Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

Procrastinating desperately, she took time to cross the road. But at last, in spite of all her efforts, she found herself outside the shop. The windows were screened off from the rest of the shop and while what was displayed was extremely attractive, it meant that Jo could only see the choice pieces on display.

On one side a blue-painted dresser held a collection of creamware. Jo looked for a while and decided that her favourite was like a little openwork basket, only made of china. Someone had filled it with redcurrants and the splash of scarlet, in among the white dishes and jugs with the blue background, looked like a work of art.

In the other window was a complete contrast. Here quantities of old painted sweet tins, tea caddies and biscuit tins, a glorious range of rich colours and intricate patterns, filled a table. Behind these was an old storage jar filled with cow-parsley. Jo gave a little sigh of ecstasy. It was definitely her sort of shop. Some of her anxiety faded. She opened the door and went in.

It took her a moment or two to recognise the elegantly suited woman who was coming towards her with out stretched hands. Miranda looked so different from the woman who drank large quantities of wine and Pimm's and wore linen slacks and faded shirts.

Different or not, she hugged Jo warmly. 'Jo! Why didn't you say you were coming? We could have gone out for lunch. As it is I'm stuck here.’

Jo returned the hug with equal warmth, taking strength and comfort from Miranda's firm embrace. 'I came on the off chance you'd be here. Things are quite busy on the barge and I wasn't sure when I could get away.'

‘Well, it's lovely you're here. So, The Three Sisters is going to Holland?'

‘How on earth do you know that?'

‘Word gets around. Come and have some coffee or something and tell me all.' She noticed the bag Jo was carrying. 'Is that what I think it is?’

Jo nodded. 'I'm really not sure if I've done a good enough job, Miranda. Your shop is so full of lovely things.' She put the bag down by the desk where Miranda had been sitting. 'Can we have the coffee before I show you?'

‘I'll put the kettle on. Have a look round!’

Jo looked, exclaiming, either to herself or out loud, at the plethora of items which ranged from the dainty, the quirky, the sweetly pretty to the kitsch, with all styles in between.

Unsurprisingly to Jo there was a section of model boats of all kinds. There was a paddle steamer, its hull brightly painted in black and red, various yachts, obviously designed to be sailed on village ponds, and a scale model of the Queen Mary. The star of the selection, to Jo's eyes, was a diorama in a glass case depicting some ancient drama involving a two-masted ship, a paddle-steamer and two little dinghies. Quite why all those vessels were in the same place at the same time was not explained.

Around the boats were various related items: carved whales' teeth, a ship in a bottle, a selection of telescopes, sextants, shackles and other mystifying bits of tackle.

Everywhere Jo looked were lovely things. In the corner was a rocking horse, dapple grey with a flowing mane and a real, tiny saddle.

‘I love this shop,' said Jo. 'It's heaven encapsulated in prime real estate.’

Miranda laughed as she edged the tray on to the desk, pushing aside a pile of papers as she did so. 'I'm so glad you like it. I have to confess to being quite fond of it myself. Have a seat.’

Jo pulled out a little chair she faintly recognised as being Art Nouveau.

‘I'm hoping I'll find a couple more of those chairs, to make up a set,' said Miranda, pouring coffee, 'but until I do, it might as well be useful.'

‘What was it William Morris said? "Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful"?'

‘I think that's right. Have a biscuit.'

‘This is so civilised. I've spent too much time worrying about fuel tanks and navigation lights recently.' Jo bit into her shortbread with a hedonistic sigh.

‘You shouldn't be worrying about things like that, surely? I thought Marcus was in charge.'

‘Well yes, he is, and he's obviously very efficient, but it all goes on at my house, so to speak. Although The Three Sisters is not my house, really.’

Miranda sipped her coffee and regarded her friend. 'You went back home?’

Jo nodded. 'How did you guess?'

‘Not hard. How did it go?’

It was lovely to have a woman of her own age to talk to, thought Jo. Dora was a dear and Marcus was a con temporary, but, however hard they tried, they couldn't really relate to Jo's fears and disappointments. Miranda listened attentively, taking occasional bites out of her biscuit. Then she let loose a short, fluent statement full of foul language that Jo found immensely satisfying.

‘Oh Miranda, I love you!' said Jo.

‘Likewise. Now, enough of that,' she said briskly, sensing it was time to change the subject. 'What have you got in that carrier bag?'

‘I may have to take back my last statement about loving you. These little items represent hours of painstaking work, practice, research, and goodness knows what else.'

‘You missed out "blood, sweat and tears".’

‘They're a given.'

‘So, let me look.’

Jo reached into her carrier and took out the first tissue-wrapped parcel and handed it to Miranda. She unwrapped it carefully and took out the little mirror.

‘Oh my God! I can't believe it,' she said. 'You've worked a miracle.’

Relief made Jo laugh. 'It was no miracle, it was all those other things, including the blood and tears.'

‘But it's exquisite! My goodness, you've gilded it properly, with real gold leaf! I can't believe it!' Miranda said again, lowering the mirror. 'You are ambitious.'

‘Foolish, more like. I fell in love with the technique when I was in the shop, buying supplies. I knew I had to try it. It sounded so much like alchemy.'

‘You've done an amazing job, Jo. I'm so impressed. I'm going to send everything that needs repairing to you from now on.’

Jo felt some of her confidence return. 'Do, although I'll need more space if I'm going to do it for a living.'

‘There're a couple of rooms upstairs. They're full of junk now, but we could easily turn one into a little workroom for you.' Miranda paused. 'There's a little bathroom too. If you ever need a place to go, there's one here.’

Jo patted her friend's hand, unable to speak for a moment. 'That's really kind,' she said huskily. 'I might well take you up on that.’

Jo got back after her visit to Miranda feeling satisfied and calm. She did have saleable skills, she had taught herself a new and difficult technique so she still had a brain and hand-eye coordination, and, if all else failed, she had a place to live.

All this made her feel a lot less vulnerable and dependent on Philip's generosity. While Marcus may well be right in saying that half the value of the house was hers by right, it could take a long time to organise. And much as she found it hard to think of Philip living there with the Floosie, the thought of her old house being sold to strangers made her very sad.

Dora arrived home late, but relieved that Fred had taken her impending holiday so well.

‘He was very understanding about me not knowing how long the trip would take.'

‘I suppose, being a boatyard, he must know about waiting for weather windows, cleaning out fuel tanks and all that stuff.'

‘Of course he does.' Dora paused. 'He also thought I should go home for a visit before we went. He said I should take Tom with me.'

‘Oh yes, that's a good idea. They won't be able to do anything or say anything that will bring shame on the family if a stranger's there,' she said.