Kellie Hailes - The Little Unicorn Gift Shop - A heartwarming romance with a bit of sparkle in 2018!

‘Okay. Great. Well, have a good day, Milly.’ Ben waved her off and shut the door to a mixture of wolf whistles and kissy sounds.

‘Ben’s got a giiiiirlfriiiiiiend,’ Sophie and Joe sang in unison.

Ben touched his arm where Milly’s hand had been. Breathed in the potent perfume that still hung in the air. He looked over to Poppy to gauge her opinion. Her back was turned, hunched over, as she tore into another box, sending the polystyrene pieces within flying.

He tried to ignore the gnawing in his stomach that told him his life was about to get complicated. Complicated? Try downright problematic. With the opening of his business, the juggling of staff, and the rift between him and his father that if their lack of communication was anything to go by showed no signs of abating, the last thing he needed was Poppy vs Milly, round two.

Ben closed his eyes. Opened them again. Blinked hard. The bowl of creamy vanilla icing he had tucked under his arm threatened to tip over and spill its contents on their freshly cleaned floor.

Poppy mashed her lips together; she knew what was coming but couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t? More like didn’t want to. His face began to turn a violent shade of purple. Eruption coming in three… two… one…

‘You can’t seriously be wearing that on our first day of business. It’s completely ridiculous. Totally over the top. What will people think?’ Ben shoved the icing-covered spoon he was holding in the bowl and placed it on the counter.

Joe glanced down at his outfit. A snow-white fluffy onesie with a pink oval ‘belly’ front and centre. ‘What? You don’t like my uniform?’ He spun round, sending the golden tail attached to the onesie’s rear flying.

‘Uniform?’ Ben shook his head so hard Poppy half-worried that his brain would come flying out of his ears. ‘It’s not a uniform. That looks like the kind of pyjamas a three-year-old would wear.’

Poppy moved to stand beside Joe and pointed downwards. ‘Not true. Kids onesies tend to have feet as part of the pyjamas. Joe’s feet are bare.’

‘His feet are not bare. I can see with my own two eyes that he has unicorn scuffs on his feet. The slipper variety. He’s not ready to go to work. He’s ready to go to bed.’

‘You don’t like his slippers? But they’re so pretty.’

Joe raised his leg and angled his foot back and forth, displaying the purple fluffy scuffs threaded through with silver, a horn made from shiny golden material protruded from the centre of each slipper. ‘I’m with Poppy, they’re pretty. Pretty awesome.’

Ben’s nostrils flared as he huffed. ‘It’s not about whether I like them or not…’

‘You don’t. I can see it from the fuchsia colour of your face.’ Poppy grabbed hold of Joe’s tail and twirled the tail, burlesque style. ‘I’d go as far as to say they’re making you angry.’

‘They don’t make me angry. They’re slippers. It takes more than fairy tale footwear to irritate me. No, it’s just that I don’t think that uniform is appropriate for a business such as this. People will be coming to our shop expecting a certain sense of decorum… and, well…’ Ben’s lips mashed together. ‘More important than what others think… what if Joe gets too hot and passes out?’

Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and shifted from foot to foot, setting off a disco of lights embedded in her sunshine-yellow sneakers. ‘Nice tactic, making it all about Joe’s health and wellbeing rather than what others might think, but the thing is, Ben, I don’t think Joe could get hot enough to pass out, not when you insist on setting the temperature in here to freezing.’

‘It really is freezing.’ Joe mock-shivered. ‘So, actually, I’m almost cosy.’

‘And you know, Joe, I’m impressed with your commitment to the job. It’s inspiring. In fact, it’s got me tempted to wear this…’ Poppy strode over to a rack of clothing and pulled out a spaghetti-strapped silk nightgown covered in prancing miniature unicorns. ‘Although, if I were to wear this then Ben would have to pop the heating up.’

Ben’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ of horror. ‘You wouldn’t wear that? It would be—’

‘Too fun? Too casual?’ Poppy pulled the nightgown off the rack, held it up to her body and shimmied like Milly had the day before. ‘Likely to give one of your staid old customers a heart attack?’

‘Yes, exactly that. I can’t have people keeling over, it would give us bad press. Anyway, the temperature’s kept low so my customers can appreciate their tea. They’ll wrap their hands around the cups. Feel the heat infuse their bodies, their souls…’

‘Who knew Mr Business had a poetic heart?’ Poppy placed the nightgown back on the rack. ‘It’s lovely to know that you care about creating an experience for a bunch of strangers.’

‘Not strangers. Customers . Also, if it gets too warm in here the tea can go rancid. And I can’t afford to be throwing money down the drain.’ Ben checked his watch. ‘Look, the shop’s due to open in twenty minutes, and Sophie and I still have to get the tea-of-the-day steeping on the warmer, and the baking plated up and on the counter. Joe, wear what you want. Poppy, don’t you dare wear that tiny scrap of material you call a nightie. You’ll freeze to death.’

Poppy’s chest began to ache from holding the laughter in. She glanced at Joe, whose face had gone vermillion. One cheek was puffed out, like his tongue was literally pushed into it.

An irritated cluck from Ben sent her over the edge. The giggles she’d kept tamped down erupted, followed by guffaws from Ben’s direction.

‘Oh, Ben, we’re just teasing. Pulling your leg.’ Poppy bounded over and kissed his cheek. ‘I promise I won’t wear the nightgown. It’s not really my style anyway. And Joe’s onesie will only be coming out on Mondays – we’re doing unicorn story time for toddlers. We came up with it last night and posted it on our social media page. Thought it would be a good way for local mums to enjoy your tea and treats while we entertained their little ones.’

Ben’s chest deflated, his lips pursing. ‘Excellent idea, Poppy, Joe. But do you promise that this look will be for Mondays only?’

‘We promise.’ Poppy made a cross over her heart. ‘Although I’m totally getting one to wear at home.’

‘You’re incorrigible.’ Ben backed away towards the kitchen door. ‘Always have been.’

‘Yeah well, you’ll come to love this onesie. Heck, I bet you’ll end up buying one.’ Poppy smiled as Ben gave another vigorous head shake. ‘Now go finish up that icing and get that tea of yours brewing. It’s time to make our fortune.’

***

Poppy slumped onto the small wooden desk that occupied a corner of the tiny storeroom and rested her head on her arm. She rarely dealt with self-doubt – refused to as a means of self-preservation – but the numbers on the calculator, the money on the table, and the receipts from the sales were giving her a headache, and making her question how wise she’d been to think running a gift shop would be easy.

Sure, it had seemed simple enough on paper. She’d saved the money up so she’d be going in debt-free. Bought the stock. Made everything look as appealing as possible. She’d posted on Muswell Hill’s social media pages that Sparkle & Steep was opening, and within a day it had been shared. And shared. And shared some more. Gone viral, according to Joe. And the people had come.

Boy, had they come. In droves. People whisked in on their way to work or during their lunch break. Mothers with babies wrapped to their chests, and toddlers in hand, popped in, excited to see the latest arrival. Retirees poked their heads in, curious to see what had lain behind the store frontage that had been papered-over for the last two weeks.