Free Never Can Say Goodbye by Christina Jones

the side? Was that why he had to leave Oxford so quickly? Was that the cause of his troubles?
    Oh, well – again, it was none of her concern, was it?
    As Dexter blew her a kiss and started to drive away through the horizontal rain with the car’s engine purring luxuriously
     and the windscreen wipers working overtime, Brian waved happily. Maisie didn’t.
    Frankie closed the door.
    ‘Here!’ A sharp jab in her ribs made her jump. ‘What was all that about?’
    Frankie glared down at Biddy-the-funeral-goer. ‘Sorry? And that hurt.’
    ‘All that malarkey with Maisie just now.’ Biddy’s pointy nose quivered. ‘She told you this place was haunted, didn’t she?’
    Frankie nodded, rubbing her ribs. ‘Yes, as you obviously well know, and I don’t want to talk about it because it’s all nonsense.’
    ‘That –’ Biddy fastened the duck-egg blue ensemble more tightly round her ‘– is where you’re wrong. If Maisie says there are
     ghosts in here then there are.’
    ‘And I’m telling you that there aren’t. Now, did you find anything you liked?’
    Biddy gave a mighty sniff. ‘Actually, I did. There was a lovely little two-piece in oatmeal – Cherish says oatmeal is perfect
     on me, like a dewy sunrise on a spring morning – that would havedone me a treat. But that … that –’ she jerked her ginger head towards Lilly ‘– little madam told me I’d have to pay twenty
     pounds for it. Twenty pounds! Daylight robbery! I told her I could get it cheaper in Marks and Sparks!’
    ‘Oh dear.’
    ‘Ah, mind you –’ Biddy flourished a second-hand Big Sava bag under Frankie’s nose ‘– I went into my bartering – good at bartering
     I am, ever since our seniors group had that day trip to Boulogne – and got it for a tenner!’
    ‘Goodness.’ Frankie peered into the bag and tried not to chuckle. The extremely ugly oatmeal suit had been languishing unloved
     and unhired in Rita’s shop for at least two years. ‘That’ll teach her then, won’t it?’
    ‘Yes, it will.’ Biddy straightened her shoulders and preened. ‘And you, too. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. But you
     mind what I say – Maisie isn’t as daft as she looks. If she’s raised the dead in this place then you’ll be out of business
     before you know it.’
    Waiting until the door closed behind Biddy, Frankie pulled a face, and then returned to the seemingly never-ending job of
     sorting out years and years of unwanted clothes.
    By ten thirty the sorting out was almost done. Everyone had gone. The shop floor was cleared, the majority of unwanted articles
     from Rita’s reign had all found new homes, the dresses that still needed checking for flaws were piled beside the changing
     cubicles, and the frocks that needed to be delivered to the dry-cleaner’s were stacked beside the counter.
    Lilly, disappointed that Dexter had taken Maisie home
and
gone to Winterbrook and therefore wouldn’t be available for a quick drink in the Toad, had left with Sukie, Phoebe, Clemmieand Amber for the delights of the Weasel and Bucket in Fiddlesticks instead.
    Frankie leaned against the counter and ran her hands through her hair. She was so tired. And so grubby. The years of accumulated
     second-hand clothes had harboured more dust than she’d imagined possible. Oh, for the bliss of a long, hot soak …
    The door opened, allowing the wind and rain to roar inside, with its usual accompaniment of whirling, dancing dead leaves.
    ‘That’s some storm.’ Dexter shook raindrops from his hair and looked around. ‘And you’ve worked miracles in here.’
    Frankie nodded. ‘Everyone was brilliant – we’ve done far more tonight than I thought possible – and I’m so grateful to them.
     All that’s left to do before I open next week is to clean the whole place from top to bottom, decorate it, replace the clothes
     rails, sort the dresses into decades and sizes and colours, then fill the rails with frocks and make sure they’re all