Falling For The Secret Millionaire

‘What, turn it back into a ballroom and an ice rink?’

‘No. When you were younger, you always liked craft stuff. You could turn it into a craft centre. It would do well around here—people wanting to chill out after work.’ Susan gave her a level look. ‘People like you who spend too many hours behind a corporate desk and need to do something to help them relax. Look how popular those adult colouring books are—and craft things are even better when they’re part of a group thing.’

‘A craft centre.’ How many years was it since Nicole had painted anything, or sewn anything? She missed how much she enjoyed being creative, but she never had the time.

‘And a café. Or maybe you could try making the old cinema a going concern,’ Susan suggested. ‘You’re used to putting in long hours, but at least this time it’d be for you instead of giving up your whole life to a job you hate.’

Nicole almost said, ‘That’s what Clarence suggested,’ but stopped herself in time. She didn’t want her mother knowing that she’d shared that much with him. It would give Susan completely the wrong idea. Nicole wasn’t romantically involved with Clarence and didn’t intend to be. She wasn’t going to be romantically involved with anyone, ever again.

‘Think about it,’ Susan said. ‘Isn’t it time you found something that made you happy?’

‘I’m perfectly happy in my job,’ Nicole lied.

‘No, you’re not. You hate it, but it makes you financially secure so you’ll put up with it—and I know that’s my fault because we were so poor when you were little.’

Nicole reached over the table and hugged her. ‘Mum, I never felt deprived when I was growing up. You were working three jobs to keep the rent paid and put food on the table, but you always had time for me. Time to give me a cuddle and tell me stories and do a colouring book with me.’

‘But you’re worried about being poor again. That’s why you stick it out.’

‘Not so much poor as vulnerable,’ Nicole corrected softly. ‘My job gives me freedom from that because I don’t have to worry if I’m going to be able to pay my mortgage at the end of the month—and that’s a good thing. Having a good salary means I have choices. I’m not backed into a corner because of financial constraints.’

‘But the hours you put in don’t leave you time for anything else. You don’t do anything for you—and maybe that’s what the Electric Palace can do for you.’

Nicole doubted that very much, but wanted to avoid a row. ‘Maybe.’

‘Did the solicitor give you the keys?’

Nicole nodded. ‘Shall we go and look at it, then have coffee and pudding back at my place?’

‘Great idea,’ Susan said.

The place was boarded up; all they could see of the building was the semi-circle on the top of the façade at the front and the pillars on either side of the front door. Nicole wasn’t that surprised when the lights didn’t work—the electricity supply had probably been switched off—but she kept a mini torch on her key-ring, and the beam was bright enough to show them the inside of the building.

Susan sniffed. ‘Musty. But no damp, hopefully.’

‘What’s that other smell?’ Nicole asked, noting the unpleasant acridness.

‘I think it might be mice.’

Susan’s suspicions were confirmed when they went into the auditorium and saw how many of the plush seats looked nibbled. Those that had escaped the mice’s teeth were worn threadbare in places.

‘I can see why that article called it a flea-pit,’ Nicole said with a shudder. ‘This is awful, Mum.’

‘You just need the pest control people in for the mice, then do a bit of scrubbing,’ Susan said.

But when they came out of the auditorium and back into the foyer, Nicole flashed the torch around and saw the stained glass. ‘Oh, Mum, that’s gorgeous. And the wood on the bar—it’s pitted in places, but I bet a carpenter could sort that out. I can just see this bar restored to its Edwardian Art Deco glory.’

‘Back in its earliest days?’ Susan asked.

‘Maybe. And look at this staircase.’ Nicole shone the torch on the sweeping wrought-iron staircase that led up to the first floor. ‘I can imagine movie stars sashaying down this in high heels and gorgeous dresses. Or glamorous ballroom dancers.’

‘We never really used the upper floor. There was always a rope across the stairs,’ Susan said.

‘So what’s upstairs?’

Susan shrugged. ‘Brian’s office was there. As for the rest of it... Storage space, I think.’

But when they went to look, they discovered that the large upstairs room had gorgeous parquet flooring, and a ceiling covered in carved Art Deco stars that stunned them both.

‘I had no idea this was here,’ Susan said. ‘How beautiful.’

‘This must’ve been the ballroom bit,’ Nicole said. ‘And I can imagine people dancing here during the Blitz, refusing to let the war get them down. Mum, this place is incredible.’

She’d never expected to fall in love with a building, especially one which came from a source that made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. But Nicole could see the Electric Palace as it could be if it was renovated—the cinema on the ground floor, with the top floor as a ballroom or maybe a place for local bands to play. Or she could even turn this room into a café-restaurant. A café with an area for doing crafts, perhaps like her mum suggested. Or an ice cream parlour, stocked with local artisan ice cream.

If she just sold the Electric Palace to a developer and collected the money, would the building be razed to the ground? Could all this be lost?

But she really couldn’t let that happen. She wanted to bring the Electric Palace back to life, to make it part of the community again.

‘It’s going to be a lot of work to restore it,’ she said. Not to mention money: it would eat up all her savings and she would probably need a bank loan as well to tide her over until the business was up and running properly.

‘But you’re not afraid of hard work—and this time you’d be working for you,’ Susan pointed out.

‘On the Surrey Quays forum, quite a few people have said how they’d love the place to be restored so we had our own cinema locally,’ Nicole said thoughtfully.

‘So you wouldn’t be doing it on your own,’ Susan said. ‘You already have a potential audience and people who’d be willing to spread the word. Some of them might volunteer to help you with the restoration or running the place—and you can count me in as well. I could even try and get some of my probationers interested. I bet they’d enjoy slapping a bit of paint on the walls.’

‘Supposing I can’t make a go of it? There’s only one screen, maybe the possibility of two if I use the upstairs room,’ Nicole said. ‘Is that enough to draw the customers in and make the place pay?’

‘If anyone can do it, you can,’ Susan said.

‘I have savings,’ Nicole said thoughtfully. ‘If the renovations cost more than what I have, I could get a loan.’

‘I have savings, too. I’d be happy to use them here,’ Susan added.

Nicole shook her head. ‘This should be your heritage, Mum, not mine. And I don’t want you to risk your savings on a business venture that might not make it.’

‘We’ve already had this argument. You didn’t win it earlier and you’re not going to win it now,’ Susan said crisply. ‘The Electric Palace is yours. And it’s your choice whether you want to sell it or whether you want to do something with it.’

Nicole looked at the sad, neglected old building and knew exactly what she was going to do. ‘I’ll work out some figures, to see if it’s viable.’ Though she knew that it wasn’t just about the figures. And if the figures didn’t work, she’d find alternatives until they did work.

‘And if it’s viable?’ Susan asked.

‘I’ll talk to my boss. If he’ll give me a six-month sabbatical, it’d be long enough for me to see if I can make a go of this place.’ Nicole shook her head. ‘I can’t quite believe I just said that. I’ve spent ten years working for the bank and I’ve worked my way up from the bottom.’

‘And you hate it there—it suppresses the real Nicole and it’s turned you into a corporate ghost.’

‘Don’t pull your punches, Mum,’ Nicole said wryly.