The Little Teashop of Lost and Found

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘I was teaching art in London and working at my ceramics in my spare time till my divorce, but now I’ve moved home again I’d like to see if I can earn my living from it,’ Bel said.

  ‘I suppose there’s quite a lot of passing tourist trade in the summer?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, so if we hung a “Pottery Open” sign at the end of the lane, people could come and watch us work, then perhaps buy some of Bel’s pieces,’ Sheila said. ‘Mine aren’t really impulse buys, though I might get one or two commissions that way, and I don’t mind if people watch me,’ she added. ‘Once I’m working, I won’t know they’re there.’

  ‘I don’t mind either,’ Bel said, ‘but I thought if we could offer refreshments, too, then that might make more of them decide to turn off.’

  ‘Yes, it’s not going to be a proper café, just coffee, tea, cold drinks and cakes,’ Sheila said. ‘I’d make the cakes – maybe one or two Norwegian specialities like Bergen buns.’

  ‘They’re delicious,’ said Geeta. ‘Sort of sponge cakes filled with apple – not really a bun at all.’

  ‘I think a sign advertising a pottery and refreshments would bring people in in droves,’ I said. ‘But you can’t work and serve food at the same time, can you?’

  ‘True, though I’m a lark and like to get up early and into my workshop in the mornings and we could open to the public just in the afternoons,’ Sheila said.

  ‘Once it’s up and running, we could get someone in to help anyway,’ Bel suggested. ‘There’s a local girl, Jan, who takes care of the baby while Teddy and Geeta are working in the office and I know her elder sister’s looking for a part-time job.’

  ‘I saw the sign for Pondlife on the way here,’ I said to Teddy and Geeta. ‘Nile told me you sell garden pools.’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ agreed Teddy. ‘Geeta and I run the family business, creating swimming ponds.’

  ‘Swimming ponds?’ I echoed blankly.

  ‘Ponds big enough to swim in,’ Geeta explained. ‘They’re expensive to put in, but ecologically sound, because they keep clean naturally and are easy to maintain.’

  ‘Dad started the firm up originally, when we lived near Bristol,’ Teddy said. ‘He dropped out of university after his first year and went to work for some family friends in Germany, who had a swimming pond business – it was popular there much earlier than it caught on here. Our business has slowly built up over the years.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of the idea, but it seems a good one,’ I said.

  ‘It was – and you have to admit, Nile, that taking the plunge with what might seem an expensive and airy-fairy idea sometimes works out,’ Sheila said to him pointedly.

  ‘Touché,’ he said with a grin that transformed his face to something much more human – and dangerously more attractive – than a Greek god. ‘I’m sure there’ll be a huge market in Yorkshire for potteries serving Bergen buns and expensive posh teashops.’

  ‘There will,’ Bel said firmly. ‘And we can help each other too, can’t we, Alice? Pool our resources. Sink or swim together.’

  ‘Splash out and go for it?’ I suggested.

  Teddy groaned.

  ‘You have the catering experience we lack, while I’m ace at painting and decorating,’ Bel said.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ I agreed.

  ‘Perhaps you should have a Plan B, in case your teashop doesn’t take off?’ Nile suggested to me pessimistically.

  ‘Oh, I’d cut my losses, sell the place, buy a small cottage and scrape a living,’ I said, though I didn’t say that it would probably come from writing horror fairy tales.

  ‘Or just move in here permanently and help me renovate the house, because it’s going to be an ongoing project for ever, like painting the Forth Bridge,’ Sheila offered. ‘But ignore Nile – his glass is permanently half empty. I’m sure your tea emporium will be a huge success.’

  I was starting to feel as if I’d known the Giddings family for a long time and I took this opportunity to put the question I’d been dying to ask for hours.

  ‘How did Oldstone Farm get its name?’

  ‘Oh, from the natural stone outcrop on a hill nearby – didn’t you see it as you arrived?’ asked Teddy.

  ‘No, it was starting to go dark and you couldn’t see much because of the wet mist.’

  ‘The Oldstone isn’t actually that close, but it’s a landmark. At some point a circle of stones was erected round it, but they’ve all fallen down now,’ Nile said.

  ‘It’s a nice place for a picnic in summer,’ Geeta commented. ‘If you know the way through the small back roads you can park quite near it, though there’s a hiking trail that goes right past it, too.’

  ‘And there’s a bit of a Brontë connection,’ Bel added. ‘It’s said that it was a favourite spot of Emily’s, though I don’t think there’s any proof, and it would have been a long hike from Haworth.’

  ‘It’s an odd sort of spot. The wind seems to whistle round the stones even on a summer’s evening,’ Sheila said.

  ‘There are all kinds of stories about it. Apparently, a baby was once found abandoned there, though I don’t know how any mother could do that to her child,’ Geeta said, tenderly stroking Casper’s downy head.

  The room swirled around me.

  ‘Is that an old legend?’ I heard Bel ask, as if from a long distance away.

  ‘Actually, I think it was fairly recent, now you come to mention it,’ Sheila said. ‘In fact, not many years before Paul brought me here after we got engaged, to meet his father and grandparents for the first time – Oldstone is the family home, you know, so Paul had always spent a lot of time here.’

  Then, catching sight of my expression, she looked at me with concern and asked, ‘Are you all right, Alice? Only you’ve gone very pale.’

  ‘Yes … fine,’ I said and then blurted out, without in the least meaning to, ‘Only … I think that baby might have been me!’

  Fortunately, at the critical moment Father had been on one of his lengthy tours of duty with the medical charity I-Cee. An ophthalmic surgeon, he’d taken early retirement when he came into a substantial inheritance, but kept his hand in by working in countries where a simple cataract operation could be a miraculous and life-changing event. People often said how kind and wonderful it was of him to devote his time unpaid to this work, but personally, I think he just enjoyed his god-like power to make the blind see.

  15

  On the Rocks

  The whole family turned as one to stare at me – even Casper momentarily stopped banging his plastic spoon on the tray of his highchair – and then Sheila asked gently, ‘What makes you think it might have been you, Alice?’

  ‘Because I was a foundling and my adoptive mother told me I was abandoned out on the moors near Haworth. On my birth registration document I was given the surname of Oldstone, so when Nile told me what this house was called, I thought perhaps I’d been left nearby … or even that someone from the family here had found me.’

  ‘I don’t think so, because I’m sure if that was the case it would have been mentioned when I was first told about it,’ Sheila said.

  ‘Then it would appear that you were literally called after the place where you were found,’ said Teddy, interested. ‘I must say, I’d never heard the story before.’

  ‘The last cleaner told me, and about the headless ghost dog that Blackdog Moor is named after,’ Geeta said, with a shudder. ‘It has red eyes and brings bad luck.’

  ‘I don’t see how you’d know if the dog had red eyes if it was headless,’ Nile objected.

  ‘No, and if that cleaner had spent as much time working as she did gossiping, she’d still be the present one, not the last,’ Sheila put in.

  I’d been lost in thought, but now I looked up and found Nile’s light, clear grey eyes fixed on my face. His expression was softer than it usually was when he looked at me, but then, we had managed to get off on the wrong foot right from the start.

  ‘Didn’t y
our birth mother ever come forward to claim you?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Dad said it was extremely likely that she was very young and perhaps hadn’t even realized she was having a baby until she gave birth, so she abandoned me in a panic.’

  ‘I believe that often is the case,’ Sheila said.

  ‘I hope your adoptive parents were nice?’ asked Bel.

  ‘Well, Dad was great, but he died when I was in my late teens and I left home soon after. I never got on with Nessa – my mother – so we didn’t stay in contact.’

  ‘That’s rather sad,’ Sheila said.

  ‘And now you’re back where you came from,’ Bel said, looking fascinated. ‘Have you thought that if you take after either of your birth parents in appearance, perhaps someone local will recognize you?’

  ‘It had crossed my mind,’ I admitted.

  ‘Light green eyes and long auburn hair,’ Sheila mused. ‘It doesn’t ring any bells … but then, we’ve only lived here for a few years, though of course we used to visit for holidays and long weekends before that.’

  ‘I think she looks sort of familiar,’ Bel said. ‘I did from the moment I saw her.’

  ‘That’s because she’s a dead ringer for Lizzie Siddal, the Pre- Raphaelite muse,’ Nile told her. ‘You’ll have seen her in loads of paintings.’

  ‘I am not!’ I snapped automatically, and he grinned, seeming happy to have got a rise out of me.

  ‘Actually, I think he’s right, though you’re much prettier,’ Bel told me. ‘Did you come to live in Haworth in the hope of finding your birth mother, Alice? Are there any clues as to—’

  ‘Bel, all this is none of our business,’ Sheila chided her gently. ‘Now, would anyone like a second helping of apple pie before I put the coffee on?’

  ‘Me, but I shouldn’t,’ Bel groaned. ‘My waistline is vanishing since I moved back home.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had one,’ Teddy said. ‘Maybe we’re just built differently, Bel.’

  ‘She will be, if she carries on eating so much,’ said Nile.

  ‘Just because you don’t have a particularly sweet tooth and can resist temptation, it doesn’t mean us lesser mortals can, too,’ she told her brother indignantly. ‘Anyway, it’s better to be a little on the plump side than so skinny the wind rattles your bones.’

  This was an exaggeration, for although Nile was on the willowy side, his shoulders were broad enough and I knew he had hidden strength because of the way he’d hefted my heavy suitcase about as if it weighed nothing.

  ‘I put all this weight on when I was pregnant with Casper and all I wanted to eat was pistachio and rosewater kulfi and Mars bars,’ Geeta said. ‘I didn’t have any problem before that.’

  ‘It’s not a problem: I like you cuddly,’ Teddy told her, and they exchanged an affectionate glance.

  I gratefully let the give and take of family conversation wash over my head again after that, thinking about what I’d learned: ever since Nile had told me the name of the house, I’d thought I must have been found nearby and that Nessa had exaggerated the loneliness of the spot where I’d been abandoned just to be cruel. Now I realized she’d told the truth, it somehow reinforced my determination to find out as much as I could about it.

  Teddy and Geeta went to their apartment right after dinner to put the baby to bed and I refused coffee, pleading tiredness after the long day, then went up to my room.

  My mind was whirling and I wanted to be alone to think, but the moment I saw the bed, with its crisp white sheets and the billowing expanse of an old-fashioned quilted blue satin eiderdown, huge waves of tiredness practically knocked me off my feet.

  I got ready quickly and climbed in, feeling as if I’d like to sleep for a hundred years, though preferably without the giant spiders of my story for company.

  ‘Gnaw faster!’ Beauty ordered the little mouse. ‘I can hear the spider stirring!’

  ‘This web stuff is disgusting,’ he said, spitting out a mouthful and then pulling a strand off his whiskers. ‘You owe me big time, for this!’

  ‘Anything,’ she promised, fearfully looking over her shoulder. ‘A lifetime supply of cheese – whatever!’

  ‘Cheese is so overrated,’ the mouse said. ‘I prefer a good single-estate dark chocolate.’

  ‘What’s chocolate?’

  The mouse sighed. ‘Of all the portals in all of Fairyland, I had to choose this one,’ he said.

  I woke much later than usual, probably because the previous day had lasted about half a lifetime … or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

  When I went downstairs, the kitchen was empty apart from Bel, who was eating toast and reading the newspaper.

  She said she was on breakfast duty. ‘Since Mum likes to get to her studio early, while I’m more of a laid-back, later kind of person, I always cook the breakfast when we have guests,’ she said, pouring me coffee. ‘I’ll scramble you some of our free-range eggs.’

  ‘Not if it’s any trouble,’ I told her. ‘Toast is fine.’

  ‘It’s no bother. Some visitors expect a full English breakfast, but we’re not geared up for it out of season.’

  ‘Where’s Nile?’ I asked, hoping he’d remembered his offer to drive me into Haworth later.

  ‘He took Honey out for a walk, but he says he’ll run you into the village as soon as you’re ready.’

  ‘I don’t want to put him out, if he doesn’t need to go – I could ring for a taxi,’ I suggested.

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t mind. He often comes home for the weekend – he can’t resist Mum’s Sunday lunch, for a start – but he has a client coming to the shop to see him today, so he has to get back.’

  ‘That’s OK then,’ I said, relieved. ‘When my car arrives tomorrow, it won’t be a problem and I can camp out in the flat over the café as soon as I’ve got a bed.’

  ‘Oh, but we’re hoping you’ll stay for at least a week!’ Bel protested. ‘Sheila’s going to charge you half-price, because we intend milking you for lots of free advice about starting up our café.’

  ‘I’d do that anyway,’ I told her. But it really would be more comfortable to stay at Oldstone Farm until the flat had some heating as well as a bed. Once I had my own transport and independence back, that was.

  The kitchen was at the rear of the house and while Bel was scrambling eggs I took my mug of coffee over to admire the view across the rolling moorland. The weather had changed entirely and the morning was bright, sunny and so clear that the finger of rock on a distant hill stood out like a bold black exclamation mark.

  ‘I presume that’s the Oldstone I can see?’ I asked her, feeling both attracted and repelled by the monolith in equal measure.

  ‘Yes, that’s it. On the maps it’s called the Devil’s Finger, but I think the Ordnance Survey people must have made that one up.’

  ‘It looks very near.’

  ‘I know, but it’s deceptive – it’s miles away really,’ she said. I suspected she was dying to talk about my having been found up there, but didn’t want to bring it up herself.

  I felt strangely comfortable with Bel already, as if she was someone I’d known for years, but I wasn’t yet ready to confide everything in her, as I did with Lola.

  After breakfast Nile came to see if I was ready to go. He was wearing jeans instead of his natty suit, and a soft blue-grey sweater, which just had to be cashmere: he reeked of elegance even dressed down.

  In an old cream Aran jumper knitted by Edie and cheap chain-store jeans, I didn’t feel so much dressed down as downmarket.

  Before we left, Bel offered to drive in later and show me the nearest big stores. ‘I love shopping, especially for home furnishings, and we could pick up some paint charts, too. Anyway, I’m just dying to see the café,’ she added candidly.

  ‘Don’t you want to work?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I mostly take the weekends off, unlike Mum. But then, she has some commissions to spur her on, while I’m still trying to build a name for myself
.’

  ‘I’d like to see your studio and what you make.’

  ‘You can do that later, or tomorrow, can’t you?’ Nile said, impatiently jangling his car keys, so I took the hint and went to fetch my coat.

  Nile was silent at first on the drive in, though I thought that might be due to his being stunned by my emerald-green acrylic fur jacket, which he hadn’t seen before; but then he said right out of the blue, ‘You haven’t seriously come to Haworth to try to find your birth mother, have you?’

  ‘I certainly didn’t move here with that intention alone,’ I said, thrown off balance. ‘It was just that I’ve never really felt I belonged anywhere until Edie – an old friend of mine – pointed out that I must have been born round here, so if I was going to feel at home anywhere, this would be it.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true enough, but I’d abandon any ideas of tracing your birth mother,’ he said, to my surprise. ‘After all, if she’s never come forward to claim you, she might not welcome you back with open arms. Life doesn’t always give you the happy endings you expect.’

  So far, life didn’t seem to have dealt me any happy endings!

  ‘Thank you, but I’d already thought of that scenario,’ I told him. ‘I want to find her so she can tell me who I am and what the circumstances were that led her to leave me out on the moors. I don’t feel angry or judgemental about it, I’d just like to know.’

  ‘She may have a new family by now and have told them nothing about you.’

  ‘I’ve thought of that one, too. If I find her, but she doesn’t want to meet me, then I’ll respect that.’

  ‘I’d still leave well alone, if I were you, and concentrate on this far-fetched tea emporium of yours, instead. God knows, it’s going to need all the help you can give it.’

  ‘Gee, thanks for that vote of support, Mr Small and Perfect,’ I snapped sarcastically, and after that we didn’t speak again until he’d wound his way through the back streets and up the alleyway to the parking space.