The Cosy Christmas Teashop

by Caroline Roberts

  ‘It’s just delicious, Sarah. Really good,’ Joe added, pouring a little more custard over.

  Ellie’s mum seemed to glow a little, and a smile spread over her face.

  Ellie felt a warm glow too. She’d had a really lovely day with her mum. She couldn’t remember the last time when it had been just the two of them together like that. For years, probably since Ellie had been a teenager, there had been a slight distance. It was hard to pin it down, she knew she was loved, and that her mum would be there for her no matter what, perhaps it was just that they were different personalities. But something had shifted between them today; Ellie felt a little bit closer.

  They finished the meal, and had a quick cup of tea. It was coming up to seven thirty.

  ‘Well, I suppose I’d better be getting on my way. Never did like driving in the dark much,’ Sarah said.

  ‘It’ll be pitch-black out there now, so take it steady, Mum.’ Her day trip really had taken her out of her comfort zone; Ellie really appreciated that.

  Joe and Ellie walked Sarah down to her car, which was parked in the semicircle of gravel driveway that came right up to the main castle steps.

  ‘You take care now, Ellie. No overdoing it. I know what you’re like.’

  ‘I won’t, I promise.’

  ‘Not sure when we’ll see you next, but Dad says he’ll pop up soon. He’s just had so much work on just now.’

  ‘Oh, I meant to mention, it’s not that long now really, would you like to come up for Christmas again this year, spend it here at the castle? Come for a few days. I’ll do dinner, the works, make it special.’

  ‘That sounds lovely, but on one condition, you let me help. And I’ll bring some food to contribute. I could do one of my boiled hams and a trifle or something.’

  ‘Yes, okay, that’s a deal … And Jay can bring Carmel too, if he wants. More the merrier. We’ve got plenty of room.’ She smiled, looking over her shoulder at the huge stone castle that was now home; what a contrast to their terraced redbrick house in the Newcastle suburbs. And yet, both places were warm, filled with love and caring. It was all bricks (well, stone) and mortar at the end of the day. What really mattered were the people inside it.

  ‘Have a safe journey.’

  ‘Lovely to see you, Sarah, and thanks for bringing up that gorgeous supper.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’

  ‘And you take care of yourself, Ellie, pet. No doing too much, like you usually do.’

  ‘I’ll be keeping a very close eye on her.’ Joe answered, as he placed a caring hand on Ellie’s shoulder.

  And off Sarah drove, into the dark, with a quick wave out the window.

  22

  ‘Are you sure you still want to go ahead with this, Ellie? We could cancel or make it smaller scale. We don’t have to open the teashop, just keep it to the craft stalls in the hall.’

  There was only one week to go until the first ever Claverham Castle Christmas Craft Fayre, and Joe was concerned.

  ‘No, I’ll be okay. I’ve done lots of the baking for it already. It can’t go to waste. And I have my team to help me. And you know, I think it’ll give me something to focus on. I can’t just sit about and mope anymore.’

  ‘You’d have every right to. And you should be taking it a bit easier, at least.’

  ‘I know. But that’s so not my style. And we’re so close to this event, all the posters are out, it’s in the papers and everything. Let’s make it a success. We’ve all put so much effort in already. I’m more than ready to go back to work.’

  ‘Well, just promise me you won’t overdo it, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  There was a sense of tension and anticipation about the Christmas Craft Fayre through the castle staff. If this went well, then it could become an annual event, and draw people (and income) to the castle at what was usually a quiet time of the year. Joe had been busy with advertising – there were features in the local press, notices in the Tourist Information centres, and posters around the area including Kirkton, Bamburgh and Seahouses on the coast.

  Deana and Doris had co ordinated all the stallholders, and they had a grand total of sixteen different crafts with everything from cakes to candles, knitted toys and teddies, embroidery, wood turning. There was going to be a hands-on pots-and-paints table for the children to really get stuck in to. This had displeased Lord Henry no end, but he had been unanimously outvoted. They’d definitely need the oilcloths out to cover the tables for that though.

  Malcolm and Derek had secured a Santa and a sleigh. Doris’s husband, Clifford, had been taken up on his offer to appear as Father Christmas. Malcolm had procured a horse and cart for the afternoon, not Patrick the pony – though that might have been highly entertaining – but a fab little Shetland who could take the children on a trip up and down the drive, and was happy to wear antlers apparently. A local carpenter was going to make some fake sides for the cart out of MDF wood and paint them to look like a sleigh. With a touch of tinsel here and there, it would look the part and very festive. The only downside (why was there always a downside with Malcolm’s plans?) was that being a small Shetland, the pony couldn’t manage to pull an adult, so Father Christmas would be following on a quad bike. Well, it was the countryside after all.

  Ellie kept baking like a mad thing; it kept her busy and her mind off things. She managed the day-to-day teashop activities, whilst making as much shortbread, gingerbread, brownies and fudge as she could in between times. She was just taking a batch of vanilla cupcakes out of the oven ready to ice with coconut snow, then she was going to decorate them with ready-made sugar figures of Christmas penguins, snowmen, trees and polar bears. She was tired of an evening, and Joe kept telling her to ease off a bit. But she didn’t want to sit and dwell. She was better kept busy.

  Friday, one day to go, and full preparations were underway. Christmas had come early to Claverham Castle! Colin was out in the estate woods with James, who was now a strapping lad of twenty-two, looking for a suitable fir tree they could chop down, and bring back to display and decorate. They couldn’t access the Great Hall until after 4 p.m. when they closed it off to day visitors. So, it was going to be a long evening and busy morning, getting everything ready.

  The teashop kitchens were all hands on deck. Irene, Ellie and Doris were busy mixing, baking and icing, in between serving the regular teashop customers. Wendy had come in to help decorate the teashop with festive florals; she’d then concentrate on the Hall tomorrow. Holly, ivy and red and white carnations gave a splash of festive colour, gracing window ledges and the counter. She’d also made gorgeous table decorations with a very real-looking battery operated candle in each (for safety reasons). She would be selling them in the Great Hall too, along with Christmas wreaths. Having reserved a table for her florist’s stall – her mother was going to mind the shop, and a friend was going to help her here on the day. She’d seen it as a great opportunity, and was going to take Christmas orders too, for items that would need to be made up nearer Christmas time.

  It was lovely when the whole team came together, like they did with the wedding events; it was hectic but there was a real sense of the castle community, the staff, working as a team. Yes, there were always the odd hiccups, and someone would definitely have a minor strop at some point, but hey, it all worked out in the end. And they managed somehow to remain friends as well as colleagues. And whatever ups and downs they faced, and the sadness of the past ten days for Ellie, it made her see how much she had grown to love this place and the very special people in it.

  Saturday morning, 10.30 a.m. There was already one major strop going on, but luckily it wasn’t any of the castle staff. Little had they known that there was a pecking order for stallholders, and prime positions for stalls. Mrs Jam Lady was having battle of the stands with Miss Sewing Delights. Joe had tried his best to calm the situation as it was evident both of them couldn’t occupy the first stand by the main entrance doors where the customers would all (hopefully) flood
in, by suggesting a toss of a coin, which they had agreed to, but then carried on arguing once Mrs Jam Lady realized she had lost, and would be banished an alternative spot mid-room by the fireplace. It took Doris to manhandle her and her goods across to the empty table, offering her the £20 stallholder fee back if she wished to leave. Mrs Jam Lady realized that she had met her match, and backed down grudgingly, with the odd black look fired across at Sewing Delights.

  Ellie settled the stallholders by offering to make a big pot of tea, and she warmed some mince pies to bring up to them all. That seemed to work well, and most were smiling as they were setting up their stalls, bar Jam Lady who persevered with a straight line for a mouth. Ellie guessed her marmalades might be a touch bitter.

  Malcolm was now teetering up a stepladder – Colin had chosen a ten-foot tall monster of a tree, which was fantastic to look at, but pretty difficult to decorate. He’d just draped round the third lot of fairy lights, with Derek supervising positioning from down below. Then, there was the big light-up moment, Malcolm still up the ladder, in case any tweaking was needed. Colin went to turn the electric switch on. A second of glory and sparkly glow, and then boomph, the whole hall was plunged into a dim half-light.

  ‘Shite,’ came a mutter from the back of the tree.

  ‘Bollocks,’ came Malcolm’s groan from the top of the ladder.

  A general mumbling, grumbling and ‘Oh, nos’ spreading around the stallholders who were busy setting up.

  ‘It’s okay, just hold fire everyone. I’ll go and check the fuse box. We’ll see if anything’s tripped. Might be as simple as that.’ Joe called out.

  Well, that was great. Only two hours to go, with hopefully hundreds of people attending, and no electric. Joe hoped it hadn’t affected the whole castle, imagining the chaos if the teashop was down too. He tried to remain calm, found a torch in Deana’s office and headed for the main fuse box, uttering a silent prayer.

  Lord Henry caught up with him at the electric box.

  ‘What the devil’s going on now? I’ve got no damn electric in my rooms. I was just enjoying the snooker at the Crucible on the television. Bloody bad timing. O’Sullivan was about to get a one-four-seven, I’ll never know if he did it now.’

  ‘Don’t worry about your bloody snooker. I’ve got a hall full of angry stallholders and a Christmas Craft Fayre about to happen.’ Joe very rarely lost his temper, but this was one of those times when his nerves were frayed.

  ‘Right, yes, it had slipped my mind … I suppose I should be helping somehow.’

  ‘Yes, well that might be good. Hold the torch could you, that’d be a start.’

  Even in the daytime the castle was a gloomy place if there was no lighting. Designed with heavy stone walls and tiny windows to keep raiders out, it unfortunately let little light in.

  ‘Right, hold it steady. Hmm, I can see the trip is down for the Great Hall circuit and it seems to have tripped the whole of the west wing of the castle too. That’s why your rooms are out. Right, I’ll put them all off and then back on again, reset the lot.’

  He’d had to do this on several occasions over the years, to be fair. The electrics for the castle had been updated, but the whole system was made up of add-ons, and could be quite sensitive at times.

  ‘Right, I’m going to dash back and tell Colin not to try the Christmas tree lights again, as one set’s probably out. Malcolm will have to take them all down again and test them – ideally elsewhere, back in his cottage or something, where he can’t set off the castle again. I’d have thought he’d have tested them in the first place. That would have helped.’

  ‘Well then, shall I come across to see if there’s anything I can do? My snooker’s scuppered now anyhow.’

  ‘Yes, you may as well. It’s going to be a busy day, so the more help we have the better.’

  ‘Just don’t get me mixed up with a load of kids. I’ll call the raffle or something, that’ll do.’

  Lights tested – back at Derek and Malcolm’s cottage, tripping their switches too, with one dodgy set having to be discarded – they were left with a slightly less twinkly display of two strands. With plenty of tinsel and baubles from previous Christmas’s dragged out from storage – some of it looking distinctly Victorian – the tree still looked really pretty.

  The stallholders had set up. The hall was looking fabulous. Wendy had woven her magic with festive florals and greenery, and the smells from the room were wonderful, of pine and cinnamon, scented candles, spiced cookies. Ellie had organized her table of teashop goodies and Lauren, one of her waitresses, was going to mind it for her; they were also taking orders for Christmas cakes and hampers. Ellie herself would have to stay down at the teashop to help keep up with the steady flow of customers they were hoping for. With her last batch of mince pies still warm out of the oven, she made up a pot of tea for herself, Doris and Irene, before it all got too busy and they never had chance. Ellie bit into a crumbly mince pie – well, someone had to check they were all right – spicy, fruity and warm, delicious.

  Doris’s mobile phone rang, interrupting their break.

  ‘What do you mean you can’t get out of bed? You’re meant to be here by 11 o’clock.’ They listened in to one side of the conversation. ‘Ooh, I see … So you’ve been sick too. Oh dear …’ Doris was shaking her head at them dramatically, a frown forming across her brow.

  She switched off her phone. ‘Father Christmas is poorly. He can’t make it.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Irene, ‘The children will be so disappointed. We had the bran tubs of gifts ready and everything. And he was going to make a grand entrance down the driveway.’

  ‘What a shame, it won’t be the same without a real Father Christmas.’ Ellie was racking her brains for an alternative, but everyone else who was involved in the event was already so busy.

  ‘Oh well, I’d better go up and tell Joe the bad news, hadn’t I,’ Doris said.

  ‘Such a shame.’

  Doris found Joe, soon after he had sorted out the lighting problems, just as he thought he’d got everything settled. Malcolm came dashing in at the same time, ‘The sleigh and pony are here, but no Father Christmas as yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just heard, it’s my Clifford, he’s been right poorly. I hoped he might rally, but he’s just phoned in. Thinks it’s the flu. He daren’t come and spread all his germs to the children. He can hardly get out of bed anyhow, by the sounds of it.’

  Just then Lord Henry wandered across, ‘Some decent prizes there. What’s the raffle for then, Joe? Some charity, I presume.’

  ‘Yes, the air ambulance.’ It had been chosen especially, bearing in mind how it had helped Daniel during his motorcycle accident.

  Suddenly, three sets off of eyes landed on Lord Henry, the same thought flashing across three faces.

  Doris strode in where the other two dare not, ‘Lord Henry, I need a really special favour. You couldn’t just try something on for me, could you?’ And with that, she whisked him away.

  From her office window, Deana could see people beginning to queue outside the main entrance; it was nearly ten to eleven – that looked promising. Derek telephoned through to say they were ready for the off up in the Great Hall, and that he and Malcolm would be down at the front steps in ten minutes to organize the arrival of Father Christmas and the ‘reindeer’ pony and sleigh, so could she could let the visitors know, especially those with children.

  ‘Ho, ho, and bloody ho. That good enough, Deana?’

  In walked a very grumpy Father Christmas, followed by Doris with a red face, saying, ‘Sorry, but I’ve got to hand him over. I’m needed at the teashop, sharp. Just make sure he doesn’t bail out.’

  ‘Lord Henry, how the hell are you going to be nice to children for a whole hour or two?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest bloody idea. The beard’s scratchy already. And the suit’s snug to say the least. Evidently not designed for a six foot two man.’

  Deana tried to suppress a grin, but
failed miserably; it spilled out over her trembling lips. ‘They should have had you lined up as Scrooge, might have been an easier part for you to play.’

  ‘Hah, bloody, hah. I’m only doing this to stop the bloody children crying ‘cos there’s no Father Christmas. He can’t very well be ill can he?’

  ‘Is that what’s happened? It was meant to be Clifford, last I heard.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. He’s now been struck down with flu. I’m the last resort.’

  ‘Well, I kind of guessed that.’ Deana held back a wry grin.

  He decided to ignore that comment. ‘I have to drive in on a quad … a quad I tell you. Greet the masses, go up to the Hall and sit and dish out gifts, thinking of sickly sweet things to say to all the little buggers who’ll want to sit on my knee.’

  ‘Ah, you’ll be fine … Just don’t swear, or say anything to frighten them.’ Was this really a good idea? What was Doris thinking? No Father Christmas at all, might actually have been safer than a crotchety, swearing one.

  ‘It’s all right, I know what you’re thinking. I can act, I’ll just pretend I like children for the hour. Just be ready to hand me a stiff gin and tonic afterwards.’

  It was well known that Deana had a little supply of gin and cans of tonic in her bottom drawer. Handy for the odd occasion. ‘Deal. I might be needing one too, by then.’ She winked at him.

  Derek came past to unlock the gates, there was no admission fee today. They’d decided that might help encourage more people to come along; they hoped they’d spend their money inside.

  ‘Right, you’d better hide in the back room with the filing cabinets, ‘til they’re ready for you. Don’t want to be giving the game away too soon.’

  ‘Fine. I know my place. Lord of the bloody Manor dressed up like an idiot and hiding in a broom cupboard. I could have been back in my rooms, minding my own business, watching the snooker, if I’d had any sense …’ he grumbled on.