It all started quite unexpectedly, shortly after they were married on a hot summer’s day in the little village church. It was no secret she had married him for his pension, and of course for the shop he had recently inherited from his father. She was very straightforward about things like that and he didn’t seem to mind a bit. The thing is, she had the ideas.
When they returned from the ceremony, excited to claim the shop as theirs at last, she kicked off her high heel shoes and put on a pair of sneakers from her traveling bag. She said she was dying for a cup of tea. ‘Would you make me one, darling?’
‘It’s a bit tricky,’ said Joe. ‘My father never got used to making tea for one… he didn’t bother fixing the kettle again… after my mother passed away.’
‘Oh well, never mind! We can drink the champagne instead!’ she replied, picking up the bottle off the shelf that housed the books on vintage cars.
She was about to pop the cork when he stopped her. ‘Hold on. I’ll see if I can find some glasses.’
He made his way past an Austin Healy his father had been working on, towards a pile of trunks at the back of the workshop. The ‘Union Castle Liner’ stickers that splashed across them were well worn and reminded him of the long forgotten trips to England and all the car boot sales and fairs he’d gone to with his mother.
‘I haven’t seen those yet! What’s in them, Joe?’ Her voice hooked his stomach and he was back at school, facing Mrs Norris, his pockets bulging with the day’s takings of marbles.
‘Nothing much… Mostly china… It’s just old junk, really,’ said Joe.
She helped him remove the top case and together they placed it on the floor. She then nudged him aside and bent down on the cold concrete floor, to open the latches. ‘Mhhhhmmmmmm,’ she said, ‘yes, there is some old china in here, very good old china, in fact.’ And then she examined one piece after another, turning each item carefully over so as to check the individual stamps and markings on the back. Her eyes began to sparkle in the dim light of the shop.
‘Do you see any glasses?’ urged Joe.
‘Oh Darling! Can’t you see I’m busy right now?’
He stood there for a long while, his hands deep in his pockets, ‘What about the champagne?’ he asked.
‘Never mind, never mind! I need you to do something else for me, would you bring the sign in from the front of the shop? And I’d love some brushes and paints. Bring whatever you can find.”
She ripped off the turquoise scarf she’d worn to the ceremony and started dusting the china with it.
Joe scuttled in with his arms full. ‘Have you got the sign?’ she asked from behind several piles of china plates stacked up high upon the teak desk.
‘I am getting there!’ he replied. ‘What are you going to do with it? My father was always very proud of that sign, you know!’
‘That’s too bad, Joe. Life has got to move on. And besides, I have a marvelous idea! Do pass me the paint, dear!’
Joe stood by as “Village Service Centre” was drowned in red and “Martha’s Fabulous China Shoppe” was painted, in British Racing Green, instead.
‘There!’ she said as she placed the bright new sign against the wall and stepped back to look at it. ‘Now we can celebrate, darling! It’s time to drink some of that bubbly!’
‘Straight out of the bottle?’
‘Straight out of the bottle, you old fool!’