Keeping Her Up All Night by Anna Cleary Page A

Management, strolled in.
    He was doing the rounds, he said. Reminding everyoneof the next evening’s residents’ meeting. She noticed his shrewd, light eyes dart about, not missing a thing.
    ‘Doesn’t your lease come up for renewal soon?’ he said blandly. ‘Two months from tomorrow, isn’t it?’
    As if he didn’t know. And as if she needed reminding.
    He cast a measured glance at the shuttered glass wall. ‘You know, Amber, some of our tenants consider this a very desirable location. That access to the street is valuable. Properly used, with a good display, the whole arcade would stand to benefit from that entrance being wide open and attractive.’
    Amber was reminded of what one of her neighbours had recently said. Marc, the tenant of Homme, the menswear shop next door, had jokingly offered to swap premises with her. Homme could make a great splash at that entrance, Marc had enthused, making her and Serena laugh till they cried with his hilarious demonstrations of how he might arrange his favourite mannequins to attract attention.
    Listening to Roger now, Amber wondered if Marc’s suggestion had been more serious than she’d imagined.
    After Roger drifted away, she sat disconsolately at the counter and stared around the shop. To make a worthwhile display out on the street as well as in the mall would require heaps more stock. Then there’d be the necessary awning, the stands, the cost of the sign …
    Added to the cost of improving its interior, the shop’s current takings weren’t anywhere near sufficient to cover it.
    She held her head in her hands. Even though she’d only had the shop a couple of months, she couldn’t help feeling guilty. It was hers now, and like all the tenants there she had a responsibility in upholding the style of the arcade. With its wood panelling and leadlight framed windows,most of Kirribilli Mansions possessed an old-fashioned chic.
Most
.
    Somehow her mother had always managed to wind the arcade management around her little finger. As far as Amber knew Fleur Elise had never been refurbished in the nine years since Lise had taken Ivy on. Amber often wondered if her mother would have had more success if she’d ignored Ivy’s advice and taken another approach. Spent money to make money.
    As so often these days, her thoughts crept to the possibility of a bank loan. Wasn’t that how real business people commonly operated? Even without Roger’s prompting, this felt like the moment to strike with the changes she wanted. And how else was she to do it?
    Though what if Ivy was right? What if she purchased more stock and it all just withered and died? No return for the money, and no way to repay the loan?
    What was it Guy had said about the need to begin as you intended to carry on?
    She pushed thoughts of him away. Anyway, what would he—a songwriter—know about it? Sure, he seemed quite musical, but that was hardly a qualification for success in business.
    At lunchtime she turned the ‘Closed’ sign to face outwards and strolled down to the deli for a sandwich. As she waited at the counter Marc, her mall neighbour, came up behind her with a cheery, ‘Hi.’
    He bent to look closely at her, his liquid dark eyes anxious. ‘You’re looking a bit peaky, darl. You haven’t been listening to those poisonous rumours, have you?’
    She lifted her brows. ‘What rumours?’
    ‘Oh, nothing to worry about. Just that silly old madam again. Take no notice of anything she says.’
    Amber understood he was talking about DiannaDelornay, the elegant proprietress of Madame, the shop across the mall from Fleur Elise.
    ‘Come on, now. What did Di say?
    He didn’t take much coaxing. It seemed Di had requested a move to the other end of the mall. Apparently Di felt her glitzy little boutique was in danger of being embarrassed by the vibes from Fleur Elise.
    ‘Goodness.
Embarrassed?
’ Amber’s amused little tinkling laugh was pure fraud to cover her indignation.
    For heaven’s sake.