Page 27 of The Gingerbread Cafe
Phoebe’s eyes flitted around the room as though keeping her mind in one place wasn’t always that easy. Then she moved behind the counter and pulled out a black and gold business card, the initials FW gleaming on the front like a set of wonky gold teeth. ‘Look, if I’m honest, Miss Whimple has been sniffing around here too. She offered me a fairly reasonable sum to buy the shop, and it’s just so tempting when the place is eerily quiet.’ She let out a tense puff of air. ‘I’ve only been here a couple of years, but it’s such a struggle. We only seem to get busy around Christmas. Even then, I’ve heard the village isn’t thriving like it used to be. And can you believe this – not many people even want their chakras healed? Although goodness knows, most of them need it.’
Amber clapped Gretel on the back. ‘G, it looks like your mission just got bigger.’
Gretel blinked. Mission? She wasn’t even sure she wanted a mission. Teaching a café full of strangers when she wasn’t even a mingler was a frightening enough thought. Had she even agreed to that bit? Was it too late to back out? ‘I don’t know anything about chakras!’ she blurted, her palms starting to feel sweaty.
‘Not chakras, you doughnut. Nobody knows what they are. No offence.’ Amber gave Phoebe a quick apologetic grimace. ‘Your mission to make this street good again to keep the golden Fuckwit out of town.’
‘Woah, I’m still working out how to bake gingerbread. Please give me a break.’ Gretel discreetly rubbed her hands down her corduroy pinafore dress. ‘I’ve just never been the sort of person …’ She knew she was rambling, but why was Phoebe giving her that spooky, eyes half closed stare she’d given Amber earlier on?
‘Come on,’ said Amber, pulling Gretel’s arm. ‘This just got interesting. We’ve got more market research to do and I want to know where else Francesca Whimple has been flaunting her flashy card. And if we want to round up more troops for your crafting sessions, we won’t do it by hanging around here healing our chakras. Anyway, I bet once we get people through that café door and hooked on gingerbread and hot chocolate, they’ll be flocking in all the time.’
‘Did I mention I still burn everything?’ Gretel mumbled as Amber dragged her towards the door.
Phoebe followed them, stopping off at her Tumbled Stones display and holding a hand over it as though waiting to be guided. Gretel couldn’t help being somehow enchanted by her.
‘Red jasper,’ Phoebe shouted above the commotion, fixing Gretel with a knowing look. ‘Keep it close to help heal your root chakra where those insecurities lie. Red is the colour of passion too.’ She winked. What was all that about? ‘And the third bonus? Warriors used to carry this stone for courage against the bad guys when they were heading into battle. Good luck!’
The stone looped through the air towards Gretel and she surprised herself that she actually managed to catch it. But passion? Battle? Gretel took a deep breath. These two had some crazy ideas.
‘We’ll keep you posted about the crafting.’ Amber gave Phoebe a salute. ‘Might even bring some flyers in, or something old school.’
‘Lapis lazuli,’ Phoebe reminded her. ‘Keep it close!’
‘Yeah, yeah. And Pheebs? What is that weird smell in here?’
Phoebe sighed, as though she didn’t have enough crystals in the shop to sort out some people’s throat chakras. She pointed to a little smoking pot on a shelf behind the counter. ‘I’m burning some resin. It’s frankincense.’
‘Woo, now that’s weird, isn’t it? Because if Amber is like gold, and you’re all about frankincense … then I know exactly where we need to go to find our third wise woman. Let’s complete our market research hat trick.’
Gretel had no idea what Amber was twittering on about, but she guessed she was about to find out.
Chapter 24
‘Mystic Myrrh Flowers.’ Amber pointed down Green Tree Lane at the next shop on her hitlist. ‘If we’ve covered gold and frankincense’ – she waved at herself and then back to Phoebe’s fragrant chakra shop – ‘it’s surely a sign.’
Gretel shrugged. ‘I’ve never been inside. Anyway, I’m sure we’ve done enough market research for one day.’
‘Are you running scared again? If I’d let you, you’d go and hide away in your little festive grotto.’
‘Not at all! It’s just …’
‘Yeah, yeah. You’rerubbish with people. You’d rather hang around with your ferret and make no bother. Did you just witness how bad I am with people?’ She gestured to Phoebe’s shop again. ‘And yet I just let my inner weird hang out and it went OK. Well, she gave me a funny blue stone and didn’t want to charge me. No wonder business is crap for her, by the way. I’m no guru, but I’d guess that’s not how to keep a shop alive.’
At least her honesty was refreshing. Although even if there was no particular magic to being a people person, it had always been so much easier not to be.
‘I’m pretty sure myinner weirdis off the scale compared to yours,’ said Gretel.
‘Nuh-uh. I don’t have all the answers, but I still reckon we just have to find our people.’ Amber pulled Gretel towards the flower shop.
Her peoplehad a tendency to shuffle off and die on her – that was the problem. How she missed darling Nell. At least going through this excruciating embarrassment might help keep the café alive, and if she could just channel some of that wonderful way her mum and Nell had had with people …
‘If you think you’re odd, you’ll be right at home here. I’ve heard this woman specialises in funeral flowers. And guess what? The gossip says dead people talk to her and tell her what foliage they want for their big send-off. Kooky, huh?’
It sounded tempting and terrifying all at once. ‘No, I think I’ll just …’
But Amber had linked her arm firmly through hers like two besties in a playground, and Gretel was almost intoxicated by the friendly closeness.
They reached the outside of Mystic Myrrh Flowers, which was distinctly lacking in flowers and strangely uninviting. The flaking paintwork and signage were black and dark purple and reminded Gretel of one of those funeral director places where you went to say goodbye to loved ones lying ghostly pale in cold, dark rooms. She shivered and pulled away, a wave of sadness rushing upwards in her throat.
