You can read the story so far from the beginning here
Lord Peregrine stood in the centre of the shop and surveyed the chaos with approval. “I need to call the new stores something,” he said.
Tom frowned as he strode past, a large box of tinned tuna balanced easily in his arms. “You mean you only just thought of it now?” He set the box down easily on the floor next to the shelves.
“He had to leave it to the last moment to extract the maximum drama,” Paul said.
Lord Peregrine’s eyes narrowed at the accuracy of the statement. “I had other matters on my mind,” he said loftily. “Such as all the permits required for the new stores.”
“I dealt with those,” Tom said, rapidly stacking the tuna.
“And all the purchases for the stock,” Lord Peregrine said.
“I got most of those as well,” Tom said. “How about calling it The New Stores? It’s already being called that.”
Lord Peregrine frowned. “But there weren’t old stores,” he pointed out. “This means that these can’t be the new stores.”
“They could be the new stores because they’re new to this location,” Paul said. “They’re not replacing something, but they’re the first of their kind here, so they’re the new stores.”
Lord Peregrine frowned. “There was a small inn here once, before the bridge was built, and they also carried merchandise for the local farms. They could have been considered a store.”
“When was the bridge built?” Tom asked. Lord Peregrine shrugged.
“Do you remember which king was on the throne?” Paul asked. “Or where the permit for the bridge came from? It could make a difference if it came from York or Wakefield.”
Lord Peregrine looked shifty. “If the bridge did not have a permit, and the village bridge could have a permit somewhere but the paperwork has been lost, how long ago should it have been built so that it didn’t matter?”
“It must have been some time ago,” Tom said. “So this could be the new stores as the old stores were here before the bridge was built.”
“There are some bridges in Yorkshire that were built by the Romans,” Lord Peregrine said. “And they may not have had a permit if they were conquering the country.”
Tom looked at Paul who was trying not to laugh. “If it was more than twenty years ago, it doesn’t need a permit,” he said. “Besides, who’s going to complain.”
Lord Peregrine frowned. “Christine complains about everything,” he said with perfect truth.
“She’s not going to complain about a bridge that she relies on,” Tom said. “She’s only just calmed down after the roadworks finished.”
“Are you sure that it’s twenty years?” Lord Peregrine asked.
“Yes!” Tom lied. “Try and forget about the bridge and think of a name for the new stores.”
“Because many monks built bridges after William the Bastard laid waste to the Dales,” Lord Peregrine said. “And those permits are probably still in the Vatican. It could take months to get a copy.”
“Why did you mention permits?” Tom asked Paul despairingly. “Don’t worry about the bridge,” he told Lord Peregrine. “I’ll look into it for you. Instead, worry about the name of the new stores.”
Lord Peregrine thought for a moment. “Are there any snacks left by Hilary or Bracken in the kitchen?” he asked. “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
Tom watched him head into the kitchen as he slotted in the last cans of tuna, then he turned to Paul. “Are you doing an internet search?”
Paul looked up from his phone. “How old do you think the bridge is?” he asked.
Tom shrugged. “I’d guess Victorian, but there is no way that there’d be a problem about a permit now. The local council is too busy creatively causing problems for stuff being built now.”
“That’s a cynical view,” Paul said.
“That’s the view of someone who has spent too many hours on the phone to local councils trying to get a straight answer to an easy question.” Tom stood and stretched. “We should be fine to open on Friday.”
Paul was concentrating on his phone. “There probably won’t be too much traffic at this time of year,” he said. “Though I think the locals will be happy to call in rather than face the crush in the bigger towns if they just want something small.” He tapped his screen. “I think the permit would have been needed if it was built after 1965, and the bridge is definitely older than that.”
“That’s good to hear,” Lord Peregrine came out, a sausage roll in his hand. “I can concentrate on the name of the new stores now.” He paused. “You are sure that I do not need to worry about the permit which could possibly exist but have been mislaid?”
“Yes!” Paul and Tom said in unison.
“Then I wish the new stores to be called The Lord’s Store,” Lord Peregrine said grandly.
“That sounds like it’s selling Bibles,” Paul said. “And stuff for churches.”
Lord Peregrine looked around. “Someone from a church could buy tuna here if they wished,” he said.
“The problem of the bridge is weighing on your mind,” Tom said. “Why don’t you take a moment to plan the garden at the back. If we have a good vegetable garden there, we can impress the summer tourists with our fresh food.”
“And I can consult with Jed about which vegetables we should grow,” Lord Peregrine said. “For example, they grow cabbage but not carrots.”
“And we stock all the seeds,” Tom said.
“That is a thought,” Lord Peregrine said.
Tom relaxed a little. “We should get the plates and cups for the café unpacked and run them through the dishwasher,” he said. “That way they’re ready on Friday morning.”
“How about The Peregrine’s Nest?” Lord Peregrine asked.
“It sounds like a pub,” Tom said. “And our license is very clear. We can sell alcohol to take away but we can’t serve it in the café. We’d get into trouble.”
“There is far too much paperwork,” Lord Peregrine complained. He frowned. “How about The Mart Shop?”
Paul looked up from his phone. “What?”
“What have you been watching on television?” Tom asked.
“I’ve watched little television over the last few weeks,” Lord Peregrine said. “It’s been so busy, with the new witch at Rowan Cottage, then all the happenings with Samgan and the cellar, I haven’t remembered to turn the television on.” He wandered over to the perfumes. “Why don’t the pictures match the scent?”
“I have no idea,” Tom said. “And I don’t have time to switch the labels. I’ve put up a warning notice here.”
“Nobody reads notices in shops,” Lord Peregrine said. He picked up a bottle marked Honeysuckle. “This has the most delightful bluebell scent,” he said. “It’s excellent quality.”
“You obviously bought them from a good brand,” Tom said. “Why don’t you call it The New Stores? It’s a new store, and no-one would be confused.”
“How about Prices Slashed?” Lord Peregrine picked up a nearby bath bomb. “This is bright orange, it has an orange ribbon and an orange label calling it St Clements but it smells like apples.”
“It’s probably marketing,” Paul said. “If you called the new stores Prices Slashed, people may not realise that this shop has good quality merchandise. Most people think that cheap stuff can’t be good quality.”
“We could call it Quality Prices,” Lord Peregrine said. He wandered over to the pet food. “I always thought that you didn’t need to feed cats much. I thought that they usually make their own arrangements.”
“I think it depends on the cat,” Tom said. “We need a name that would appeal to the tourists in summer.” He looked at Paul. “The locals are likely to come here anyway, because it’s convenient. We need something that will appeal to passing traffic.”
“We require postcards,” Lord Peregrine said. He prowled back to the perfumes. “These are remarkable perfumes. This one with the daffodil on the front and labelled Jonquil has a delicious rose scent. I shall have to buy these.”
Tom realised that he was clenching his fists. “First of all, we have ordered postcards but there’s a problem with the supplier. And you can’t buy the perfumes because we need the stock for when we open. You could go back to the site you got them from and order some more.”
“That is an excellent suggestion,” Lord Peregrine said. “And they also had candles.” He prowled back around to the food colouring. “Doesn’t anyone dye their food with spinach juice anymore? We could call the new stores The Summer Tourist Mart,” he said.
“Are you doing this deliberately,” Tom said. He wandered over to the café area and collapsed into one of the chairs. “No-one goes to a shop that looks like it’s for tourists. It’ll make the locals think that you don’t want them shopping here and any passing traffic will think that it’s just full of cheap junk that the locals don’t want.”
“We could try The Mart with Good Things,” Lord Peregrine said.
“We shouldn’t use mart because it’s an American term,” Paul said. “You’ll find a few places around using it, but it’s not really something that sounds like the English countryside.”
“I suppose we could try The Store with Good Things,” Tom said. “But it would be a long sign. Do you have a signwriter in mind? They may not be able to do something at short notice, with it coming up to the holidays.”
“I have a woman who owes me a favour and who has training in such things,” Lord Peregrine said. “I made sure that she had a good supply of materials at hand before I warned her to be ready.”
The door behind them opened and Hilary stepped in from the street carrying a large, lidded box. “It’s freezing out there,” she said.
“What do you think that the new stores should be called?” Lord Peregrine asked.
“Why aren’t you calling it The New Stores?” Hilary asked, bustling past them to the kitchen.
Tom shook his head and held up his hands. “Don’t ask,” he said. “So far suggestions have included Prices Slashed and The Summer Tourist Mart. We’re out of ideas.”
“Why don’t you call it The Village Store?” Hilary placed the box carefully on the counter and looked around as the men followed her in. There was a long silence.
“It’s perfect,” Lord Peregrine said. “I shall speak to the signwriter at the earliest opportunity.” He paused for a moment. “How is Samgan?”
Hilary thought for a moment. “He’s been asleep for most of the day,” she said. “And that’s not a bad thing. He was seriously ill.” She looked at Paul, who nodded.
“If you want to ask him questions, he could probably answer them,” Paul said. “But he wouldn’t be able to answer them well and I don’t think he’d answer them fully, even if he wanted to. When you’ve been that ill, your brain doesn’t work so well. You need to give him time.”
“What have you brought down?” Lord Peregrine asked, peering over her shoulder.
“Here are one dozen individual shepherd’s pies, already frozen and ready to go into your freezer which Paul promised me was working.”
“It is!” Paul said.
“I’ve put the instructions for reheating on a printed label on each separate shepherd’s pie and they should be fine,” Hilary said. “The packaging was sold as microwave safe, but I’d test it out if I were you first.”
“I’m quite hungry after our debate,” Lord Peregrine said carefully.
“It is almost lunch time,” Paul said, licking his lips.
“And we should test a few samples, just in case,” Tom added.
Hilary pulled out three cartons and then thrust the big box at Paul. “I’ll heat up these for you if you put the rest away in the freezer.” She looked over at Tom. “And I would expect at least a cup of tea for my efforts.”
“Coming right up,” Tom said.
“This is going to be a wonderful success,” Lord Peregrine said happily.
