The Vintage Teacup Club

by Vanessa Greene

‘Yes,’ Pete said, ‘a smaller—’

  ‘You really should sell the Clio and get a bike,’ Sophie interrupted them. Alison nodded and noted it down, knowing that this time at least, her daughter was right.

  Sophie put down the slice of carrot cake she was eating and said, ‘I’ve switched to another tariff on my mobile, so my calls are all included. I don’t use the land-line at all anymore.’ She hesitated, trying to remember something else. ‘Oh, and Matt says if we got a different printer for your studio, Mum, you’d spend loads less on print cartridges.’

  OK, Alison thought. So Matt didn’t sound all bad. ‘Right, sure, I’ll look into that,’ she said.

  ‘Pete, what about you?’ she asked her husband.

  ‘I tried a different supermarket last week, and bought from the cheapo range. I didn’t even notice the difference, taste-wise, did you?’ The girls shook their heads no. ‘And – get this – our vegetable patch has had its first crop!’ Pete’s brown eyes were shiny with excitement that transformed his face. ‘We’ll be eating rocket and courgettes and whatever else it was I planted there,’ he said, furrowing his brow. ‘It was looking very green when I last looked anyway.’

  Alison smiled at her husband. A courgette off the grocery bill might not make the world of difference, but the big change was the light that was starting to come back into Pete’s eyes.

  ‘OK, guys, nice work,’ Alison said. ‘Right, any other business?’

  ‘Yes,’ Holly said proudly. ‘I have something.’ Alison and Pete exchanged looks. This was news to them both. ‘I’m going to be an artist. And a writer. Like Jenny. She’s helping me with my drawings.’

  Alison and Pete smiled – Alison had wondered what those two had been talking about when Jenny had popped around.

  ‘Nice one, Hol,’ Sophie said. ‘You can look after Mum and Dad in their old age then.’

  ‘Hey, we’re not there yet,’ Alison protested. ‘And in the meantime I have something to add,’ Alison said. In a rare moment all the eyes in the room were fixed on her. ‘It’s not to do with money, but while I’ve got all three of you tearaways in one place I wanted to tell you something.’

  ‘What is it, Mum?’ Sophie asked, her eyes wide.

  ‘Remember when Janet from next door had a fit about George going in their garden?’

  ‘Oh God, yes,’ Pete said, putting his head in his hands. ‘I can’t believe you left me to calm her down, that woman’s a nightmare.’ Holly sniggered.

  ‘The thing is,’ Alison continued. ‘She may have, sort of, had a point.’ Alison nodded over at George and Holly furrowed her brow, confused. ‘Their spaniel Cassie is pregnant,’ Alison said. ‘And as they never let her out when she’s on heat, Janet’s pretty sure there are some little Wolfaniels on the way.’

  ‘Woah!’ Holly leapt up from her chair. ‘Puppies! Cool. Can we keep them?’

  ‘Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. I know it would be fun, but we really can’t keep any of the pups ourselves – dogs are expensive and it just wouldn’t make sense right now. Jamie wants one though, and Janet is going to keep one to give Cassie some company. Jenny and Dan are thinking about it too – Jenny thinks her Dad would be happy to care for one until they get a place with a garden,’ Alison said. ‘So they’d be close by and we could see them grow up.’

  ‘Imagine the cuteness,’ Sophie said, and Alison saw a flash of the little girl her teenage daughter used to be. ‘As tall as George but with floppy spaniel ears.’ She smiled, giving George’s fur a stroke.

  ‘OK,’ Alison said. ‘I think that is everything. So you can scoot, but we’ll have another house meeting in a couple of weeks to see how everyone is getting on.’

  ‘Right, cool,’ Holly said. Her and Sophie’s chairs scraped as they pulled away from the table and darted upstairs again.

  ‘Alison,’ Pete said, touching his wife’s shoulder gently once the girls had left the room. ‘Can we chat for a minute?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, picking up a few of the mugs they’d been drinking from and taking them over to the sink. ‘There’s a bit of washing up to do, but why don’t you come and talk to me while I do it?’

  ‘Actually, I was hoping we could talk properly. In private, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, sure. Yes. Right,’ Alison undid the apron she was still wearing and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. ‘Shall we go into the den?’

  Pete nodded and they walked over there together. Once inside Alison shut the door after them and they sat down on the well-loved red sofa.

  ‘What is it, Pete?’

  ‘I know we’re doing all this as a family,’ Pete started, running a hand through his hair. ‘And the girls are doing a good job, aren’t they?’ Alison nodded and saw Pete take a deep breath before he spoke. ‘But I know that what we need, really, so that our home is secure longterm and you can expand your business, is for me to be back in work.’

  ‘Oh Pete …’ Alison said, moving towards him and putting her hand on his leg. ‘I don’t want you to feel under pressure – you know I’m sorry about everything I said the other day. The changes we’re making are meant to make things easier.’

  ‘It’s not you, Ali,’ Pete said. ‘I can see for myself what we need.’ He reached out and touched her hair, smoothing a loose strand back behind her ear. ‘I love you. And the girls. Our family is what matters. But we both know we need money too. I want to work, but the truth is, I feel stuck,’ Pete said. ‘You know how it’s been, most of the jobs advertised aren’t at my level of experience,’ Pete explained, ‘and the interviews I have had haven’t gone brilliantly. But Harry – you know we got laid off at the same time – he got a job this week, and it’s a top role. He’d been having trouble too and in the end he went to see someone, a careers consultant.’

  Pete looked at Alison, trying to gauge her response.

  ‘She helped him with his CV, interview technique, that kind of thing. I never thought I’d say this, but if I’m honest I am a bit rusty with all that too, and I wonder if it’s holding me back. It’s not cheap, but I wonder if it would be worth going to do the same.’

  ‘Why not,’ Alison said, mulling the idea over, ‘give it a try.’ Pete looked relieved. ‘The money Clive’s lent us will cover the mortgage and bills for two months, and I have some payments due in next week that would give us a bit extra. When that money comes through, I think this would be a good use of some of it.’

  ‘OK,’ Pete said. ‘I’ll set up an appointment.’

  Pete hesitated for a moment.

  ‘Ali.’ She looked at him and he took her hand in his. She remembered that misty December night long ago when they’d curled up under blankets in their tiny flat with a bottle of wine and a stash of mince pies, and he’d asked her to marry him. She thought back on all the adventures and laughter they’d shared since then.

  ‘Ali,’ Pete said again, ‘I’m going to make this work. I want our family to be strong, like it used to be.’

  Alison felt a lump in her throat. She wanted more than anything to see the man she’d married, energetic, confident and fiercely funny, come back.

  ‘It will be, Pete,’ Alison said, touching his cheek, and starting to believe it. ‘It will be.’

  Chapter 26

  Maggie

  ‘Do you want a coffee, Dylan?’ Maggie asked, doing up her lace bra. When he sleepily stirred he tried to haul her back into bed.

  ‘I can’t,’ she laughed, slapping his hands away, ‘the shop won’t open itself.’ She’d missed him when he was away in Amsterdam, but it had been a lot easier to get to work on time. ‘And haven’t you got a shoot today in any case?’ She was sitting down on the edge of the bed now, stroking his hair gently.

  ‘I have, yes.’ There was a gruffness to his voice, he’d stayed out late after the shoot last night. The art director, Sam, was a good friend from the US, Dylan had called to say, and they’d been catching up over a whisky or three. ‘We decided last night to shift it back to a ten o’clock start.’ Magg
ie raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s in everybody’s best interests,’ he said with a smile.

  He raised himself up slightly, so that he could see out the window, the glimpse of his bare chest tempting Maggie back under the covers. ‘And look, Maggie, it’s a horrible murky grey start to the day anyway.’

  He’d hung the framed photograph of his studio just next to her own window; the sun in Brooklyn shone as brightly as ever.

  ‘OK darling,’ Maggie said, doing up her slate grey and lilac flowered shirt. ‘I’ll see you this evening, but a little later than usual. I’ll have to pop out after closing, it’s to do with the Darlington Hall wedding again. Where are you filming today anyway?’

  ‘Out in the cornfields,’ Dylan said. He didn’t sound exactly perky yet, but was getting a bit closer to it. ‘So we definitely need the sun out. English weather, Christ … sometimes you spend half the day waiting for just an hour or two when you can take some decent shots.’

  He buried his face back into the pillow, but was still alert enough to tap her on the bum when she bent over to pick up her shoes. ‘Hey!’ she protested, then gave him a last kiss goodbye before slipping downstairs and out of the front door.

  Trade at the shop was brisk. Anna had been busy organising deliveries while Maggie was attending to the customers who came into the shop. The day was still grey, and splashes of sulky drizzle had started up when her mobile rang: LUCY M flashed up on the screen. Maggie caught Anna’s eye, pointed to the phone and ducked into the back room to answer the call.

  ‘Hi, Lucy,’ Maggie said, her tone calm and serious. She’d already decided to forget all about the necklace she’d seen in the cab of Owen’s car. She had a job she was being paid to do, and what Owen and Lucy got up to was really none of her business.

  ‘Maggie!’ Lucy gushed. ‘I absolutely adore the designs for the garden. Jack showed me what you and Owen have come up with and the concepts are fantastic.’

  This was better than she could have hoped for. When she’d seen Lucy’s name on the display she’d automatically assumed she’d done something wrong, fallen short of Lucy’s sky-high expectations, so her enthusiasm was a welcome surprise.

  ‘Daddy likes the ideas too and we both want you to get going on them right away.’

  ‘Lucy, that’s great,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m so pleased.’

  Maggie popped her head out of the door to check Anna wasn’t overwhelmed with customers. She was currently dealing with one of Charlesworth’s more attractive young men, a guy who worked in the boutique next door, and she looked happy enough to be left to it.

  ‘Hi, Lucy – sorry, yes, you were saying.’

  ‘Yes, Daddy’s chuffed, thinks his friends are going to find it all a real hoot. But here’s the big thing, Maggie.’

  Maggie waited.

  ‘I called It Girl magazine with the plans and they adore the idea, they’re after an exclusive in fact! They adore the whole rabbit-hole thingumajig. Maggie this is just what I’ve been hoping for. It could really help to move things forward with my modelling. And, it could mean great things for Bluebelle du Jour, too.’

  Maggie’s heart leapt. This really did sound like good news. At the moment it felt like everything in her life was finally starting to slot into place.

  ‘Lucy, that’s terrific. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll call Owen now and see about getting the plans finalised and the quotes done as soon as possible, so that we can give It Girl a heads up on the details in plenty of time.’

  ‘Brilliant, Maggie,’ Lucy said. ‘That’s just what I hoped you’d say. I knew I could count on you.’

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur of telephone orders, flower arranging and payments and even with Anna’s help it was midday before Maggie had a quiet five minutes to call Owen.

  She went out the back and scrolled to his number.

  ‘Hi, Owen,’ she said, as he picked up.

  ‘Maggie, hi. What’s up, stranded again?’

  ‘Not this time. Car needed a new fan belt, but it’s as good as new now. I’m actually calling because I’ve just had some excellent news from Lucy. I’m coming around to your workshop later today anyway, like we’d planned – but it means we’ll have a bit more to cover while I’m there.’

  ‘What is it? You sound like you’ve won the lottery or something.’ Owen was as cool as ever. But that’s because he doesn’t know yet, Maggie thought. Once he realised what this coverage could do for his landscaping business he’d be every bit as excited as she was; and hopefully it would smooth the way for better relations.

  ‘I’ll explain when I get to yours,’ Maggie said, glancing at her diary, ‘but I think we’ll need a bit longer than we first thought. Is it OK if I come around a bit earlier, say two o’clock?’

  ‘I’m out on a job in Grayville today, and I get back at half past. That OK?’

  ‘Great. See you then.’ When they’d said goodbye Maggie hung up and with a spring in her step returned to the shop floor.

  ‘You look happy,’ Anna said. ‘What’s going on?’ Maggie was dying to tell her, to tell someone, but she didn’t want to tempt fate. She’d have the opportunity to talk it through with Owen, and then, when they had proper confirmation from the magazine, she’d be able to share the good news.

  ‘Anna, are you still OK to mind the shop this afternoon? I know it’s a bit hectic, but you seem to have everything under control.’

  ‘That’s fine, Maggie, no problem at all,’ Anna said, her usual upbeat self. ‘You know what, it’s getting easier – with the practice I mean.’

  ‘Good,’ Maggie replied. ‘I’ve been hearing great things about you from the customers. In fact I reckon you deserve a bonus for everything you’ve done this past month. A contribution to your car fund, maybe?’

  ‘Yay!’ Anna said, glowing. She had been saving for a second-hand car since she’d passed her test at the start of the year. Then she narrowed her eyes. ‘Unless you’ve got ulterior motives – are you planning on making me Bluebelle’s newest delivery girl?’

  ‘Aha! I wasn’t, but there’s an idea …’ Maggie said, laughing.

  The drive to Owen’s workshop took Maggie out of town, through trees thick with leaves that met at the top and formed a tunnel of green. She was driving with the top down, a spotted blue and white headscarf keeping her hair more or less in place. The sun had finally come out, shafts of light forcing their way through the foliage, and Maggie wondered how Dylan’s shoot was turning out – the conditions should be just right for taking photos now.

  She reached Owen’s address after twenty minutes on the road, a group of converted stables around a big cobbled courtyard. Maggie parked up next to his truck, and gathering her things, walked towards number three, in the far corner. As she approached the door she peeked in through the windows of the surrounding workshops – a carpenter was hard at work in one and the others looked like artists’ studios. Next door to Owen’s was a room filled with pieces of metal that glinted in the sunlight – as Maggie got closer she saw hand-crafted jewellery laid out inside.

  A couple of yards away, Owen’s wooden front door was half-open. When she got there she pushed against it and stepped inside.

  ‘Hello?’ she called out.

  Owen was next to the sink, stacking some tools. Hearing her voice, he turned around, ‘Hi Maggie,’ he said, almost as if they were friends.

  He looked different in his own setting. His clothes fit the scene, rather than looking out of place and scruffy like they had at the hall. He seemed more relaxed. Half of the workshop space was filled with garden implements and plants; the other half was a makeshift office, with a computer and a pinboard covered with plans and images. Owen came over to greet her, shaking her hand hello. It was formal, and awkward, but it would have to do.

  ‘Sorry—’ he said, looking down and seeming to notice his muddy hands for the first time as he pulled them back. ‘I haven’t had a chance to wash them yet. Why don’t you go through out the back and I’ll bring us b
oth a cuppa.’

  He walked ahead of her and opened the glass-paned wooden door on the opposite side of the room. Maggie looked out into a beautiful walled garden – wisteria lined the back wall and jasmine and honeysuckle climbed to their left. Birds flocked to a little bird table by the door. There was a bench made from driftwood and Owen motioned for her to sit there.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he said.

  She sat down and took in the sights and smells of his garden; the jasmine climbing up the pale brick gave out a scent that brought back childhood summers. There was a sculpture in the corner on a plinth too; simple, but pleasing, smooth and white with a hole through the middle. Maggie took her satchel off and put it down beside her, getting the folder out ready to take the notes. She heard the taps running inside as Owen washed his hands and put the kettle on to boil.

  He reappeared a couple of minutes later with a tray of tea and a couple of biscuits. He put them down on the driftwood table.

  ‘This is a little oasis, isn’t it?’ Maggie said.

  ‘Thank you. I like it out here. It’s calm and quiet.’

  Maggie nodded, smiling. Since she’d decided to forget about the Lucy thing, being civil had started coming more easily.

  ‘Where is your sculpture from? It looks like a Barbara Hepworth,’ Maggie said; the bold Cornish sculptor had always been one of her favourites. She turned to Owen and saw that his gaze was on her, not the sculpture.

  ‘It’s a copy,’ he said, with a smile. ‘My grandfather used to live down in Carbis Bay in Cornwall near her during the war. He admired her sculptures and modelled some of his own on hers. When he died he left this one to me.’

  ‘Copy or not, it’s beautiful,’ Maggie responded. ‘All I got when my granddad died was a stuffed squirrel and a carriage clock,’ she laughed. His eyes were still on hers, steady, and she realised her laugh had come out sounding nervous.

  ‘So what’s with the hurry today?’ Owen asked. ‘I mean, I know you wanted to see the tunnel model, and we can look at that in a minute – but on the phone it sounded like there was something else you wanted to talk about?’ Owen pulled up a wooden chair to sit opposite her.