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The Village Shop

As Stephanie looked at her little shop, the years seemed to slip away and she could see it as it was when they first bought it. It took her and Mike months to do it up to the quaint French style in keeping with the rest of the village. Mike didn't like the idea of all the flowers; too many wasps, he'd say in awkward French, the British accent coming through like a brick. It looked beautiful in summer though.

It was a year before they made a profit. Two years later and they married in the village church. His family seemed to take over the village. Stephanie's father called it "L'invasion anglaise". Still, he enjoyed drinking beer with her new father-in-law.

"Let's hope you can make this one last," her father said.

Time was cruel though and showed her that she could not. By the time she caught Mike with Martine, most of the village knew about the affair. The hurt sat deep in her heart for years.

She had been able to keep the business; it helped her carry on. She put all her efforts into it, even extending the back into a little garden and café.

Now, ready to sell it on to the next couple, she knew it was the one thing she'd done right.

Stephanie stood up and walked through the shop, to the garden. She had one last task to perform before handing over the deeds. Spade in hand, she started to dig.

Don't want them finding the bodies, she thought.

Story by:

Fiona Lambert

fjl83.wordpress.com

19 April 2015