‘Fantastic idea,’ he said congenially. Kate shot one more look at Leila but her eyes were fixed elsewhere.
The dinner Quentin and Leila shared had moved them into a different space. A not-strictly-business space. It was a bit too flirty. A bit too much laughter. A bit too much eye contact. A bit too much wine.
And she hadn’t thought about Lucas once that night.
During the two weeks following the grand opening, any time Leila wasn’t working in the shop, she was meeting Quentin. He took her for ice cream and to ride the London Eye. They walked the streets and fed ducks in the park. They ate constantly. And he refused to talk about business.
‘Forget business,’ he said. ‘This is time in our other world, with just us. Anyway, there’s nothing else to do. Once your solicitor sends back the contract we can sign it and Kate’s getting the money organised—all we need to do now is get to know each other better.’
‘What about the ads?’ she said, biting into pink candy floss.
‘They’re under control and I’ll bring them to you when they’re ready. Now, how about a trip to Oxford and a punt on the river?’
‘That sounds a bit romantic.’
‘So let’s be romantic. I’ll punt and you can lie back with a glass of wine and watch my muscles ripple. And when we pass under a bridge at sunset I’ll kiss you.’
And that’s precisely how they shared their first kiss.
Elizabeth was in charge of the shop. It had been two weeks since the launch and the first week had been grand. So grand that Kate had said she felt it was the right time for her and Leila to take a short leave and go and explore new territories.
She had to begin addressing the company’s long-term requirements. The business was going to need contacts with local growers and suppliers of additional ingredients so they could blend on site. It was essential that the tea sold in England tasted as though it belonged here. As much as possible the ingredients should come from local sources. It was their commitment to quality and community responsibility.
‘We can’t do much about the teas themselves,’ Kate had explained. ‘Almost all tea in the world comes from India and China and there’s no point trying to beat that. But herbs, fruits and flowers taste different depending on the country or region in which they’re grown. Lavender oil from France smells different and has different medicinal properties from lavender that comes from England or Bulgaria, for example.’ If she was going to sell tea to the English, then the English had to believe it was worth buying. And selling local produce was a huge drawcard for the growing market of people who wanted to support ethical production of food.
As well as taking care of the food-chain supply, they were going to need to build a database of good and reliable people for transport, design work, sales and food production.
Leila had been sending through marketing plans and draft advertisements for her to look at and provide feedback on, but so far she’d had to do all of this outside of shop hours, as customers had been pouring through the door, babbling about the great review they’d read or even about the tea they’d tasted at their friend’s place the other day.
Luckily, Elizabeth had Victoria to help and so far her sister was proving to be a valuable employee, something that both surprised and delighted her. Right now, Victoria was handing out tasting cups of iced rose, mint and vanilla tea, which had been made entirely of fresh ingredients. The teas made of fresh ingredients always tempted the customers to try to make their own blends from the garden or the dried supplies. Invariably, they ended up buying something pre-prepared from the shelf anyway, but it always inspired them and left them smiling.
Smiling was something Elizabeth now felt she could do more often. She deliberately saved her biggest smiles for the customers. Her face had started to feel heavy and set and she’d begun to fancy that her features were sliding south like a melting marshmallow. When her mother had moved out, the quasi homey feel of the house had gone with her. Her father’s morose shuffling from one room to another was dispiriting in the extreme. She wanted to help him more, but she had enough on her plate with her own grief for herself and her marriage. The shop gave her an outlet to practise feelings of happiness and contentment.
John seemed to have given up trying to contact her, which was both a blessing and yet another barb of pain. She definitely didn’t want to talk to him, but she still struggled to let go of the idea that he was going to fix all this and her old life might magically reappear.
Except, if she was honest, it hadn’t been a happy life. Not really. So why couldn’t she just move on?
She handed a gift box to a customer to fill with pot-pour-tea.
‘Hey,’ Victoria said, after she’d tied a gold ribbon around a parcel, ker-chinged the cash register and sent some customers out the door, ‘what time are you free this evening?’ She pulled out her phone to type yet another text message.
‘I don’t know—maybe around eight after I’ve looked at Leila’s latest notes. Why?’
Victoria shrugged. ‘Just wondering.’ She moved off in her Roman sandals and flowing white baby-doll dress to greet more customers, her antique silver earrings swinging against her neck.
The phone rang beside her.
‘Welcome to The Tea Chest, Elizabeth speaking, how may I help you?’
‘Nice greeting. Makes me want to come and visit.’
‘Kate, how are you going? Where are you?’
‘The Cotswolds. It’s amazing. Like something straight off a movie set. The buildings are mind-blowing, not to mention the farms. I’m in heaven. How’s everything going in the shop?’
‘Couldn’t be better. Sales are great. I’m having a wonderful time. And Victoria’s turning out to be quite the salesgirl,’ she said proudly.
They chatted on for a bit about the shop and Elizabeth wrote down all of the jobs Kate had thought of for them to do while she was on the road, such as watering plants, calling the plant-servicing centre and sending thankyou notes to the Holy Trinity and the designers who’d worked so hard to get everything up and running in time for the opening.
‘Also,’ Kate said, ‘Lady Heavensfield’s been quiet lately. It’s making me nervous. Do you think you could do up a gift basket of something for her?’
‘No problem.’
‘And while you’re at it, let’s send one to Randolph, Manu and Angelique to say thanks for coming to our opening.’
Elizabeth had worked her way through approximately half of Kate’s list of jobs, humming happily, when the bell tinkled above the door. She turned around to greet the next customer.
Then jolted to a standstill.
It wasn’t a customer at all. It was the Japanese man who’d sat next to her on the flight home.
‘Hello.’ He smiled. He was wearing a beige smart casual suit with a pale-green and white shirt underneath and casual loafers that should have been out of place, but somehow it all worked together.
‘H-hello.’
He stepped into the shop and she made a concerted effort to adopt a more graceful pose.
Three things surprised her. First, he walked elegantly, seeming to glide nimbly across the floor, and she had the unexpected thought that he moved like a dancer. Also, he was taller than she remembered, with a small scar over his left eyebrow, just below his loosely swept fringe, that added considerable interest to his face. Last, he didn’t have a Japanese accent at all.
She stood there dumbly until Victoria intervened.
‘Haruka, hi.’ Victoria took hold of his arms and kissed him on the cheek. The action shocked Elizabeth so much she actually did a cartoon double take. She stood in complete silence, looking from one to the other, both of them grinning at her like they expected her to do something.
‘Er . . .’ It was all she could manage. She took Victoria by the arm and dragged her to the other side of the shop, near a large potted orange tree, pulling her out of earshot of two grey-haired women peering at a box of matcha green tea powder through their reading
glasses.
‘Look,’ one of them exclaimed. ‘It says here you can cook with it too and make matcha tea cake.’
‘It would be green,’ the other said, wrinkling her nose.
‘My niece would love this,’ the first decided.
‘What’s going on?’ Elizabeth whispered.
‘It’s Haruka, from the plane,’ Victoria said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for this complete stranger to enter their shop.
Then, shock. He was expected.
‘You did this.’
Victoria shrugged, a wicked smile dancing on her lips.
‘Why?’ Elizabeth moaned.
‘Look, he was really nice. And he really liked you. You might have been too drunk and delirious to realise it, but it was plain as day to me. You should have seen how carefully he adjusted your jacket and zipped up your carry-on bag when he handed you over to me at the arrivals hall. It was really sweet. We exchanged numbers and kept in touch. I was going to tell you but I’ve been waiting till you were in a better space.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m not sure if you are, but I still think you should go out with him.’
Elizabeth was outraged, both at her sister’s Dr Phil psychology and at her gumption. ‘You meddlesome fiend,’ she cursed. ‘You can’t just make me go out with someone I don’t know.’ Besides which, I’m married. She wanted to pinch Victoria’s arm in anger.
‘Give him a chance. I think you’ll find he’s got a lot to offer. And,’ she added, ‘I prefer to think of it as helpful.’
‘Meddlesome.’
‘Helpful.’
‘Meddlesome.’
‘You say potato, I say vodka.’
‘Ahem.’ Haruka cleared his throat. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Fine,’ Elizabeth called over her shoulder. Then she hissed at Victoria, ‘You’ll pay for this.’
She returned to where Haruka was standing, looking a little less confident than he had a few moments ago. He put a tentative hand on the counter, then removed it again.
‘I’m sorry if I’m not wanted here,’ he said uncertainly.
Elizabeth realised now that his accent was actually English. Like hers. Her head spun. Among other things, she was wondering how she could have got this man so wrong in her mind. Her memories of him didn’t account for this intriguing person standing here. Perhaps Victoria was right and she’d been so out of her mind she’d distorted him entirely.
‘Your sister invited me to come and meet you. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I found you so charming when we were on the plane and I was quite affected when Victoria asked if we could keep in touch.’
Elizabeth burned with indignation, remembering all the texting Victoria had been doing since they arrived and trying to calculate how much of it might have been to Haruka. What on earth had she told him? Why did the people closest to her keep going around behind her back?
‘I’ll go,’ he said, pointing to the door. ‘I’ve only come from Hampstead.’ He paused, gazing at her meaningfully. ‘It’s only two tubes. No big deal really.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’ve some business to attend to in Notting Hill, but I’d hoped we’d be able to meet up after work.’
His voice was hopeful, the tilt of his head inviting. And Elizabeth was, at her core, someone who didn’t like to offend people or hurt their feelings and she was beginning to feel quite sorry for the man. What a pretty pickle her sister had created.
‘I enjoy eating,’ he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
When she still said nothing, he accepted her refusal and turned to go, his shoulders drooping in a way that made him look like a sad, rejected puppy. Just as his hand reached out for the doorknob, her heart squeezed back to life. She groaned.
‘Wait,’ she said.
He turned back towards her, his face hopeful.
‘Please don’t be offended. I was just taken by surprise.’ She turned to glare at Victoria before continuing, ‘I’ll meet you at La Sophia in Notting Hill at eight o’clock.’
Fullerton Frat House report: Miraculous revelation—liquid soap dispensers don’t actually refill themselves. I know, right? ;)
Can’t believe how many things you do I never noticed before.
Missing you xx
PS Also missing your hands. Could you take a picture of them and send it to me?
Kate held the bunch of lavender cuttings to her nose and inhaled. The smile across her face was instant. She rubbed the stems with her thumb and forefinger. There really was a good reason why lavender was so popular. It was the Swiss Army knife of plants. The essential oil held in those leaves and stems was beneficial for almost any condition of the body, mind or soul.
She sat down on the grass in between the long rows of bushes on this charming farm and watched the fat, furry yellow and black bumblebees doing their work among the flowers. She squinted into the sunshine and raised her face to the sky, taking a moment just to be.
They’d had such a hectic start to the day, navigating the hire car west from London along the M4 to reach a herb farm outside Reading. The owner of the farm, Grace Myrtle, was clearly buzzed to have Kate and Leila visit, and Kate liked her instantly. She proudly showed them through the greenhouses and they walked the hills of mature herb bushes. Like most farmers, Grace needed to make money from many avenues and had converted an old stone barn into a tea and gift shop. She was thrilled to supply The Tea Chest with her organic produce.
‘I’m looking for the usual supplies of mint and chamomile,’ Kate had explained to Grace’s beaming round face, ‘but I’m also interested in sourcing smaller quantities of less common herbs for tea, such as basil and calendula.’
Grace clasped her roughened hands together. ‘No problem at all.’ She’d pointed to a distant hill. ‘We’ve actually just begun ploughing that section for new chamomile and I’ve a small section of basil closer to the lake.’
‘Basil?’ Leila said, screwing up her nose at Kate.
‘Basil tea goes really well with tomato and cottage cheese on crackers. You’d be surprised,’ Kate said.
‘I’m sure I would,’ Leila responded, sounding unconvinced.
‘And basil has such wonderful health benefits for your heart, eyes, hair and skin.’
‘Mmm. You wouldn’t sell me on that,’ Leila said.
‘Okay, how about the fact that you can use the tea as a soup or broth and add your leftover meat and vegetables to it for dinner the next night?’
Leila shook her head. ‘Nope. This isn’t budget week for families, Kate. We’re the haute couture of tea.’
Leila was right. She’d been married to Mark for too long and was confusing his passion, medicinal knowledge and healing business with her own. This was precisely what Mark and Judy had warned her about. She was an artist, with creative ideas and dreams, but sometimes lacking clear business direction.
Now, she lay down on the grass between the lavender rows at this farm in the Cotswolds, the visit to Grace at the Reading herb farm seeming an age ago, and closed her eyes to contemplate her expanding business some more. The droning of the bees around her, combined with the beautiful sunshine and heavenly aromas, lulled her into a meditative state.
It might not be fashionable, but she was passionate about the health benefits of tea. It was something she tried to put into every cup, even if it was hidden beneath generic statements about the tea being uplifting or soothing. She remembered Simone wrinkling her nose at ‘medicinal’ teas, but Simone had never understood that medicinal could be beautiful as well. All her tea had health benefits already; it was just that it was an aspect of tea sales they played down in favour of the enjoyment and ceremony of tea-drinking. Perhaps, down the track, she could launch a secondary label of teas—The Health Chest, perhaps—that produced high-end, pleasant-tasting remedy teas. Maybe it was even something she and Mark could do—a joint project that would see them working together rather than separated by time and space.
Right now, Mark was at home on his own and worry
ing about their finances. She wanted to ask him about it but since he hadn’t raised it with her he’d obviously decided to be chivalrous and shoulder the burden for them both. It was reasonable he had doubts. But it still hurt.
The bees were soothing. She just needed to focus on the bees.
She jumped to attention when she heard her name and sat up, blinking into the light.
Leila was standing above her, grinning. ‘Drift off, did we?’
‘Huh?’ Kate rubbed her eyes. ‘Oh. I guess so. What time is it?’
‘Three o’clock. I’m starving. We haven’t even had lunch. You hungry?’
‘Yes, actually.’ Kate hauled herself off the soft grass with a granny groan that would put her actual granny to shame, if she were still alive.
They ambled to the limestone cottage that served as the tea and gift shop, similar to the one on Grace’s farm. They ordered sandwiches and a pot of mint tea as well as coffees, and when they’d recovered their energy they set about purchasing gifts for their family and friends back home. Lavender soaps, wood polish, candles, boiled sweets and ice-cream syrup all made their way to the cash register.
‘My mum will love this lavender wood polish,’ Leila said, sniffing the solid white wax in the silver tin.
‘I’d buy it with the best of intentions but I know I’d never get around to using it,’ Kate said.
‘Me neither. But Mum’s one of those super-organised and tidy people. You know, the kind who say there’s a place for everything and everything in its place.’
‘That must have been fun to grow up with,’ Kate said. She was trying to be light, but it clearly struck a nerve in Leila, who raised her eyebrows and twitched her nose.
‘Sorry,’ Kate said.
‘It’s fine,’ Leila smiled, putting the polish away in her bag.
They hadn’t met with the owners of the farm yet. They had an appointment booked for the next day, but Kate had explained she wanted to pop in like a normal visitor and get a feel for the place first. Her instincts would tell her if the plants here and the family who ran this farm were the right ones for her tea. If the plants were ‘happy plants’, treated with respect and love, then they’d make good tea. From what she’d seen so far, they were perfect.
The Tea Chest Page 17
