out a small, happy breath on spotting a Post-it note staring back at her. Tracey’s bold scrawl announced, Beryl’s heart melted, but still she questioned… ‘What have I taken on? Agreeing to look after my daughter’s boutique while she swans off for a girly two-week break.’
