Beryl's BOUTIQUE

Her heart had been closed for business, but was it time to open up?

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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, ‘Thanks so much for doing this, Mum, love you.’ 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.’

It was Beryl’s first day on the job and she felt nervous. She had arrived early, keen to get a feel for the place if she was to be in charge.

She hung up her jacket in the small room at the rear of the shop, then glanced at herself in one of the boutique’s full-length mirrors. She pushed her brown hair, now flecked with grey, behind her ears. She knew her skin was her best feature, creamy and smooth, but devoid of all make-up.

Straightening the top of her pale blue tracksuit, she inspected her posture. Then, shoulders back and head held high, she strode towards the door. Time to change that Closed sign to Open.

Nothing happened immediately. There was no stampede of customers, or a queue outside. A few people were now out on the street and other shop windows were coming to life. It was still early.