After the One by Cass Lester (novels for students .txt) 📗

can help us decide what to order for the Night.’

‘Not for the shop?’ queried Tara.

‘Not yet.’

‘Why not?’ she challenged, and Charley was aware of a slight, almost imperceptible, intake of breath from Pam, sitting on the other side of her. She tried not to react, or rather to overreact, to Tara’s bossiness, telling herself that it was simply her friend’s nature.

Charley had already drawn up a spreadsheet of products she might want to sell in the shop, but had held off actually ordering anything, reluctant to spend the money until she absolutely had to. ‘I’m not even sure when I’m going to open the shop yet. I’m still getting it ready.’

‘But we may as well order stuff for the shop at the same time as the fundraiser,’ Tara pointed out logically. ‘We’ll save on delivery and probably get more discount.’ Then, since Charley appeared to remain unconvinced, Tara leant forward to peer round Charley to appeal to Pam and demanded, ‘Won’t we?’

‘Er, possibly,’ said Pam guardedly. Turning to her, Charley caught a glimmer of irritation in Pam’s eyes. It was evident she was as peeved by Tara’s high-handedness as she was.

‘I just don’t think we should rush into ordering stock, without carefully considering it beforehand,’ Charley told Tara, trying to stick to her guns.

‘We’re not rushing in,’ objected Tara. ‘We already have to order a lot of stuff for the Prosecco Night and if it’s things you also want to stock in the shop, then it makes sense to combine the two orders. It’ll be more efficient and cost-effective.’

Tara’s point made good business sense, and Charley knew it. The real reason she hadn’t ordered any stock was that she was simply too frightened to make that huge step on her own. So she gave in, but, knowing that Tara could outnumber her even in a one-to-one, she roped Pam in too for back-up. When Pam hesitated, Charley reminded her that she was a business partner as well. She went to get her laptop and all three of them clustered round the screen.

There were, as Charley had already discovered, literally hundreds of Prosecco-themed products around… scented candles and tea-light holders, bubble baths and soaps, mugs and glasses, chocolates, sweets, truffles, tote bags, fridge magnets… Despite her earlier research, the choice was still bewildering and contentious, as it was soon all too evident that they didn’t all have the same taste. Or the same assertiveness.

Tara passionately championed a pair of sparkly purple Prosecco flutes. ‘Oh-my-God those are perfect!’ she enthused.

Oh-my-God those are ghastly! thought Charley.

‘I wonder if they might be a bit too sparkly,’ Pam said diplomatically.

‘No. They’re perfect. Let’s get a dozen pairs,’ ordered Tara.

‘Um…’ Charley pursed her lips.

‘What?’ demanded Tara.

‘I’m not keen,’ rushed Charley, her gaze darting towards Pam for safety.

‘Neither am I,’ said Pam.

‘Well I am.’

After a few such messy spats, in the interests of preserving their sanity, their friendship and the business, and because Tara never backed down even when she was out-voted, Charley introduced the ‘rule of three’. They all three of them had to agree to put something on the final purchase list. Then the only issue was how many of each to buy, since with more than eight grand sitting in the business account, it would have been dangerously easy to get carried away. Everything seemed reasonably priced when they looked at the individual prices, but ordering them in packs of twenty and forty… or boxes of a hundred, the figures multiplied alarmingly.

By the time they’d got to the end of their shopping list on just the first supplier’s website, Charley was already having kittens at the cost of everything they’d put in their basket.

She held the cursor over the pay-now button, but couldn’t bring herself to commit to clicking on it.

‘Shall I do it?’

‘Yes,’ Pam said.

‘Yes!’ cried Tara.

‘Sure?’

‘YES!’ repeated Tara and Pam together.

‘Should I just check the returns policy first?’

‘No!’ said Tara. ‘We won’t be sending anything back! Sell, Sell, Sell – that’s our motto! For God’s sake, Charley, just hit PAY NOW.’

So Charley did and the website politely thanked them for their order.

There was a nanosecond of silence while it sank in.

‘Well, there’s no going back now,’ said Pam.

‘Yup, we’ve got to open the shop now,’ said Charley. ‘Either that, or we’ve got to get through one hell of a lot of bubble bath and chocolates.’

‘Bagsy the chocolates,’ said Tara.

Chapter Thirty-three

Deliveries soon started to pour into the shop, and Charley went down regularly to unpack everything and check the contents off against the order forms, and to sort through which products were for the shop and which were for the fundraiser. Pam went along to help her – allegedly.

‘It’s like Christmas!’ Pam cried, gleefully ripping open boxes like a five-year-old on a sugar high.

‘Slow down! I’ve got to check everything off,’ laughed Charley.

‘Sorry!’ Pam sang, but immediately she picked up the nearest box, and announced, ‘Fifty boxes of White Chocolate Prosecco truffles!’

Charley checked her lists. ‘Half for the shop, half for the fundraiser.’

‘Oooh, they look delicious.’ Pam efficiently divided the packs into two piles, then paused and, feigning seriousness said, ‘But I wonder if we should just check? I mean, purely in the interests of quality control…’

She meant it as a joke, but Charley realised it was actually valid point, since she didn’t want to sell anything that wasn’t excellent quality. Pam didn’t need any further encouragement to tear open a pack. Minutes later, still cheerfully ‘quality checking’ the chocolates, they ploughed on.

‘Thirty sparkly gold tealight holders.’

‘All for the fundraiser.’

‘Twenty bottles of Prosecco and Rose Bubble Bliss.’

‘Shop.’

Pam unscrewed the lid from one of the bubble bath bottles and sniffed. ‘Oh, that’s lovely!’

She shoved the bottle under Charley’s nose, who dutifully sniffed it. ‘Ooh, yes, lovely, but can we try and stay focused? Otherwise we’ll be here all day!’

‘Sorry!’ Pam pulled out the contents of the next box. ‘Six cushions which read “Smile, there’s always Prosecco”. Oh, I like these,’ she said plumping one up. Charley rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t give me that look!