Daphne is going through the motions of the conversation – stalling, really – as her body catches up with her brain. She knows, logically, what closing the shop means, but it takes her heart a few minutes more to understand that the closure will, most likely, mean she will never spend time in that shop again. After so many years. So many people and clothes. So much change.
The frock shop has been her constant from the start, and especially now. It’s been a place for her to forget what’s happeningat home and simply be present for others. For Christina, for Lucy, for the customers. Without walking that familiar path from home to the junction, will she even know how to be herself? It’s not a prospect a woman her age should have to consider.
‘So when …’ Daphne takes a breath. ‘When will we close?’
‘He’s going to find a new tenant first. Which may take a while.Idon’t think it’s going to be as easy as he thinks. But we shall see.’
If Ian were a more sympathetic person Daphne would wait for him to ask how she is. But he isn’t. So she doesn’t. Instead she pushes down the sadness that is welling.
‘We should carry on as normal, then?’ she asks.
‘For now, yes.’ He’s quiet for a few seconds. ‘I’m sorry, Daphne. I know how much effort you put into the place.’
It’s an atypical acknowledgement from him and she is glad of it.
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I will miss it.’
‘It’s our best-performing shop,’ he says. ‘It will be a shame to lose it. You’ve done a marvellous job. Of course, we have the shop in Crows Nest –’
‘No,’ Daphne says.
He probably expects her to say she’s so devoted to the charity she’ll go anywhere, but it’s not the case – and she doesn’t want to explain to him that it’s the location that means the most to her. That the location has inspired her to be creative with the shop displays and the curation of the clothes.
‘Oh.’ He sounds taken aback – probably because she hasn’t stood up for herself before.
‘I think it’s time I retire,’ she says, feeling not at all like retiring but knowing it’s an acceptable thing to say.
‘As you wish,’ he murmurs.
‘Well,’ she says, but goes no further. It’s his cue to end the call and she hopes he takes it.
‘I should go.’
‘Keep me posted, please.’
‘I will.’
She says goodbye and hangs up, just as Janet reappears, her eyebrows raised in enquiry.
‘The shop’s closing,’ Daphne says, her hand still on the wall. If she lifts it off she may fall down.
‘What?’ Janet rushes over and gives her a hug. ‘Mum, I’m so sorry.’
Daphne lets go of the wall and hugs her back. They’re not usually given to hugging but she can’t imagine why not. It is such a comfort to be embraced by someone who loves you and whom you love.
Once they draw apart, Janet smiles sympathetically. ‘I hate this for you.’
‘So do I.’
‘It’s so much change.’
Daphne nods. ‘As the saying goes: change is the only constant.’
Janet laughs drily. ‘I hate that saying.’
‘I think I do too.’
Janet hugs her again. ‘We’ll get through it, Mum.’