Free Meet Me at the Cupcake Café by Jenny Colgan Page B

Court?’
    The man peered up at her with a wary look in his eyes.
    ‘Trying to,’ he said gruffly. ‘Bit of a bloody nightmare.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said, suddenly remembering where he was and switching into salesman mode. ‘It’s a fabulous property, so much character and loads of potential.’
    ‘Hasn’t every business that’s gone in there failed miserably?’
    ‘Well, that’s because … that’s because they’re not approaching it the right way.’
    I will make friends with him then ask him for a job, Issy told herself. I will ask him for a job … shortly. Soon. In a bit. Yes.
    But what actually came out of Issy’s mouth was, ‘I couldn’t take a look at it, could I?’

    Des, of Joe Golden Estates, was sick of his job. He was sick of his life, if he was being honest. He was tired of the market, tired of being on his own in an empty office, tired of endless to-ing and fro-ing with this stupid Pear Tree Court property as one person after another thought they could make a go of it, when, pretty as it was, it remained a commercial property that didn’t actually face a road. People got dreams in their heads that were nothing to do with business. This looked like another one.
    Then he had to go home and sympathize with his wife. It wasn’t that he didn’t adore their baby, it wasn’t that at all, it was just he did need a night’s sleep now and again and he was sure that everyone else’s baby wasn’t still waking up four times a night at five months. Maybe Jamie was sensitive. It still didn’t explain why Ems hadn’t got out of her pyjamas since the birth. It had been a while now. But if he ever mentioned anything, she started screaming at him that he didn’t understand what it was like to have a baby, then Jamie would start screaming, plus her mother was usually over, sitting in his spot on the sofa, slagging him off, he suspected. Then it would all get so noisy he’d wish himself back at work again for five minutes’ peace and quiet. He hadn’t the faintest idea what to do.
    For the first time in what felt like weeks, Issy sensed a tiny flame of curiosity spark inside her. As Des somewhat reluctantly opened up the heavy door with three different keys, she glanced around, just in case the scary blonde lady was behind her somewhere, and would scream at her to get the hell out of her shop.
    Because she could see at once that while there were all sorts of problems with it (no road frontage being only the most glaringly obvious), 4 Pear Tree Court had a lot of plus points too.
    The large glass window faced west, which would let plenty of sunlight into the shop in the afternoon, making it a nice place to come and sit and linger over coffee and a cake when business typically was quieter. Issy tried not to let her imagination run away with itself. Although the alley had rubbish and a stray bicycle skeleton in it, it also had cobbles and, although it was as unhealthy, stunted and metropolitan a specimen as one could hope to find anywhere, there was a real live tree next to the ironmonger’s. A real live tree. That was something too. Once you were inside the court, the noise from the traffic seemed to fade away; it was as if you were stepping back to a quieter, gentler time. The little row of shops was higgledy-piggledy and jammed together and looked a little like something out of Hogwarts, and number 4, with its low wooden doorway, odd angles and ancient fireplace, was the sweetest of them all.
    The frontage had been left dusty and uncared for, with pieces of old shelving strewn everywhere, along with mail for previous owners from yoga retreats, fair trade children’s clothing manufacturers, homeopathic societies and the local council. Issy waded through them.
    ‘Oh yes, I should probably have moved those,’ murmured Des, looking slightly embarrassed. You should have, thought Issy. If one of KD’s agents showed a property like that … Mind you, he did seem very tired.
    ‘Things