Chapter Text
Rose Tyler was a shop girl. More specifically, Rose Tyler owned a lovely, little, book shop. It was called The Shop Around the Corner.
Rose’s grandparents had started the business — the small book shop in Notting Hill — before the neighbourhood was posh and trendy.
Next, her mother and father took their turn owning the shop. Dad kept the accounts, and Mum worked the counter.
When Rose was but an infant, her father was struck by an out-of-control vehicle. He died, leaving a widow, a baby girl, and the book shop.
But instead of selling the shop as Rose’s mother had been advised, she decided to run it herself. She changed it from a general purpose book shop into one which specialised in children's books. Rose’s mother transformed it into someplace not only special, but perhaps even a bit magical.
People came from far and wide to the little shop. There was story time. Authors came to do readings. And then, there were the window displays. And oh, such a delight they were.
Rose grew up spending most of her free time in the shop.
But then one horrible day, she lost her beloved mother, and Rose Tyler was left all alone. She had to leave school without getting her A levels even though she was bright and destined for big things. She obtained a rather good-for-nothing boyfriend — a would-be author by the name of Jimmy Stone. He was a bit older, and he charmed Rose. Jimmy showed early promise, and his first novel was published when he was only eighteen. Unfortunately, since then, he’d been in a bit of a slump. “Writer's block,” he was known to say. Three years of writer’s block.
But Rose didn't have the guts to throw him out. Whenever she threatened to toss him, he would turn on the charm. He would gain her sympathy, reminding her that he was surprisingly well connected within the London literary scene. "My next novel is on my fingertips, I can feel it Rose," he would say.
A wonderful woman kept the business accounts: Sarah Jane Smith. She was the friendliest, kindest, smartest woman that Rose knew, but she was also a bit of a mystery.
Rose's best friend, Mickey Smith, worked at the shop stocking shelves, and sometimes helping behind the counter.
A bubbly, outgoing, artistic girl, Lynda Moss, was hired to to keep the tradition of their renown window displays alive.
It was a pleasant place to be day in and day out. It was a comfortable same-old, same-old life. Owning the shop was rather like wearing a comfortable old cardigan on a rainy day, or your favourite pair of shoes for a long walk.
It was Rose's life. She really didn't have anything else. The people who worked there had become her family. The customers were her friends.
The only bit of excitement in her life, other than her squabbling with Jimmy, was her online friendship with a mysterious man whose online ID was Doctor10. They had never met in person, nor did they plan to.
oOo
"Rose dear, which way did you come into work this morning?" Sarah Jane asked as she walked through the front door.
"Just the same old way I always come. Took my regular bus. Why you asking?” Rose asked, seeing an odd look on her friend's face. "What, Sarah Jane?"
Sarah Jane cringed. ”You know the old Henrik's ruin?"
"Course I do! I saw it blow up, remember?" Rose replied.
Sarah Jane stared at her.
"Will you just spit it out already?” asked Rose, snorting a laugh.
"Well, there are big fancy signs posted around the block announcing that a brand new Wolfe's Books. In fact it will be their brand new flagship store. Seems they’re breaking ground this week. It will be opening late winter next year.” Sarah Jane almost whispered, and then looked around the small shop.
“And I suppose this is the part where you tell me this is the final nail in the coffin.” Rose Tyler leaned over onto the ancient wooden counter and propped her chin in her hands with a sigh.
"It'll be okay, Rose. You'll see. We've always been able to pull through before, and we'll do it again. We'll adapt! Maybe we can open an espresso bar for the grown ups!” Sarah Jane enthused. “They can sit and chat while the children look at books! Or we could start selling more books for young adults. Vampires are awfully popular these days.”
“Don’t lie, please,” Rose said.
Sarah Jane sighed. “I have projected we can stay afloat for five, six more months at the most. That’s taking into account the increased Christmas and holiday receipts in November and December.”
"I am not going to bow to pressure and sell books written for adults which are marketed to children! Mum would roll in her grave!" Rose said steadfastly. She looked at the spooky but not scary Halloween display that Lynda had finished yesterday. "There will be no sparkly vampires in this shop!"
Lynda hurried from the window to the front counter. ”Just this morning I heard John Wolfe, the smug git. He was on the Reinette Radio Show. He had the gall to say that Wolfe's Books is singlehandedly responsible for revitalising reading as a leisure activity. He actually said he had brought back book reading from extinction!”
"No!” Rose exclaimed. “He said that? As if people had ever stopped reading! People in our circles never stopped reading. Maybe the sort of people he associates with have stopped reading," she said proudly.
"You mean soulless blood sucking vampires?" offered Sarah Jane. She wore a pleased, smug look.
"Y'know, I think I saw a vampire last night outside of my flat," Mickey added as he arranged a pyramidal shape of train-themed storybooks on a circular table. The display didn't hold, and the books fell like a house of cards. He started his structure again.
"Mickey, you did not see a vampire. Last week you thought you saw a werewolf. And the week before, you thought you saw an evil robot.” Rose smirked.
"Not a robot, Rose! It was a cyberman!" Mickey said seriously with a nod. "Some poor sod had his brain cut right outta 'is 'ead an' probably never even saw it comin'." He shook his head sadly.
"Right," drawled Rose as she rolled her eyes.
Mickey and Lynda returned to their duties, and then Rose leaned close to Sarah Jane.
"Doctor10 emailed me again last night," said Rose.
"He did? What did he say?" Sarah Jane asked her eyes twinkling.
"He asked for advice about his business. He's afraid he's expanding too quickly." Rose took a bite of her apple.
"Has he ever told you what business he is in?" Sarah Jane asked.
"Nope, and I told him not to. We are committed to keeping our communications completely anonymous," Rose said, nodding her head.
"Be careful, Rose. There are a lot of nutters out there. He could be in prison. Has he asked your for money? He could be married!"
"Or he could be an axe murderer!" added Mickey, interrupting Sarah Jane.
"Or he could be Wills! I'll bet it’s Prince William, and he planning on overthrowing the Queen! Expanding his business is just a euphemism," Lynda said, wide-eyed and breathless.
“Lynda, you win. You’ve figured out who my friend is,” Rose laughed. "I've got an online friendship with Prince William."
The little bell on the entry door sounded merrily. In came a tall, thin man with two children in tow. Sarah Jane nudged Rose with her elbow and inclined her head in his direction. Rose rolled her eyes. Her friends were constantly trying to get Rose to end it with longtime no-good boyfriend, Jimmy-with-the-Roving Eye. “Now isn’t he a good looking man,” whispered Sarah Jane.
“With children. Usually that means someone is married,” chuckled Rose.
“No wedding ring,” Sarah Jane countered.
"Go on, find some things," the man prompted the children. He grinned, and the two children were quickly off exploring the shelves. The dark-haired boy with curly hair found a picture book about space pirates. He dropped down onto the carpet and thumbed through it hungrily, his tongue slightly out of his mouth.
A serious-looking, ginger-haired girl wearing glasses seemed be more methodical. She skimmed her small hand along the raised spines of the volumes in the classics and literature section. Slowly, she pulled one book off of the shelf at a time, as if looking for just the right title.
"Good morning, may I help you find something?" Rose cheerfully asked the man as he approached the counter.
"Naw, I'll just let them pick. They know what they want. Could be a while though. You have a chair for this old man to rest his legs?" he joked.
"Your children are picky, then?" she joked.
"Nope, not mine." He said, shaking his head.
"Not picky?" she said with a laugh.
"Nope, they’re not my children. And yes, they are picky. Well," he drawled, “Ginger is picky. No, not picky. Discerning. And Curly isn’t. He just wants all of them. Books are integral to their lives, always have been. In fact, the love of books goes back generations in my family," he said proudly, pushing his sexy specs up his nose.
“I like the sound that,” Rose said. She smiled, letting her tongue peek between her teeth. “But if they aren’t your children, whose are they? You their manny?” Rose teased.
“What? Me?” He pointed to himself. “No! I’m not their manny, and who ever came up with that awful word should be banned from England. Banned.”
Rose laughed, and the man’s serious face was transformed as he smiled brightly.
“Actually, I’m babysitting. They belong to my half-sister Donna." The man turned and pointed towards the back of the shop. "That curly-headed ragamuffin is Ian." He then turned his attention towards the juvenile classics section. "And over there is the lovely and brilliant Barbara. I suppose I’m really their half-uncle, but that just sounds silly, so Uncle John it is."
“Well, Uncle John, it seems you come from a family that actually values books! I told you reading never died out as a pastime, Sarah Jane,” Rose called into the back room. She turned back to Uncle John. ”You know what my friend up there working on the window displays heard on the radio this morning? On that awful Reinette show?" Rose asked.
John frowned for a moment. ”What?"
"She heard the owner of Wolfe's Books say that his store has saved reading from extinction. Imagine that! Extinction! Like he's the Greek god of books or something." Rose rolled her eyes.
The man smirked a bit. "Well, if you put it that way, I can see-"
"And now he's opening up one of his — his mega-monstrous temples to — to the almighty pound around the corner from me!" Rose was fuming now.
"And this is bad because?" he asked.
"This book shop was opened before the War. It survived The Blitz. My grandparents bought it, and they left it to my parents. But when I was a baby, Dad died, and Mum took it over and made a go of it all on her own until I lost her too. It has been a thriving business for years and years but now — now I'm afraid we're gonna go out of business. We just can't compete with the likes of Wolfe's." Rose shook her head, and sighed.
"But isn't it good that people are reading? That they are starting book clubs and meeting someplace cheerful and safe? And kids are excited about reading? Begging their parents to get them books?" he asked earnestly.
"Yeah, I guess so. Just jealous, I suppose," she said, defeated.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" he said kindly, seeing the sad look in her eyes.
"Hey Uncle John, can we get these?" said the boy carrying a large stack of books. The girl trailed behind. She pressed a single, beautifully bound volume to her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.
"Of course Ian!" he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Like I was saying to this charming lady, books are our life!"
The boy hefted the pile onto the counter, and then the girl daintily placed hers on the top of the stack.
"Anne of Green Gables," Rose said with a sigh. “That’s a perfect choice, young lady. Every girl should read this one."
"I've been waiting to read it until I could find a pretty copy, and yours was the prettiest I have found," the young girl replied quietly, as she tucked herself under her uncle's arm.
"And let's see what we have here. Very exciting choices! You have pirates and space aliens, robots, rocket ships, and the solar system. Outstanding!" said Rose to the grinning boy.
"Uncle John loves science fiction stuff, too." Ian looked up at his uncle, and pulled the man's head down to his mouth. "Ask her to lunch, she likes books and she's pretty and nice, not like you know who," he whispered loudly enough for Rose to hear.
"Ian," John said a bit sternly.
Rose blushed, hearing the boy's words while she rang up the sale. "That will be one hundred sixty-two pound fifty, please."
The man pulled notes totally two hundred pounds from his expensive-looking, Italian leather wallet.
"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I don't know that I have that much change. Not many people pay cash anymore."
"Consider it a donation to the health of your business." He grinned, and casually leaned on the counter.
"Oh, I couldn't do that!" protested Rose shaking her head.
"How about you buy me coffee then?" he flirted. "Or better yet, how about dinner?"
Rose's mouth gaped open for a moment, as she actually considered the offer for a minute. "I — I can't. I have—“ She shook her blonde head and bit her lip. "It's complicated."
Sarah Jane rolled her eyes dramatically and flapped her hand at Rose. "It's not that complicated, Rose!" she yelled from the business office doorway.
Rose turned and smirked at her friend.
"Well, if anyone understands complicated, it's me." He pushed his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry to have embarrassed you." He cringed, and then hissed through his teeth.
"Oh, no, that's not it at all! Really. I'm flattered. It's that, well, to be honest, I sort of have a — boyfriend." She blushed.
"More like sort-of a boyfriend!" interjected Lynda loudly from the front of the store. "He's a good-for-nothing lazy waaaaa--“ Lynda looked at the wide-eyed children, and cleared her throat. “He’s a very not-nice person. Doesn't value Rose. Treats her like rubbish. And he's a sponge."
"Preach it Lynda!" Mickey high-fived his friend.
"My friends seem to think it is their business to manage my personal life," said Rose, loudly.
"Well, I don't feel so badly then. I was feeling rather rejected there for a moment. Goodbye then. Maybe I'll see you around the neighbourhood." He hefted the heavy paper shopping bag -- sunny yellow with bubble gum pink polka dots. The bell of the door jingled, and the children skipped out behind their tall, brown-haired uncle.
“Oh, he was a good one, Rose. You lost your chance there,” Mickey chided.
"Shut it, Mickey," Lynda hissed.
No one spoke for about half a minute. But then Uncle John the door bell jingled, and he popped his head through the doorway. "Oh! Didn't know if you noticed, it's almost lunch time. Want to join us for fish and chips?"
Sarah Jane raised her eyebrows and nodded. Mickey put his hands on his hips and stared at Rose. Lynda pointed to the door, and motioned her head.
Rose frowned and chewed on her lip. ”Well, I suppose I am a bit hungry. Oh, what have I got to lose?" she asked out loud.
Sarah Jane smiled. "Nothing, Rose. You have absolutely nothing to lose."
Exactly! Rose grinned broadly as she left the shop, zipping up her hoodie sweatshirt against the crisp mid-October air.
"So your friends back in the shop called you Rose," he observed.
"Meddling friends, more like it. Uncle John,” she teased. “But yeah, Rose. Rose Tyler.”
“Just John.” He held out his hand to shake.
Rose grinned, and accepted it. “I’m sure you guessed, Just John. I own the Shop Around the Corner, well at least for a few more months." She stopped and looked across the street at the newly set up construction site of Wolfe's Books, sighing. "So what do you do, when you aren't babysitting your half-niece and nephew?" she asked with a grin.
"He owns-"
John slapped his hand over Ian’s mouth.
"I am,” he halted, “the president of a,” he again paused, “company that sells… things."
"Things, huh? What sort of things?" she asked her eyebrows raised, teasingly, looking down at Ian.
"Oh, this 'n that. Whatsits and whosits, and I do a bit of jiggery pokery from time to time as well."
Rose's mobile chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket, looked at it, and sighed. "The boyfriend," she said with a bit of a frown before she answered. "Hi Jimmy.” She listened. “Tonight? Awww, do I have to? You know how I hate going to those things. I never know what to say, and all of those posh people.” She sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. I'll see you at seven." She thumbed a button, ending the call.
"Why do you stay with him?" John asked pointedly. "Everyone in your shop seems to think he isn't worth your time. Why stick with him?"
"Not that it's any of your business," she replied half laughing, but serious. “He was there when Mum died, and I guess he sort of payed attention to me. But," she sighed, "to be honest, I really don't know why." She clenched her fists. "I'm supporting him." Her voice grew louder. "He says he's an author. But says he just hasn't found his muse."
"If I were him, I'd find you plenty inspiring." He waggled his eyebrows.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, he rarely even tries to write anymore and he's cheated on me more times than I can say, and-"
"Hold on." He touched her arm and stopped. "Cheated? On you? Then he is a wan— err, a not-nice person. I say dump him. Dump his sorry arse right now. Call him back this very minute, and dump him.”
Rose opened her mouth, but was interrupted.
"Ooo!" Ian exclaimed. "Uncle John saw the A Word! I'm gonna tell Mum!"
The man scooped up the boy. “Tell you what. I’ll buy you a 99 if you promise not to tell your mum. Deal?”
“Deal,” answered Ian as John swung him back down to the ground.
“Funny, that is just about the same advice that my friend gave me just the other day." Rose looked over at John and smiled.
“Your friend offered to buy you an ice cream if you dumped your boyfriend?” John teased.
Rose laughed. "Course not. He told me to dump his sorry... Bum. But yeah, I do like ice cream." She smiled cheekily.
"Ah, here we are! My favourite fish and chippy in all of London," said John, walking up to the takeaway window.
"Really? Mine too! They still use newspapers. You know, no one uses newspapers anymore. And they just don't taste the same without the newspapers. I was just telling Sarah Jane the very same thing the other day," said Rose.
"Yes! Newspapers! Everyone talks about being green and recycling and all of that, but if the chippies all just got together and used old newspapers, global warming would be halted in a week." John grinned.
The children looked at each other with knowing smiles and waggled their eyebrows, seeing something brewing between the two adults.
The foursome carried their lunch to the small public park across the street and sat on a bench. The children gobbled their food like it was their first meal in a month, and then ran off to the swings. John and Rose ate while they discussed books.
"I'll have you know that physics textbooks are very entertaining, Rose Tyler," John pronounced, pointing a piece of potato at her.
Rose laughed. "I'll take your word on that."
They quieted and watched the two children swinging.
"Don't give up." John said, quietly.
"Give up?"
"I'd hate to see you give up on your shop," John clarified.
She nodded, and then looked down at her watch. "Speaking of my shop, I have to get back to it." She stood up and offered her hand to shake. "Thank you John. You've been a big help."
"I helped? With what?" he asked with a smile.
"I am going to fight for my shop! I am going to fight like I am fighting for my very life! I hope to see you again John, especially when you make purchases like that last one." She stood and walked a few paces, but then turned over her shoulder and smiled brightly. "Bye!" She hurried off back to her shop.
John watched her with quickly growing fondness as she walked away.
Barbara skipped back from the swings. "I like her. She's nice. Too bad you're her mortal enemy."
oOo
"Rose! Darling! James Stone! My dear boy!" The woman double-kissed their cheeks.
"Lady Cassandra, you look stunning -- as always." Jimmy lifted the woman's hand, and kissed her knuckles.
The overly dramatic patron of the arts, Lady Cassandra O'Brien, had opened her opulent home to the bookish elite of London.
When Rose ended up at these things, she may have felt out of her element, but no one would have known it. She was always friendly. She would find an interesting person, and chat in a corner.
On the other hand, Jimmy always seemed to come away invigorated by the eclectic mix of authors, publishers, critics, playwrights, actors, and media people.
"Go on and mingle Jimmy. Maybe you'll find someone who is interested in your non-existent manuscript."
Jimmy side-eyed her.
"I'm going to check out the food." Rose gently pushed Jimmy on the back. He set off to find someone rich, connected, and gullible.
Rose headed for the dining room, where the appetisers were on display. She daintily picked up a single shrimp from the artfully arranged platter and placed it on her plate. A man to her left rudely reached right in front of her, diving for the shrimp platter. Using two shrimp, he used two pink crustaceans to scoop up three cream cheese rosettes. He shoved them in his mouth, and then licked his fingers.
"Excuse me, but that's the garnish," Rose said a bit curtly, "I'll clear out of your way if you'll give me a chance."
"Rose Tyler?" It was John.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised and confused, suddenly feeling rather self conscious in her simple skirt and pink sweater set, in contrast to the couture-dressed ladies around her.
"Lady Cassandra was just appointed to my Board of Directors yesterday," he said with a nod. "And," he tugged his ear, "and I'm here with my girlfriend." He swallowed hard, avoiding Rose's eyes.
"Your girlfriend." Rose nodded once. "Right. Of course. Girlfriend." She tugged on her earring. "I'm here with Jimmy. Of course. He's over there, talking with that telly and radio lady, Reinette Poisson."
"Ah. The man himself." John studied him.
Rose raised one eyebrow.
He made a funny noise in the back of his throat. "Sorta funny, actually -- your boyfriend talking to my girlfriend."
Rose set down her plate and protectively crossed her arms. "He's probably trying charm his way onto her show. Telling her all about his one and only novel that was published when he was eighteen. Glory days." Rose made a frustrated face.
"Rose! John!" Lady Cassandra swept up to the pair. "I was hoping the two of you would meet. You are in the same business after all. Has Rose told you that she owns the sweetest little children's book shop? But I'm afraid it isn't long for this world, and it's a shame because she knows more about children's literature than anyone else in London, John Wolfe." She gasped, eyes wide. "Oh I have just had the most brilliant idea! Capitalise, John, capitalise! Rose's loss can be your gain! A win-win all around. The children's book sector has become such a moneymaker. Go on, talk! Talk! Dig into those deep pockets of yours, John, and find a place at Wolfe's Books for Rose Tyler!" With that, the woman floated away.
Rose's mouth gaped. "You're John Wolfe," she said flatly. "Hmm. Funny. It never crossed your mind to tell me? Oh that's right! You sell things!" Rose seethed. "So what were you doing in my shop? Spying on the competition? No, thats not right is it? Because there is no way in hell I'll ever be able to compete with Wolfe's. I know, you were dancing on my grave!"
"What? Dancing on your grave? That's not very nice. I'm a nice person, not a -- grave dancer!" John crossed his arms.
"Well, I'm not feeling very well. I think I'm going to head home. No one here I can relate to anyway. Mostly heartless, rich business owners who don't understand the value of the small, independent shop in the life of a healthy community." Rose sniffed.
"Now that's not fair! My great-grandfather started Wolfe's Books one hundred twenty-five years ago in a shop not so different from yours up in Gallifrey!" He crossed his arms and tipped his head proudly.
"Where's that? Never heard of it!" challenged Rose hotly, leaning forward.
"Well ya' wouldn't have 'cos it's gone now!" He was clearly angry, but his voice had a hint of sadness in it as well. "And you know why I was in your store, huh? Because the kids begged me to take them to your store," he said defensively. "They are always going on and on about those overdone Willy Wonka candy floss and sweets windows of yours and of course they wanted to go in! But what those unsuspecting, innocent, little children didn't know is that they were being lured into your gingerbread house of-"
"Hello my angel!" Reinette swept in and looped her arm through John's. She was impeccably dressed from head to toe in designer clothing, the picture of perfection. "And who is this girl?"
"Reinette, uh, this is Rose Tyler. She owns the shop I told you about earlier today."
"Oh yes! That quaint little book shop with the exquisite window displays."
Rose smiled smugly at John as she spoke to Reinette. "They are exquisite, aren't they?"
"And not a single commercial character to be found! I admire your fidelity to the purity of children's literature, not sullying your shop by bringing in books which have movie or television tie-ins. But isn't it getting harder and harder to sell obscure and honestly, intellectually-challenging, but boring books to today's modern child?"
"Is this an interview?" Rose asked, tipping her head.
"Of course not, darling."
"Mr. Wolfe here," she nearly choked on his name, "brought his niece and nephew in today and between the two of them they chose eleven non-commercial and classic books, which they seemed more than happy to take off of my hands. If you'll excuse me, I need to be off. I'm not feeling too well."
Rose left the party and sent Jimmy a text message that she had taken a taxi home due to a throbbing headache. Now it was the truth.
oOo
Rose sat on her bed and opened up her laptop to check her email. There were fifteen new messages: an online book club message board announcement (tonight's chat cancelled); Mickey sending her a picture of himself on the UglyMeter (2.5 out of 10, beat that Rose!); four last chance sale on shoes/handbags/dresses/even more shoes ads (delete, delete, delete, delete -- can't afford to buy anything new); bank statement is ready to view (now that's depressing); Wolfe's Books now offering online ordering with same day in-store pickup (even more depressing).
She scanned the rest of the new emails, looking for something from Doctor10. She couldn't help but smile when the second to last email was from her anonymous friend.
Hello ShopGirl
Today was both brilliant and very, VERY not good. I feel badly about something that I did, or am about to do. Have we become so ruthless as human beings that we don't think of our fellow man (or woman) when it comes to business? If someone steals a watch from a jewellery store that person is charged with theft. But if I, as a businessman, intentionally do something that harms the livelihood of another business owner, it's just business. Am I wrong to feel badly? Or is business different than real life? I want to know what you think about this. It is keeping me awake.
Doctor10.
Rose read through the post and clicked reply.
Funny you should have this question of conscience today of all days. My business is in trouble. I am afraid I'm going to lose it. I own a shop that's been in my family for decades. Four! But now we're barely staying afloat. We can't afford to move or to expand. And I'm not even sure if those things would even help. My shop is a true part of our neighbourhood. It's in an historic building. I know people love our shop, but I'm at a loss as to how to drum up more business. And now I find out that a megasuperduperdiscount store that sells the same thing that I sell is moving in. What should I do?
Rose hit send. She checked a news website, and then checked her email one more time before bed. She bit her lip, smiling, as she saw it was a reply from Doctor10.
I think that you need to find an advocate, ShopGirl. Do you know anyone in the media? Perhaps you could convince them to do a story on the significance of small business owners as they pertain to the health of a neighbourhood. Do what you have to do to keep your business alive. People are depending upon you, ShopGirl! You have employees who can feed their families every week because of you. This is war! Take no prisoners! Goodnight."
oOo
The holidays rolled around and while business had increased during the most wonderful time of the year, it still was looking bleak for The Shop. Apparently Sarah Jane was rather well connected -- much to Rose's surprise -- and she arranged for several media outlets to do stories about The Shop and the decline of business activity within the neighbourhood due to the rise of shopping malls and superstores.
ShopGirl and Doctor10 continued their nightly emails with rare breaks. And if there was a day which one or the other didn't email or reply, they would send a doubly-long email the next.
oOo
It was a particularly cold morning in February and John Wolfe was running on a treadmill at his health club. He was having an endurance contest with his best friend and assistant, Jack Harkness.
"Hey, I know her! Turn that up, would ya?" John hollered while he continued his pace, blowing past the eight mile mark. A sweaty man turned up the volume on one of the many televisions hanging above the row of treadmills.
"You know her? And you haven't introduced me? That's not very nice of you, Doc," teased Jack, barely winded as he hit mile eight himself.
"She may be beautiful, but she's a pill!" John spat out, wiping the sweat from his brow, and then increasing the pace of his treadmill. "She thinks that she has the moral high ground just because she's the cute little independent shop owner, and I'm the big bad book magnate." He exaggerated the tone of his voice appropriately. "See, look at her! Is she crying? She is actually crying on the Beeb morning show!" he whinged.
"Don't be so hard on her Doc, she's probably gonna lose her store and her employees are gonna lose their jobs. She cares about people, it's obvious. Just look at her! She seems like she is a lovely person." Jack increased his speed to match John's. "And she's hot. If I were you, I'd sweep right in, be the big hero, give her a shoulder to cry on, offer her a job and someplace warm and manly to land."
"Yeah, well I'm not you. And she may be hot, but she's still a pill."
oOo
Winter trudged on, Valentine's Day arrived, and Cupid's little arrow clearly missed Rose Tyler's heart. On that most romantic day of hearts and flowers, Rose found out that Jimmy Stone had found someone else to sponge off of.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish!" exclaimed Sarah Jane as she hugged Rose.
"I'm not cryin' 'bout Jimmy, 'm cryin' 'bout the shop!" she sobbed into Sarah Jane's shoulder. "I've never been so happy as I was last night when I slapped that gorgeous face of his! But do you know who he has taken up with?" Rose stepped away and started laughing.
"Who?" asked her friend, as she handed Rose a tissue.
"That cow Reinette Poisson! They've been carryin' on in secret ever since they met at that awful party! You know, the night I found out who John Wolfe really was?"
"Oooo! The tosser!" spat Sarah Jane. "Here's to no more Jimmy Stone." Sarah Jane lifted her elegant china teacup and clinked it with Rose's Greenwich Royal Observatory Planetarium mug.
"Lynda's Valentine's Day display was beautiful," sighed Rose. "Last one she'll ever do for The Shop Around the Corner. I'm happy for her though, getting that posh job at Harrod's, decorating their windows."
"I think Mickey is going to give his notice today Rose," Sarah Jane said sadly. "I overheard him talking with Martha."
"Don't blame him really. Getting engaged on Valentine's. He's all grown up now, and he needs a real job. He's been my best mate since we were kids, but everyone has to leave home in the end. What kind of job do you suppose he's gotten? He's so hush-hush about it," asked Rose under her breath.
"I think he's going to be a secret agent!" said Sarah Jane, conspiratorially.
Rose rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right."
"No, seriously! I do! I saw him get into this fancy black SUV last week. It was the day he had his interview. It had official British government plates."
"Blimey," was all Rose could say.
"How goes it with Doctor10?" Sarah Jane asked.
"Every night, there he is in my inbox. His email is right there waiting for me when I get home. Seems he's the only reliable thing in my life right now, and I don't even know who he really is. Funny, that. We like the same books, the same foods, the same movies, and I don't even know know his real name."
"Well, I'm going to head home Rose. You know, why don't you come with me? I'm making chicken piccata and asparagus risotto. Seems silly that we have worked together all of this time, and never once have you been to my home."
"All right." Rose smiled kindly. "Thanks."
Over dinner, Sarah Jane admitted that she hadn't drawn a salary for herself for over five months. "I'm filthy rich," she said simply.
"Why do you work for me then? At a children's book shop?" Rose asked before she took a sip of white wine.
"Lonely. I travelled during much of my young adulthood with the most wonderful man. There was no romance, well at least not on his part, but I loved him with my whole heart. He was quite a bit older, you see, but he showed me things you wouldn't believe existed. And then one day, out of the blue, it was done. My traveling days were over. He had to return home, was forced to stop traveling. He had responsibilities, and I couldn't be a part of his life anymore." Sarah Jane looked off in memory.
"He wasn't married was he?" asked Rose.
"Oh no, nothing like that. He was important. He had a duty to uphold."
Rose gasped. "Was he a royal?"
"Something like that," she admitted, with a small smile. "He gave me this house, and left me with a small fortune, too. I suppose he loved me, in his own way." She smiled gratefully. "And it was enough for me. He was worth it. The life was worth it. Rose, do you have a plan for after?"
"No," she admitted, looking down at her plate.
"The end isn't here yet, but when, not if, the time does come that you have to close, don't give up on life just because the shop is gone. I could have given up after he left me with what I thought was nothing, but I didn't! And look what I have! He left me rich in so many ways, and not just financially. You have your memories of your family, your friends. And think of all of those happy children." Sarah Jane patted Rose's hand. "And one more thing. Go down fighting. I've arranged for some of my television friends to show up at your boycott rally tomorrow at Wolfe's grand opening."
"Did you make your sign?" asked Rose with a small smile.
"I did!"
Rose hugged Sarah Jane. She drove Rose home in her little green car, and Rose walked up the long stairwell into her lonely little flat. Rose dropped her weary self onto her sofa and opened her laptop to check her email. A chime message box appeared in the middle of the screen.
Doctor10: Are you there?
Rose thought for a moment. Should she respond? She had never real-time messaged with a stranger. Email seemed different somehow. Like meeting for lunch versus be picked up at the door by a date.
But she felt like she knew Doctor10. They'd been corresponding for months now. She'd pondered many times how funny it was in this modern age to have found someone to whom she felt so close, but had never met face to face. And to think it had all started when they had met on a virtual book club message board discussing H. G. Wells' The Time Machine. What harm could possibly come of it? It wasn't any different than emailing, right? Just faster.
She typed her reply, and then hovered over "enter" for a moment. She closed her eyes and tapped the key.
ShopGirl: I'm here.
Doctor10: Thought I'd take a chance that you were still up. Just read the email you sent last night. I'm so sorry that it has come to this. Is there no way your business can be saved? I am quite a successful businessman. Perhaps I could help you come up with a strategy to salvage your shop? Please, let me help you in your time of need.
ShopGirl: Successful eh? You sure you aren't just showing off?
Doctor10: Most definitely not showing off. Well, maybe showing off a little bit. But I am very successful. In fact, if I told you who I was, you would immediately recognise my name.
ShopGirl: You think you're so impressive. LOL.
Doctor10: I don't think I'm impressive, I am impressive. Back to your business problem. How badly do you want to save your business?
ShopGirl: IT. IS. MY. LIFE.
Doctor10: Well all right then, you are going to have to give it all you have got. Become the big bad wolf. Huff and puff and blow the competition down.
ShopGirl: Big bad wolf. That's more ironic than you could possibly imagine.
There was a pause in the typed conversation.
Doctor10: Would you like to meet in person?
Rose stared at the screen, and then typed.
ShopGirl: Why? Why now after all this time?
Doctor10: I could give you better advice if I knew your particular circumstances, and discussing things face to face would be much more efficient.
ShopGirl: Hmmm. Have to think about it.
Doctor10: We would meet in public. You could even bring a friend if you'd like.
ShopGirl: What if you are an axe murderer? You'd hack us both to pieces.
Doctor10: I'm not an axe murderer. I promise. And what if you are a crazy lady with 500 cats and you smell like you live in a sausage factory?
ShopGirl: I am a dog person, but I can't have a dog because of my current living situation. And I don't like sausage.
There was a pause.
Doctor10: I have a dog. His name is K9. Isn't that a great name for a dog? He's really smart, too. Can do lots of tricks.
There was another pause.
ShopGirl: Are you married?
Doctor10: I'm not married. I was married once long, long ago, but she died.
ShopGirl: I’m sorry.
Doctor10: Thank you.
Doctor10: I recently ended things with my girlfriend because she has been having a thing with some pretty boy she met at a party a few months back.
ShopGirl: You never mentioned you had a girlfriend.
Doctor10: You never asked.
ShopGirl: I told you I had a boyfriend.
Doctor10: To be accurate, you asked for boyfriend advice.
ShopGirl: Fair enough. I DID take your advice, by the way, and I dumped his sorry bum last week. Turns out HE was seeing someone for the past few months, too. Met her at a party as well. Hah! Maybe we should both stay away from parties, yeah?
Doctor10: But parties have the little nibbles! I love parties. Maybe we are going to the wrong parties. But I always bring a banana to a party just in case the little nibbles are rubbish.
ShopGirl: That is odd, but strangely wise advice. LOL.
Doctor10: So, back to my question. How about meeting for something simple like coffee or tea?
ShopGirl: I've never done anything like this before. What if you are disappointed in me? What if you see me and want to run away?
Doctor10: Why? Are you a scary alien or something? What if you are disappointed in me? What if you don't fancy blokes who wear brainy specs? Although, I can't imagine that you would be disappointed as I am devastatingly handsome.
ShopGirl: Humble too, I see. No, I'm not an alien. Just an average girl who lives in a surprisingly modest flat in Notting Hill. And I have no prejudice against brainy specs. Okay. Let's meet. I am feeling brave. How do you do that? You always make me feel braver than I am! But you had better tell me where and when right away or I will definitely lose my nerve.
Doctor10: Brilliant! How about that little tea shop on Kensington Park Road near Elgin in Notting Hill?
ShopGirl: I know the place. Saturday night? 8? I'll be the one reading the book.
Doctor10: Everyone reads books in the tea shop. Put a rose in the book.
ShopGirl: You can't be serious. A rose? Isn't that a big cliche?
Doctor10: If not a rose, a daisy. Or a peony. Or a sunflower. Doesn't matter. Just something that tells me you are you.
ShopGirl: Since sunflowers are HUGE I'll go with a rose.
Doctor10: It's a date. I'd better end this. I have a very early morning tomorrow. Very big day for my business tomorrow! Wish me well.
ShopGirl10: Good luck and Goodnight!
Doctor10: Goodnight ShopGirl :D
"He smiley'd me. He's never smiley'd me!" Rose said out loud, alarmed. She closed her laptop, panicked. "What have I just done?"