I Owe You One(27)

“Your mum could retire. Put her feet up. Buy a little place in Spain near me,” says Aunty Karen.

“But this is so weird. How come you’ve had an offer now?” I stare at Mum, suddenly stricken. “Oh God, this isn’t some kind of ambulance chaser, is it?”

“No!” Mum laughs. “Love, the truth is, we’ve had offers to sell all the time over the years. Never wanted to, before. But after everything that’s happened …”

I look at the piece of paper again, my brain doing new sums. Yes, it’s a lot of money, but if that means the end of Farrs, of our incomes, of our jobs … then it doesn’t seem that much, after all.

“Do you want to sell?” I ask Mum. I’m trying my hardest to sound neutral. Pragmatic. Supportive. All those grown-up things. But even so, I can feel my eyes glistening as the idea really hits me.

Sell? Our beloved Farrs? Dad’s beloved Farrs?

I look up, and as she sees my expression, Mum’s guard drops.

“Oh, Fixie,” she says, and reaches a hand across the table to squeeze mine. “Of course I don’t want to. But I don’t want to burden you children either. If I’m going to step back, what then? Running Farrs is hard. It’s full-time. It’s got to be what you want to do. Not just for me. Or for Dad.”

She’s blinking too now, and her cheeks are rosy. I think Mum and I are the only ones in the family who feel Dad’s presence every time we step into that shop. Jake only sees money. And Nicole sees … I have no idea what Nicole sees. Unicorns, probably.

“I want to do it,” I say without hesitation. “I don’t want to give up. Mum, go to Spain and don’t worry. We’ll run the business. Won’t we?” I look at Jake and Nicole, trying to get their support.

“I agree,” says Jake, to my surprise. “I think Farrs has great potential.” He jabs the piece of paper. “I mean, this is all very well, but we could double that figure. Treble it.”

“What about you, Nicole?” says Mum, turning to her, and Nicole shrugs.

“If you wanted to sell, I’d be, like … fair enough,” she says in her drifty, absent way. “But if you don’t want to, then, like …”

We all wait for her to finish her sentence—then realize she has finished her sentence.

“Well,” says Mum, and her cheeks are even rosier. “I have to say, I’m relieved. I don’t want to sell Farrs. It’s a good outfit, though I say so myself.”

“This is a bird in the hand, though,” says Aunty Karen, picking up the paper and brandishing it. “This is solid cash. Security. If you don’t sell now, you might regret it.”

“If Mum does sell now, she might regret it,” counters Jake. “You know what I think?” He looks around the table, his face animated. “This is an opportunity to take our small family business to the next level. Turbocharge it. We’ve got the name, the premises, the online presence … I mean, the sky’s the limit. But we need to think big.” He pounds a fist into his palm. “Rebrand. Focus. Maybe we need to hire a consultant. I know some guys; I could bring them in, hear what they have to say. Shall I set that up?”

I gape at him. How have we got onto hiring a consultant? How much would that cost? And what does that mean anyway, “turbocharge”?

“Don’t worry about that, Jake,” says Mum in that quiet, firm way of hers. “Just keep the place from falling down while I’m away, and we can think about all your ideas when I get back. Now, let me run through a few stock issues.”

She starts to talk about suppliers, but I can’t concentrate. I’m suddenly feeling anxious. It’s as though the situation is hitting me properly for the first time. Mum will be away. I’ll be running the shop with Nicole and Jake. How’s that going to work out?

I half-listen as Mum hands round a list of reminders which she’s handwritten and photocopied. But I’m mostly worrying about Jake. What if he makes some stupid decision and I can’t stop him? I can see Mum glancing at me as though reading my thoughts—and I hastily smile back. My top priority is not worrying her.

At last we finish, and as we get up from the table, Mum draws me aside. The others have already headed into the kitchen, so we’re alone.

“Fixie,” she says gently. “Love. I know you’re worried about …” She hesitates. “Well. Let’s say it. Jake.”

Her words feel like they’re prodding something hidden and sore.

“You know,” I say, looking away, not wanting to admit the truth. “He’s just a bit …”

“I know. He gets his exciting ideas into his head, and he can’t be put off. I do understand.” Mum squeezes my arm reassuringly. “But I’m not going to leave you in the lurch. I’ve got a solution for while I’m away which I think will help.”

“Oh!” I say in huge relief. “Wow. What is it?”

I should have known Mum would have a plan up her sleeve. Maybe we’ll have daily Skype calls with her in Spain. Or maybe she’s hired some new brilliant member of staff. Or a new computer system that Jake can’t get round.

“Uncle Ned,” says Mum with a beam.

My stomach drops like a stone. Uncle Ned? Uncle Ned is the solution?