Page 2 of Fast Track to Forever
York, UK
Kat
Snowflakes swirlin a gentle dance and cover the cobbled streets of York. I shiver and tuck my cardigan closer to my body. At least it’s warm inside the shop.
I pick up the large stack of vintage clothing that I labeled and priced and divide it up between the racks and shelves already laden with so much goodness. The moss green corduroy pinafore goes here, and the denim jacket needs to be at the front. The 90s are back, baby!
I work tirelessly for an hour then wipe my brow and take some snaps with my phone for the shop’s website and Instagram account. I schedule some posts in advance. Auntie Gem really needs to get the hang of this while I’m gone, more so if stock isn't moving before Christmas.
In one corner of the shop, towards the frosted window, I spot a bunch of hats.
“Kat, darling, what are you up to?” Auntie Gem’s voice rings out from the back office. Every hour, on the hour, like she’s got some sort of Kat alarm in there.
I maintain my voice at a steady level. “Just some chores. I need to do the hats, then I’m off.”
Auntie Gem peers from behind the heavy garnet coloured drape that separates the office from the rest of the shop, her eager smile always present. “If the snow keeps up, you might not be able to fly to New Zealand. You know that, don’t you?”
Her words bore a hole into my confidence. I laugh nervously and grab the stack of hats, so I can finish up. “I’m sure it will be fine, Gem. They can defrost planes.”
I inspect the hats, one by one, and handwrite description and price tags.
Gem puts a hand on my shoulder, her eyes verging on tears. She looks a lot like my mum, her sister, and my heart constricts.
Her voice trembles. “I wish you were not leaving. Who is going to help me with the shop, darling? You know that when I retire I want you to take it over. Make it your own, with your creations.”
I glance at the window filled with an array of eclectic and nostalgic items, from antique cameras to vintage clothing, beckoning passersby to come inside. The soft sound of the vintage record player spinning old tunes blends with the chatter of the two customers browsing the clearance rack. If this place were mine… Why does the idea not appeal to me anymore like it used to? Why do I feel chained to a destiny or another, not of my design or choosing?
Two hats left. A straw cowboy hat and an emerald green felt fedora. As different as night and day. Both can make or break outfits. I label and price them before I answer.
“I'm just going back for Christmas and New Year’s, Gem. I'm coming back mid January like we always said. Then it’s business as usual.”
And maybe by then I’ll have my life figured out. Know what I want to do with my Fashion & Textile degree.
Auntie Gem insists, like I knew she would. “You're saying that now, but I know that once you get there, my sister and your dad will say you just finished University and you need to come home and help them out with the flour mill and factory.”
I wave dismissively. The flour mill appeals just as much as being stuck in this vintage shop forever. “No way, Gem, there's nothing keeping me in New Zealand.”
Gem throws her arms in the air. “You might meet a handsome stranger on the way to Doha.”
I grab the stack of hats and place them around the shop. “Oh, I don't know about that. What does your sister, my mum, always say? Never trust a stranger.”
Gem nods, and I daydream of warmer weather in New Zealand.
Chapter 1
19th December
Queenstown, NZ
Will
Three planes to get home.Tom suggested a private jet, but I didn't listen. Sounds too garish, too luxurious. I'm better off saving that money and investing it. Make money for the future. Live frugally now, to enjoy later.
I asked my family not to wait for me at the airport lounge and it turns out I was right. One lone photographer must have been tipped off that I was coming and is circling like a shark. I stop by and tell him what they all want to hear. It's the same every time. I walk out the terminal into the New Zealand early summer sun and I take a deep breath.Home.
My brother Daryl waves from the car park, and I stride towards his car.
“Hello stranger,” he says and hugs me fiercely.
