The old coffee shop stood empty and battered in the corner of the street, a shell of its former glorious self with nothing more than the ghostly memories of its prime. Half of the windows were smashed through and boarded up, whilst the other half had been used for crude graffiti and as the base for a mosaic of bubblegum. The grand wooden door was chipping at the edges and rusting off of its hinges having not been opened for quite some time. Inside, the tables and chairs were thrown across the dirty, scratched floor, dust had settled on every single surface you could think of, the light-bulbs were either burnt out or smashed. It was a small shop that had been abandoned by its previous owners after it failed to make enough money to keep the business afloat – the owners took what was in the till and fled (but not before smashing up the shop that had made their lives hell for a number of years.) No one knew the state of the flat upstairs but everyone who walked by assumed that it was just as terrible.
Next door was a florist, who, despite not having made a profit for a number of years either, refused to shut up shop. William Lamb-Melbourne had owned the shop for almost a life time and he felt like he had amalgamated into the furniture – if he left now then a part of himself would be missing. He would rather you chopped off one of his arms or legs than make him give up the shop that had provided him with so much comfort over the years. In his youth he began to grow his own flowers, plants and vegetables and decided, as he got older, he ought to sell his wares so others could appreciate their scents, their shapes, their meanings. He didn't want his hard work to be only for himself and for it all to die and wither without appreciation. Melbourne's wife had appreciated the vase of fresh flowers he put up in their home every week, the home-grown vegetables for dinner, the bright green shade of their garden. Their son had loved it too. Melbourne knew the activity of the street like he knew the back of his hand. He knew that Mrs Johnson walked past every day at 9:15am and 4:15pm on her way to and from work. He knew the postman did his rounds at 8:45am, that Mr Horrick bought a small bunch of multi-coloured carnations every second Monday and that the coffee shop next door had been left untouched for five years. Melbourne, knowing and observing all for a number of years found the day that a brightly polished, sleek silver car pulling up outside the coffee shop, suspicious. He watched it from over his mug of instant black coffee, eyes fixed to it like a bird stalking its prey. An older woman, who Melbourne thought must have have been around his age, stepped out of the car. She was neatly dressed without so much as a crease in clothes, her perfectly curled hair fell gracefully around her shoulders, but she had an air of worry and disapproval etched on to her face as she disappeared out of sight, stepping towards the abandoned shop. A younger, shorter woman followed her, grinning in her dungarees and her hair carelessly tied back into a bun, a world away from the older woman – she soon disappeared out of sight too, bounding over to the shop door on the balls of her feet.
"Are you sure about this, 'Drina? This doesn't seem like something appropriate for you," the older woman asked, peering into a window that had something rather phallic painted on it. Melbourne could hear her gentle German accent from his open shop door and windows.
"Absolutely sure, Mama. I couldn't think of anything more exciting to do!" the younger woman was grinning and clutching a key in her small hand. "I'm so excited to start that I wish we could have come yesterday."
An British accent, Melbourne noted.
The woman's mother was still unsure and hummed unhappily at her daughter and the shop she now owned. "You are related to royalty, 'Drina, you don't need to be working in a travesty like this."
"Distantly related," the young woman pointed out, "I want to own and work in this place, regardless of need. Anyway, Mama, how many times have I told you that I want to be called Victoria now?" she asked, putting the key into the lock and turning it. She pushed against it but the door wouldn't budge. Victoria pushed again and when it still didn't move, she huffed and stamped her foot in frustration. "Why won't the bloody thing open?!"
Victoria's mother folded her arms across her chest. "Because it is old. You're a silly girl, 'Drina, wasting your money on a place like this when you can be sitting at home in comfort – not in this dump! It'll take months to make this place look any good!"
However her words fell on her daughter's deaf ears as Victoria took a running start at the door, pushing it open with her shoulder and crashing through onto the shop floor as the door gave way with ease this time, hitting her head against a table. The door swung for a second before following Victoria to the ground as the force finally made it come off its rotten hinges. Victoria's mother screamed and tried to clamber inside to help lift the door but she was blocked by tables and she found the door too heavy. Melbourne, judging the noises to be highly unusual, rushed out from his own shop, his coat tails flying behind him. Victoria was completely hidden by the door, except for her feet which could be seen through a glass pane. Melbourne jumped inside the cafe and kicked the tables and chairs out of the way, lifted the door off of the young girl until her mother could slide her out and stand her up. He dropped the door and helped Victoria's mother sit her on a chair for a moment. Victoria's forehead had a cut where blood was leaking out and sticking in her thick, plush eyebrow. She had gone white from the ordeal. Her mother stood behind her, putting her arms around Victoria's shoulders and kissing the top of her daughter's head with worry.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?" Melbourne asked. "I have a first-aid box next door, if you need it."
Victoria waved a hand in the air, her eyes closed and heart beating in her ears. "A little dazed and shocked, but otherwise fine. I didn't expect the door to give way like that."
"No, Ma'am, the previous owners always struggled with that door also." Melbourne paused and gave a hesitant smile. "Though perhaps not as much as you have."
Victoria's eyes fluttered open, smiling too. "I suspect not. Thank you for your help Mr..." she paused and held out one dainty hand. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."
Melbourne shook her hand with a firm grasp, grinning. "William. Though many call me Melbourne. I own the florist next door."
"Then thank you, Mr Melbourne. I look forward to seeing more of you – especially if you're going to act like my very own Superman, coming to my rescue like that." Victoria let go of his hand and folded her own hands in her lap, smiling warmly and getting a little colour back in her face.
Melbourne laughed at the idea. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I don't think I got your name," he realised, holding his hands behind his back and looking down at the girl's sparkling blue eyes.
"Victoria," she said, simply. "My name is Victoria." She rose from her chair and clapped her hands together. "And I have plenty to do today – first things first, replacing the door!"
Victoria went back to chattering to her mother excitedly, bouncing around the shop floor as though nothing had happened. Her mother was obviously more wary, trying to slow her down, holding her arm and following her around the room. Melbourne quietly slipped away from the scene, smiling to himself. It had been a long time since he had someone next door to talk to and since business was so slow, a young pretty girl taking ownership was bound to cause a stir, plus it wouldn't hurt him to have someone so astounding, physically and aurally, a few feet away every day. He had only spoken to her briefly but he could already tell that Victoria was someone who was filled with a great passion, something he had lost for his own business quite some time ago. He could tell that she was a force of nature just waiting to make business in the entire street great again, and he could not wait to watch her flourish and grow like one of his own flowers. As he left he could faintly hear her fast voice describing what she wanted to make of the cafe.
A brand new door for the shop was installed that day – gleaming white with a semi circular glass panel about two thirds of the way up where Victoria put up a fresh glossy sign written in red script:
UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT.
GRAND RE-OPENING SOON.
Victoria's mother, satisfied that Victoria was in perfect health after the attack from the door, got into the back of the silver car and it sped away, leaving Victoria on the curb, a suitcase at her feet, waving into the distance. Melbourne didn't see Victoria again on that first day. She picked up her suitcase and vanished inside her shop.
The next day was unbearably warm. The sky stretched blue and clear over the entire city of London with barely a breeze, which made for an uncomfortable morning as all the hot air got trapped between the buildings and settled low in the air. It was a drastic change from yesterday's mild weather and grey skies. Melbourne ate breakfast at 7am, showered, dressed and opened the shop for 8am, keeping the door wide open and the windows flung open too. He fiddled with his window displays, re-arranging the bouquets, removing the flowers that were wilting and withering, he rolled his crisp white shirt sleeves to his elbows and polished the inside of his windows, enjoying the quiet for once, but he found himself glancing towards the shop next door every so often. He didn't have long to wait for Victoria to emerge on to the street again with the sound of loud pop music behind her. She was back in her dungarees that had the bottoms rolled up to her ankles so they fit properly, white trainers, a sunshine coloured t-shirt and her hair in braids, she had a metal bucket in one hand and a sponge in the other. Victoria was grinning with determination and didn't seem to mind the hot, muggy weather as she began to scrub the graffiti from the windows that were still intact. Melbourne watched her from his own window, smiling fondly, rather taken by the youthful energy that was suddenly taking the end of the street by storm.
"Good morning, Mr Melbourne!" Victoria said, spotting him through the glass. "How was your evening? Did you sleep well?" She rubbed some sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Very well, Miss Victoria. How is your head this morning? It looks much better today."
"It's only a scratch. Thank you so much again for helping yesterday, Mama and I are extremely grateful for your help."
"It was nothing," Melbourne insisted with a shrug. "I was only too happy to help."
He felt his heart flutter as she smiled at him and went back to washing her windows, singing and wiggling along to her music as she did so. Melbourne watched her as she began to jump, trying to reach nearer the top of the window, making strained noises as she reached and fell back to the ground. Her trainers provided a little springy cushion that helped to propel her a few more millimetres into the air and protected her feet when she fell back to Earth, but it wasn't enough to help the short woman reach the top of the window. She made a determined sound as she jumped up once more. Victoria groaned and threw her sponge into the bucket, folding her arms across her chest in defeat. Melbourne raised an eyebrow, somewhat amused by Victoria's struggle – he thought that the whole thing was actually very sweet.
"Would you like a hand, Miss Victoria?" He asked, stepping out into the street and smiling gently.
Victoria lifted her head and considered it for a moment before nodding. "If you wouldn't mind, Mr Melbourne, that would be extremely helpful." She unfolded her arms and softened her expression at him, holding the bucket out for him to take. He took it with a smile and scrubbed at the remaining graffiti that Victoria couldn't quite reach. Inside, Victoria dusted the surfaces and swept the floor, making everything look as new as she could. The floorboards were creaky and dull, even after all the dust had been swept away.
Melbourne kept smiling at Victoria from outside the window as he worked; he hadn't smiled like this in a long time. "All done, Miss Victoria, I must say that you've really done this place well so far."
"Thank you. It was a struggle to get all the gum off yesterday so can't wait for it all to be finished, really. It's going to look beautiful." Victoria sighed happily, looking at the shop with great pride.
"With a new owner as beautiful as you then I think you might be right." Melbourne muttered, face red. He undid the top button on his shirt to reveal that the skin of his neck and chest gleamed with sweat.
Victoria blushed lightly at the compliment and laughed, glad that in this weather it could be mistaken for sunburn instead. "Oh! Whilst you're here, could you perhaps help me replace the light-bulbs? Even when I stand on a chair I'm too small," Victoria laughed and gestured to herself.
"What you lack in stature, you make up for in charm," Melbourne said, gladly walking into the shop and taking the light-bulbs from the counter.
"I think it might be you who are the charming one, Mr Melbourne," Victoria grinned, slipping out to the back of the shop.
Melbourne stood on a chair to change the light-bulbs, balancing carefully as it rocked from where its legs were worn and misshapen, humming along to Victoria's music. He had no worries about leaving his shop unattended since he rarely got a customer and, as such, no one ever felt the need to try and rob the store either. He enjoyed feeling useful for once by doing the odd jobs that Victoria asked of him – it certainly beat sitting around the shop waiting for customers that never came and waiting for closing time so he could watch television, read, then go to bed. His boring routine had finally be interrupted. Things had been simpler and more exciting with his wife and son. Victoria felt like a breath of fresh air, especially during a sweltering London summer day. Who knew what kind of life Melbourne would have now he had Victoria next door to talk to? Their introduction had been unexpected and exciting, so what was to come next? Melbourne didn't know, but he was impatiently anticipating all of it. Victoria returned moments later with two glasses of lemonade and plenty of ice, with multicoloured straws sticking out of the top.
"I thought you might be thirsty," she explained, handing Melbourne a glass as he stepped down from the chair. "I know it's awfully hot today." Her stomach grumbled, she giggled helplessly and clutched her stomach with her free hand. "Would you like to close early for lunch? It's on me, of course, as a thank you for helping me out."
"I'd be honoured to," Melbourne said simply, gently tapping his glass against Victoria's, both of them grinning.
They found a quiet restaurant a few streets away to have lunch. There was a steady hum from the fans on the ceiling, swirling the hot air around the restaurant. They were sat at a table for two by the window and Victoria's feet dangled a few inches off the floor; she couldn't help but gently swing her feet under the table, looking out of the glass, watching the cars and people go by until they were brought over menus by a waiter. Melbourne found that he was captivated by Victoria again – the way she looked and dressed, the way she smiled at everyone, the way she kicked her feet, they way she scrunched up her nose when she was thinking. She was, in the purest and most simple terms, beautiful in every single way. She oozed charm and appeal and Melbourne was gladly taking it all in and letting himself be awestruck by her.
"You're staring again, Mr Melbourne," Victoria laughed over her menu. "Have I got something on my face?"
Melbourne laughed too, slightly embarrassed. "Not at all. Has it always been your goal in life to own a cafe?" He added quickly, hoping to change the subject.
"Nope! I bought it on a whim."
"Brave, but hardly the wisest business move," Melbourne told her, raising an eyebrow.
Victoria waved a hand. "Maybe not, but it looked so sad and run down that I wanted to do something. I don't want to spend all my days sitting around and doing nothing like Mama would have me do. Anyway, who knows what I'll do with it in the future? Perhaps when I have it up and running to its full potential I'll sell it and move on to a new venture?"
"You don't plan to stick around then?" Melbourne tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Victoria shrugged and sighed longingly, looking up at Melbourne. "I don't know. If I have a reason to stick around once the cafe is thriving again, then I might."
"I hope you find a reason to stay." The words tumbled from Melbourne's lips clumsily and he caught Victoria's eye with a small smile.
"I'm sure I will," Victoria said confidently, grinning back at Melbourne and nudging him with her foot under the table.
They talked for a long time over lunch, getting to know each other, telling jokes, talking about everything and anything that came to mind. Victoria told her new-found friend about her German heritage, choosing to omit the royal connections, and about her stifling mother and uncles. She told him that she could play the piano, speak German fluently, she enjoyed reading and she loved her dog, Dash, more than anything, but he couldn't come and live with her in the flat upstairs just yet – not whilst it was in such a terrible state and she was busy trying to redecorate and clean the coffee shop. She briefly mentioned that she never had a father but she would never let herself get too upset over it. Melbourne, in turn, briefly mentioned his ex-wife and they had a mutual, silent understanding not to press the matters so soon into their friendship. Conversation flowed easily between them like a spring river – it was quick and bright and effortless. Melbourne told her about how he grew all the flowers he sold in an allotment not far from the shop, and he promised to bring Victoria a bunch for her living room after she had showed interest in Melbourne's green-fingered hobby.
"Would you like some help in cleaning the flat?" Melbourne asked. "I've nothing else to do. I can keep the shop closed for a day and help. I wouldn't want you to be away from Dash for too long."
"You'd do that for me?" Victoria asked, genuinely touched by the offer.
Melbourne let out a long breath, smiling at her. "Business isn't exactly booming. It wouldn't make much of a difference."
"You're already making a difference to me." Victoria reached over and laid a hand on Melbourne's, squeezing it lightly in thanks. "You're too kind, Mr Melbourne."
"Call me Melbourne, Miss Victoria."
Victoria shook her head. "Only if you stop calling me 'Miss Victoria', we both sound so formal, don't we? Plain Victoria is fine. In fact, I think I'm going to call you 'M'," she said decidedly, slipping her hand away. "Do you mind that, M?"
Melbourne laughed, bewildered and delighted by this confident woman and her directness. "If you like it, then I like it too."
Their walk back to their shops was a quiet one. It was comfortable silence though, where they basked in the heat of the day with stomachs full of tasty food, powered up and re-fuelled for an afternoon of work. Melbourne went back to his shop in a strangely good mood for the first time in a long time. He hadn't felt this wonderful since his wife was still around. In the coffee shop, Victoria polished the floorboards, bought new windows to replace the broken ones and booked an appointment to have them put in. She bought new tables and chairs, new coffee machines and fridge-freezers for the kitchen and began to plan and buy her décor to liven up the dark shop and bring some energy back to it. Melbourne frequented the cafe and flat throughout the coming days to help out where he could – moving furniture, providing company and helping to re-paint the worn, yellow walls in the living area. He laughed when Victoria managed to get blue paint from her hands on her face. She scrunched up her nose trying to see the smudge on the end of it, laughing too.
"Is business still slow for you?" Victoria asked when they took a break. She sat cross legged in the middle of the floor, sipping at her water.
"Regretfully," Melbourne sighed.
Victoria nodded slowly and set her glass gently beside her. She licked her lips and wrung her hands together before pursing her lips together. "You...know more about running a shop than I do," she said finally. "Neither this cafe, or your flower shop, has done particularly well, not for a long time. So...I think I have a proposition for you."
Melbourne shuffled closer, interested. "I'm all ears."
"You're older and wiser than I am and I think we've become great friends."
"I agree," Melbourne said with a smirk, quietly teasing her.
Victoria rolled her eyes fondly. "I think we should knock the wall between our shops down," she said hastily. "Combine them. A cafe and a florist. A bigger shop, more variety, it's probably quite unusual to have something like this too, so plenty of customers and visitors from a novelty point of view, at the very least."
He took a deep breath. "A very risky move," Melbourne said to her, hesitating and mentally calculating the pros and cons. He liked the idea of the two of them running a joint business, the two of them working closely together and sharing the workload. It was true that the novelty could work in their favour. But what if Victoria decided to leave after all? What if the novelty factor didn't pan out quite as well as they had hoped and they both went under after spending so much money trying to combine their businesses? There were so many what ifs to consider...
"Risky, yes," Victoria agreed, looking Melbourne in the eye. "But you have far more knowledge than I and I could do with working along side someone who can guide me in business. I really do think that we could make this work, gradually, in time. Build up something great and original."
Melbourne sighed heavily and began laughing, totally enamoured by this brilliantly imaginative and brave woman once again. "Okay! Let's do it," he laughed at himself, hardly able to believe that he was agreeing with her on this.
Victoria squeaked with delight and shook Melbourne's hand to seal the deal.
"I think this is going to be the start of something very beautiful, M."