The Tea Chest

by Josephine Moon

  Elizabeth caught herself holding her breath. It was fascinating getting to know her kid sister as a fully fledged adult.

  Victoria shrugged. ‘Nothing that’s ever been serious.’

  ‘That seems impossible,’ Kate said. ‘You’re sweet, attractive and easy to get on with. And you have fantastic attention to detail too,’ she said, gesturing to the stencil pattern on the ceiling.

  It did look great. Elizabeth felt a pang of disappointment in herself. She should have said all those things about Victoria. She should be nicer to her.

  Her sister waved a hand in the air, dismissing Kate’s praise.

  ‘It’s true,’ Elizabeth said. ‘You have a lot to offer someone.’

  Victoria’s eyes locked onto hers and Elizabeth realised just how much Victoria still wanted her big sister’s approval. She might not be pestering her to borrow her makeup or to tag along to Elizabeth’s friends’ houses, but inside, she was still the little girl who looked up to her. Elizabeth made a mental note to remember that.

  One day to go.

  Kate faced Leila, absorbing the news Leila had just tentatively delivered while handing her the final contract to sign.

  Quentin was asking for a commitment of a quarter of a million pounds towards an advertising campaign. It was a sign of faith, of them meeting Quentin halfway while he put money into plant materials—blending machines, barrels, stills, supplies: anything that could be sold off later if he needed to get his money back. He was putting the weight of the risk largely onto them while still giving them a leg up.

  It was fair, really, but it was almost more than Kate’s exhausted mind and body could take. The Tea Chest was opening tomorrow.

  She wiped her plaster-splashed hand across her face and turned to face the corner of the tiled wall she’d been working on, taking deep breaths. Leila huddled in close and continued speaking in hushed tones while the rest of the room went quiet, until Elizabeth started an inane conversation with Victoria about the latest song she’d heard. Then she turned up the radio to give Kate some sense of privacy and they began noisily moving plants around.

  ‘Kate,’ Leila said soothingly, ‘I understand, truly.’

  ‘Do you? Is it your finances, reputation and family on the line? Is it your company?’

  Leila winced. ‘No.’

  ‘Because this is it for me. My last chance. If this all turns to poo, I . . . I don’t know what I’ll do.’ She wiped at her dirty face. ‘How could this happen so close to the opening? I’ve got no room to move now.’

  ‘Well, to be fair, you said you’d get back to me about meeting Quentin but you didn’t.’

  Kate looked away. It was true. She’d got so caught up in the design that she’d pushed it to the back of her mind.

  ‘It’s just how it’s unfolded,’ Leila said. ‘I did my best, Kate, but this juggernaut started back in Brisbane when you took control of a company in crisis.’ She finished her lecture sternly, though her bottom lip quivered slightly.

  Kate had never felt more homesick than she did in that moment. She would have traded the whole store, the whole company, for one hour in Mark’s arms and some little-man time with her boys.

  She needed to pull herself together or she wouldn’t make it through the next day.

  As much as she wanted to yell at Leila, this was what it meant to lead a company. This was what she’d signed up for. And this was why she’d hired Leila: to help make bold choices and see business weaknesses and advantages. She’d hired her on instinct. She had to trust that intuition.

  But she’d made a mistake in not meeting Quentin. She wouldn’t make a mistake like that again.

  Fullerton Frat House report: We love you. You’ll be the newest celebrities of London!!!!! xxxxx

  PS James says you’re cleverer than Bob the Builder.

  Kate was more nervous than she’d been before the birth of either of her children. With them, it had been overwhelming and somewhat scary, but she’d also held a deep belief that she could do it. That some primal force of nature would make it happen. But with this there was no such force guaranteeing a result.

  It had been all hands on deck until three-thirty in the morning to pull off this ambitious task in time for the grand opening, followed by express manicures from Victoria to tidy up their labourers’ hands.

  And, of course, there was Leila’s bombshell to contend with.

  Now, Kate had had about an hour’s sleep.

  She’d washed her hair and taken time to dress. She needed to look the part. All of their ‘uniforms’ had to fit the theme of the shop.

  She’d bought herself a vintage cream princess dress. It had fine amber ribbons for shoulder straps that tied in delicate bows at the top of the bodice. The dress was embroidered all over. It had a full layered tulle skirt and a finely boned bodice to support her where she needed it. It was glamorous and very ‘English garden tea party’. She’d matched it with cream Mary Jane pumps with a dangerously high heel and bows across the ankles. Her hair was scooped back with a floral hairband.

  ‘You look amazing,’ Leila had said as they left the house.

  ‘You too.’

  Leila was in a vintage 1950s pink cocktail dress—a young style Kate knew she was well past being able to pull off. It was strapless, showing off Leila’s gym-toned shoulders, and had a lace-covered bodice and a layered pleated mesh and lace skirt.

  ‘That colour really suits you,’ Kate said. ‘You’ve got a real glow about you that’s totally unfair given how little sleep you’ve had.’

  Leila’s cheeks turned the colour of her dress.

  Kate took the moment before the clock struck nine-thirty to apply some more deodorant. She was sweating with anxiety and didn’t want to ruin her beautiful dress. Around the shop, Elizabeth and Victoria were also applying finishing touches, both also dressed in exquisite floral, lacy vintage pieces. Kate breathed deeply and mentally forced herself to drink in her surrounds—her vision come to life.

  The shop had been designed as an exquisite English cottage garden. They had left bare as much of the stonework as possible and exposed beams, capturing the feel of an old English world. Structurally, the biggest renovation had been the installation of a row of skylights from one end of the shop to the other in the front half of the store—the structural feature that made Kate’s whole creation possible. The skylights flooded the interior with natural light and they’d been able to create an indoor garden. Backup lighting that would illuminate the room on dark days had been designed and installed. Strategically placed UV lighting would assist the plants as necessary, particularly those towards the back of the store, where the shade-lovers grew. White fairy lights adorned the walls and ran around vertical wooden beams, to add to the sense of enchantment.

  White picket-fence palings had been glued to the walls in among the flower beds and plants. A huge water feature dominated the centre of the room, with two white entwined doves topping the piece. A small wooden wheelbarrow with rusted metal wheels sat overflowing with bright purple, pink, white and yellow petunias. Scooped wooden gates with iron hinges acted as shelves and partitions. Two sets of wrought-iron round tables and chairs sat in corners for customers to rest on, as did a wrought-iron garden bench, all surrounded by pansies, snapdragons and irises. Climbing vines snaked their way along beams and shelves. Huge pots contained orange and lemon trees. The room glowed.

  Nestled within the colour and greenery lay shelves, barrels and garden pieces that brimmed with the teas themselves.

  But the pièce de résistance was the part that was closest to Kate’s heart. It was a series of window boxes growing plants that served as an interactive tea-making centre. They could be seen through the windows from the footpath and would entice people in off the streets. Here, customers could pick their own ingredients, including mint, lavender, rose petals, dandelion petals and lemongrass, and The Tea Chest staff would make them their own tea design right there in the store, then they could sit in one of the welcoming spots
to sip it. There were also vintage china pots with dried ingredients they could choose from. It was the pot-pour-tea section.

  Looking around the room, Kate’s chest swelled with satisfaction.

  ‘It’s time,’ Elizabeth announced, taking Kate’s hands. ‘You ready?’

  The media releases had done their work and people from several newspapers, an online news company and even a radio station turned up for the grand opening. The four gorgeous women were photographed in their frocks and some of the photos, shown to Kate on the viewing screen of their digital cameras, were so beautiful she couldn’t believe it was her or her shop. They looked like they belonged in a glossy magazine. Many of the journalists picked up on the idea that the tea shop had embraced Kate Middleton’s love of English gardens that was demonstrated when she brought the outdoors indoors to Westminster Abbey for her wedding and transformation to the Duchess of Cambridge.

  The bell above the door didn’t stop ringing all day with customers. Randolph and Manu came in from the Roulette deli next door and were effusive in their praise. Randolph stood with his thumbs hooked under the lapels of his purple velvet smoking jacket, which he wore to the store each day, and turned his face to the skylights, clucking with appreciation.

  ‘Brilliance,’ he gushed. ‘Absolute brilliance. You’ve brought the outdoors inside. How very Australian of you.’ He took a piece of icing-sugar-dusted crystallised ginger from a silver bowl and popped it into his mouth, closing his eyes and swooning in appreciation.

  ‘Oh,’ Kate said, looking up. ‘I was going for the look of an English garden.’

  ‘And you’ve got it, Princess,’ Manu agreed. ‘You’ll be the talk of the town in no time.’

  ‘You must come see us soon,’ Randolph went on, sucking his cheeks as he finished his ginger. ‘We have a new shipment of gourmet treats from Saudi Arabia arriving in the next week. Some would complement your store wonderfully.’

  Kate promised she’d be over just as soon as she could.

  Angelique from Elegance also came in. Her long carrot-orange hair was striking as it framed her lily-white face above her bright yellow dress. She made polite small talk and smiled congenially, but Kate could tell she turned up her nose at The Tea Chest’s collection of teapots, ceramics and antiques. They were a far cry from her fine bone china wares.

  It irritated Kate for a moment, this swift judgement of her store. After all, shouldn’t Angelique be grateful for a neighbour who hosted similar products but not ones that were exactly the same?

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ Kate offered.

  ‘Oh, thank you, but I can’t stay. I have an appointment with a blue-ribbon customer in five minutes.’ She checked her watch, which looked as though it was made entirely of diamonds. ‘I just wanted to come in and wish you well,’ she said, though Kate couldn’t tell how much sincerity there was in the statement.

  Angelique glided out the front door.

  ‘Somehow, I don’t think we’ll be having her over for jelly shots after work,’ Victoria giggled.

  Lady Heavensfield did not make an appearance, though she did her best to make the most of the opening-day traffic as it came past her entrance, with enticing smells of food wafting out onto the footpath and neatly written chalkboards encouraging serious food lovers her way.

  The old-fashioned cash register ker-chinged satisfyingly throughout the day with every purchase of tea, antique teapots, books and tea canisters. Kate was run off her high-heeled feet by midday, but she sent Victoria out for salad rolls and steak burgers from Picasso, on the other side of their neighbour, Roulette, and they just kept moving.

  To her delight, Mark sent a huge bouquet of English roses from him and the boys to wish her well on her big day. We’re so proud of you, the note said and for a moment tears threatened. Instead, Kate buried her nose in the red and white blooms and inhaled their beautiful aroma.

  She expected some sort of message from Judy, some kind of token gesture wishing them well. After all, she still owned half the company—it was in her interest to hope for the best. But all was silent from her end.

  Kate had little time to dwell on it, however, as the steady stream of customers kept her hopping. Even Robert Drizzle from the council came back to visit and did indeed bring his wife with him to collect her free samples. She was a small, mousey woman but exceptionally knowledgeable about tea and Kate spent a good twenty minutes indulging her passion.

  ‘Green and white teas have the highest levels of antioxidants,’ Kate told her. ‘They’ve had little oxidation and are uncured as opposed to oolongs and blacks, which are oxidised before curing.’

  ‘Are there any artificial flavourings?’ Mrs Drizzle said, squinting at Kate in a manner that suggested she’d forgotten her glasses.

  ‘Absolutely not. The flavours come from flowers, herbs, spices or smoking. Sometimes essential oils too. And they’re mixed in metal drums or glass so they don’t absorb any flavours they shouldn’t. The trick is to get all the blends to taste the same as the last so that when you buy your favourite you know you’re getting what you like.’

  It was a valuable conversation that landed Kate a £150 sale.

  Robert Drizzle smiled and waved as he shepherded his wife out the door and Kate knew she’d just made a lifelong customer.

  Then she went to check on Elizabeth, who was weaving her way through the throng of people crowded in the shop. She’d been making tea for hours.

  ‘I’m handing it out faster than I can make it,’ she said.

  ‘Here,’ Kate said, taking a tray of freshly brewed Turkish delight tea in cups. ‘Let me help.’

  Over at the cash register, Leila was ringing up a sale for a well-dressed grey-haired gentleman (there was really no other word for him). He looked as though he’d started his Christmas shopping early. Leila was wrapping sets of colourful fleur-de-lis glasses and bottles for iced tea, packets of tea-infused truffles, embroidered vintage serviettes for elegant tea parties, DIY cotton drawstring bags for those inclined to make their own tea blends, pink heart-shaped sugar cubes, cotton bath bags for tea-infused bath times, as well as everyday products such as infusers and boxed teacups.

  Kate rushed over to introduce herself and throw in some fudge and honeycomb drops to thank him and encourage him to come back. And into everyone’s bag went a flyer advertising the upcoming tea tasting and tea workshops—Kate’s personal passion.

  At the end of the day, the four women closed the door and collapsed onto chairs and benches with groans and whimpers as their high heels came off and bruised toes were rubbed.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired,’ Elizabeth groaned. Her hair had escaped its pins during the day and hung loosely around her shoulders.

  Victoria snapped a photo of her on her phone.

  ‘Are you mad?’ Elizabeth grumbled.

  ‘You look beautifully dishevelled,’ Victoria said, and it was such a sentimental thing for her to say that no one said anything in response.

  ‘Is there some kind of alcoholic tea?’ Leila said eventually, stretching her arms above her head. ‘We need to celebrate.’

  ‘Peach tea and peach schnapps is a favourite of many of my clients back home,’ Kate mused, staring at the floor, her eyes too heavy even to move.

  ‘Forget that,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Champagne all the way, I say.’

  And so they dragged their brutally punished bodies out the door, swinging their shoes in their hands, and made their way down the street towards the Chelsea Potter for champagne cocktails to celebrate their incredibly successful day.

  16

  Quentin came to visit the shop and meet Kate the day after the launch.

  ‘Welcome, Quentin. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to meet you sooner, but I’m happy you’re here now.’

  ‘Pleasure to meet you,’ he said, extending his hand and giving her a generous smile.

  Kate looked up into his face and assessed it for informatio
n, some sign she was doing the right thing. His expression was open and calm. He was young, though. Probably not much younger than her, but younger than she’d expect an investor of his sort to be. She always imagined investors to be older, semi-retired or people whose experience had been gained from a lifetime of business acquisitions.

  ‘The place looks fantastic,’ he said, rubbing his chin and striding down the aisles, nodding and smiling, absorbing it in big, general notes rather than with any attention to fussy details.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, settling into the feeling of pride that swept over her. The shop was busy again today, customers arriving the moment she’d opened the doors. The Tea Chest team had had no time to rest or regain their strength but just had to keep going.

  Kate introduced him to Elizabeth, who was rearranging a display so it sat better in a walkway, and to Victoria, who was in the galley, ironing tablecloths.

  ‘And Leila you know, of course,’ Kate said, ending the meet-and-greet at the counter, where Leila was just finishing off wrapping a parcel for a customer.

  ‘Hi again,’ she said, flicking him a glance before returning to her raffia.

  ‘Leila’s been really helpful,’ Quentin said. ‘Her work’s been impressive. I feel like I know The Tea Chest well.’

  Two things happened to Kate at once. First, she felt a small bristle at his assumption that he could possibly know her company having only looked at it on paper and never before now experienced its spirit and tactile nature. And second, she sensed a vibe fizzing in the space between Quentin and Leila. She studied Leila but the other woman was intent on swiping the credit card through the machine.

  ‘Well, that’s wonderful,’ she said, directing her eyes back to Quentin.

  ‘Thank you, Kate, for giving me the opportunity to be part of such an exciting new company.’

  ‘Thank you for your interest,’ she said. ‘Let’s step next door to Roulette and go through the paperwork together before we send it off to the solicitor.’