The Little Teashop of Lost and Found

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘We’ll have time for a proper talk then,’ she said, and I told her I’d love to.

  The room quickly filled up and began to buzz like a shaken hive of hornets, and the book launch went with a swing. There was a brief speech from Senga, the reading of the first chapter of the new novel by Eleri, and then a scrummy buffet tea of sandwiches, cakes and savouries that were along the lines of the food I intended serving in the teashop, only mine would be daintier. There was a toast in champagne, too, one of my many weaknesses, so I was glad Nile was driving.

  Goody bags were distributed to everyone, containing fans, heart-shaped chocolates and a postcard bearing the facsimile of the Brontë sisters’ portrait painted by Branwell.

  Everyone mingled over tea and I talked to people from all over the world: Eleri had millions of fans, and the Brontës, of course, even more. In fact, I’d just met someone involved with the Brontë Parsonage Museum and was telling them about my plan to open a premier tearoom in Haworth, when Henry happened to overhear and said he hoped I wasn’t stealing his ideas, so I could set myself up to be competition!

  But then I decided he must be joking, in a straight-faced way, and Nile, who was standing next to me, said a teashop in Haworth was too far away to be competition anyway. Then he added that he’d heard how wonderful Henry’s restaurant was and he must bring me to try it one evening.

  ‘We’re open all year in the evenings – and so is the café now, every afternoon between two and five,’ Henry said. ‘Since Eleri found that diary mentioning Charlotte Brontë and we put it on display, we get a lot more visitors out of season.’ He indicated an illuminated glass display box on the back wall. ‘There’s a facsimile in the tearoom, but this one’s the real thing.’

  I left him talking to Nile and went to look at the journal, where I met two American sisters bent on the same errand. They’d both come as Cathy and had been at the initial tea party the year before.

  ‘It was a smaller party in the café, and things got very exciting when it was breaking up, because there was a tractor accident right outside and Henry was a real, genuine hero,’ said one of them. ‘He was so brave, wasn’t he, Eleri?’ she said, appealing to her as she finally abandoned her book-depleted station and began to circulate among the guests. ‘And you were too.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t do anything much,’ Eleri said modestly. ‘My husband’s cousin George managed to roll his tractor into the ditch while trying to turn it,’ Eleri explained to me. ‘Henry got right under it to help him until the emergency services arrived.’

  ‘Yes, I’m a genuine hero,’ Henry said sardonically, putting his arm round his wife.

  ‘Not that George is at all grateful – or he was, but it wore off quickly,’ Eleri said ruefully. ‘He’s such a grumpy, mean kind of man.’

  ‘Not a bit like his father,’ agreed Henry. ‘You couldn’t find a kinder man than Joe Godet.’

  My ears pricked up: could it be that easy to find one of the two people I wanted to talk to?

  ‘Does he live nearby?’ I asked.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes – Withen Bottom Farm, just over the hill,’ he said, his face going all shuttered, so despite the rescue there was clearly no love lost between them.

  I didn’t like to ask any more, but my head was buzzing as Nile drove us back home, what with all the fascinating conversations, Senga’s pep talk and instructions, and meeting Eleri again – not to mention knowing where to find one of the two people I desperately wanted to talk to.

  I said as much to Nile and then thanked him for going with me. ‘I know you didn’t want to, really.’

  ‘Actually, I quite enjoyed myself, and I liked Henry Godet,’ he said. ‘I’m going to keep my eyes peeled for more antique farm tools for him to display in the restaurant.’

  ‘I’m glad you had a good time,’ I said, surprised. ‘I expect you’ll be glad to get out of those clothes, though.’

  ‘I’ve certainly had enough of the boots, and they’re not the easiest footwear to drive in,’ he agreed, and removed them at the first opportunity when we got back, utilizing a cast-iron boot jack by the front porch and going in in his stockinged feet.

  The house seemed strangely deserted, though it was warm and there was the smell of something spicy baking in the oven.

  ‘It’s like the Mary Celeste,’ he commented.

  ‘Yes … but I need to find someone to unhook this dress,’ I said, because there was no way I could undo the million tiny hooks and eyes down the back of it on my own.

  ‘I think you’re out of luck, unless you’d like me to unhook you?’ he offered, with a slightly wicked glint in his grey eyes.

  I dithered for a moment, but I was desperate to get back into my jeans and a sloppy sweatshirt. ‘Oh, all right,’ I agreed.

  I turned round and he began at the top and worked his way slowly down. At one point his fingers accidentally brushed my skin and when I shivered he paused for a moment, then resumed, more quickly.

  ‘There you are,’ he said finally, and then I swear I felt his warm lips briefly brush the nape of my neck.

  But perhaps I only imagined that. Because when I whirled round and stared at him, he was over by the stove, putting the kettle on.

  He looked up, frowning, as if surprised to find me still there. ‘What are you waiting for? First one back downstairs looking as if they belong in the present century gets to make the coffee.’

  I took a part-time GP position in a Haworth practice and spent my off-duty hours playing golf, taking Father for small outings in the car and walking the dog on the moors. I came to an arrangement with the cleaner, Kim, who took on the weekday afternoon role of housekeeper. Life settled down quite pleasantly and I even got away occasionally to my villa in Portugal, though it was let for most of the year.

  In due course, Drogo went to meet his Maker and was replaced by a new Bichon Frise, Hugo. He proved to be of a mischievous and stubborn character and I would have returned him to the breeder for a more amenable replacement, except that Father wouldn’t hear of it, even after Hugo ate his slippers.

  Kim promised to take him in hand and after a couple of unfortunate episodes, he began to behave with more circumspection, especially when he was out with me.

  One day – I suppose this would be about six or seven years ago – I happened to hear that my former lover had moved back to the area, having inherited the family home, which lay up on the moors between Upvale and Haworth. However, this news meant nothing to me – and nor did I feel a pang when I learned of his sudden death the following year, for he’d long been dead and buried to me.

  25

  Flounced and Frilled

  When I went back downstairs Nile had beaten me to it and, since he was his usual self in all ways, I told myself I must have imagined that moment in the kitchen … though I’ve no idea why I should, since I wasn’t sure if I even liked him most of the time, however attracted to him I was. And he was so not my type.

  But it was as if I could still feel the brief pressure of his warm lips against my skin and the delicious shiver that had run down my spine, so when my eyes caught his cool grey gaze I looked away quickly, blushing.

  All the family were there for dinner and later, after Casper had been put to bed, Nile, Bel and I went to Teddy and Geeta’s apartment and watched Bride and Prejudice, popped corn and, under Geeta’s direction, attempted some Bollywood dance moves. Teddy flatly refused, but Nile proved better at it than either Bel or I, though his expression of grave concentration reduced us to near-hysterical giggles.

  He had many hidden depths and goodness knew what was swimming round in them.

  After breakfast on Sunday morning most of the family trooped off to inspect the bedroom that was next on Sheila’s list of renovation projects and begin removing the furniture, but I was excused so I could finish off my edits in the peace of the library, and Teddy, because he had work to do in the Pondlife office.

  When I got back to my flat after lunch – or, to be more accurate, a
fter I’d snoozed off the sleepiness caused by eating a huge amount of roast chicken with all the trimmings followed by sticky toffee pudding and custard – I rang Lola and described the book launch party, my scary agent, and rather more than I meant to about how Nile looked in his shirt and breeches.

  ‘When I’m up for my flying visit on Thursday, I hope I get to meet this paragon of manly beauty,’ she said, with a laugh in her voice.

  ‘He’s not beautiful, but he’s certainly classically handsome,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if he’ll be here or not, because he goes off on buying trips all the time or … just off. And he has a partner in London called Zelda – he seems to stay there a lot.’

  ‘Partner as in personal or business?’

  ‘He says just business. Sheila, his adoptive mum, told me they’ve been friends since they were at university together, but I overheard a phone conversation between them and I have a suspicion there might be a bit more to it.’

  ‘Pity if so, because I’d like to see you settled with a nice man at last,’ she said regretfully.

  ‘I don’t think Nile is the settling kind, even if he was seriously attracted to me, which I’m certain he isn’t. And I’m not looking for Mr Right – I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment. If I get lonely, I’ll get a dog.’

  ‘That’s not quite the same thing,’ she said mildly. ‘But I realize how big a project the teashop is, especially now you have to juggle it with writing books for your scary-sounding agent.’

  ‘I’m enjoying it all – well, except for the dust, drilling and hammering – but I lie awake sometimes worrying that the tearoom won’t be a success and I’ll have to sell up again.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be and I’m looking forward to seeing it – and you. It’s been ages.’

  ‘I’ve organized you a bed,’ I told her. ‘Sheila’s loaned me a small brass one that was in the attic and Nile’s offered to dismantle it and drop it off here when he comes back this afternoon. I’ll order a mattress express delivery.’

  ‘That’s very kind of him, but I hope you aren’t going to too much trouble when I’m only coming up for one night.’

  ‘Only one night this time, but I hope you’ll come again and I meant to get the guest room sorted out ready anyway, so it’s just spurred me on a bit.’

  ‘Well, actually you might see me more often than you expect, if you decide to use our jams and relishes in your café. I’m bringing you some samples. But there’s no pressure to take them, because even if you don’t I can still claim this trip as a business expense to the accountant.’

  ‘That’s a great idea! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,’ I enthused. ‘And I must find an accountant too, before things get in a tangle. I’m keeping my accounts and filing all the receipts for the teashop, of course, but it’s going to be quite complicated.’

  ‘Yes, it’s worth it,’ she agreed. ‘Perhaps Nile has one he can recommend?’

  ‘He might. I’ll ask him later,’ I said. ‘By the way, Sheila’s invited us out to Oldstone Farm for dinner on Thursday night – is that OK? I said I’d run it past you first.’

  ‘Of course and it’s very kind of her. I do adore old houses and they sound a lovely family.’

  ‘I’ll tell her yes, then, and we can have a wander round Haworth before we go out there. I’ll take the day off.’ Then I heard a noise from below and told her, ‘Either I have a very noisy burglar in the kitchen, or Nile’s carrying bits of bed in.’

  ‘He has a key?’

  ‘Yes, I gave him one ages ago, because he’s always in and out, though he hasn’t given me a key to his place in return. Perhaps he thinks I’ll sneak in and fondle his curios.’

  ‘Or he’s got a Bluebeard’s chamber in his flat?’

  ‘That’s a nice thought,’ I said, grinning, and then told her I’d better go and help Nile get the bits of bed upstairs.

  I hoped he’d put it back together again for me too, but he seemed abstracted and left once he’d stacked it all in the small bedroom, saying he had calls to make, so I thought I’d get Jack to do it instead. Or perhaps it was time to augment my selection of screwdrivers and have a go myself.

  I emailed the edits off early next morning, hoping the editor could make sense of them, because I certainly couldn’t. All those changes in different colours were terribly confusing.

  Still, they were gone and after that there was nothing to stop me finishing my new book … apart from the teashop, as I discovered all too soon.

  For although Jack was site-managing the project between his other jobs elsewhere, I was constantly being summoned to make decisions, give an opinion, or simply admire the glossy white paintwork on the kitchen cupboard doors, or the installation of a gleaming new toilet in one of the two customer cloakroom cubicles. I could see every day would be like that until it was finished!

  The almost silent youth, Ross, had sanded and painted all the plate racks and shelves now and they were reattached to the café walls. I don’t think he enjoyed doing it, but he told me he was looking forward to sanding the café floor, once he’d worked his way all over it, hammering down any nails that were protruding.

  What with the noise, the interruptions and organizing all the other things that needed to be filled in, ordered, sourced, registered or applied for before the teashop could be opened, it was dawning on me that most of my writing time would be at night, when I was tired. But since Senga was scarier than anything I’d ever thought up in my stories, I’d get on with it.

  And once I was really into a novel, of course, I lost myself. The working title might be When Beauty Goes Bad, but in my head it was Bad-Ass Beauty – because she was.

  Nile seemed to keep late nights too, because I didn’t draw my curtains until I went to bed and whenever I looked up from my desk the lights were on behind the blind of his flat and occasionally a tall, dark shape moved across it. I found this strangely comforting.

  ‘This is a good weapon,’ Beauty said, picking it up from the floor. ‘Did you see? He just pointed it at the spider and it dropped right down dead!’

  ‘It’s not dead – but he might be,’ Prince Kev said, bending over the man, who had lost his balance and fallen, hitting his head. ‘No – I think he’s just stunned, but I’m getting out of here before he comes round!’

  ‘We’ll both go,’ Beauty said, taking his hand firmly in hers and drawing him out of the door.

  Outside, a pleasant small glade had opened up and a circle of green-clad nymphs were dancing, diaphanous draperies floating.

  ‘I think I must be having a nightmare,’ Kev said faintly.

  ‘If you kiss me, the enchantment will probably come right again and we’ll be transported to our very own happy-ever-after. Do you think I’m pretty?’ she added.

  ‘I suppose,’ he said, eyeing her generous curves, big blue eyes and corn-gold hair. ‘I like a girl with a bit of meat on her bones.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Beauty, puzzled. ‘Do you want to eat me?’

  The previous day I’d remembered the white crockery that Tilda had stashed away in the cupboard, and quickly posted details of it on a free recycling website, hoping someone would take it off my hands.

  I only had one taker, whose user name was the unpromising ‘MrMajestic’, but at least he wanted the lot and, when I gave my address, said he’d be right round to collect it and he didn’t need directions, so I assumed he was local.

  With hindsight I should have asked his real name, because had I known it was Jim Voss, proprietor of the ghastly Gondal Guesthouse, I’d have said the china had already gone.

  He arrived the back way, which showed a familiarity with the former owner he’d previously denied, and I think he might have shown a certain familiarity with me, too, except that when he walked right past me into the kitchen uninvited, he came face to face with Nell.

  She’d dropped by with a piece of her own lardy cake for me to try, which she was just releasing from its greaseproof wrappings, and she regarded him
with acute disfavour.

  ‘It’s you then, Jimmy Voss, is it?’ she said. ‘I might have known you’d be after something for nothing, for a little snirp you were as a boy and you haven’t changed that much since.’

  ‘Ha, ha!’ he laughed unconvincingly. ‘You will have your little joke, Nell.’

  ‘Miss Capstick to you, flower,’ she corrected him firmly.

  ‘The china’s all in those boxes in the back room you just walked past,’ I said pointedly.

  ‘Right,’ he said, glancing round at the chaos in the kitchen with beady-eyed inquisitiveness. ‘You’re certainly spending a lot of money on renovating the place. I suppose you’re buying new crockery too?’

  ‘There’s no need, when all the Misses Spencer’s lovely willow-pattern china, from when they had the Copper Kettle, was still sitting there in the cupboard,’ Nell said.

  ‘Oh? There was a lot of good china hidden in a cupboard?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘It wasn’t hidden, it was just under the basement stairs – and it’s about the only thing Mrs M didn’t clear out of t’ place, cheating poor Alice here out of what she’d paid for,’ Nell said.

  ‘Oh, well – I know nothing about all that,’ he said hastily.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Mrs Muswell?’ I asked. ‘I’d still like to talk to her – and so would Nile Giddings, seeing as she sold some antiques of his that she was displaying on the café walls, but didn’t give him the money.’

  ‘I’m sure he must be mistaken about that,’ Jim Voss said quickly.

  ‘No he isn’t, because either Tilda or me was there when she sold the things. It was when she was over here getting the place ready to close up early and Nile was away. She knocked them down at bargain prices and pocketed the cash.’

  Jim Voss gave her a very unloving look. ‘But I’m certain she would have kept the money separately, so she could pass it on to Mr Giddings. And I’m afraid I still don’t have her current contact details, but then, now she’s sold the café, she has no need to stay with us, does she?’ He gave me an insincere smile, then looked at his watch, gave a stage start, and said he must be getting on and he’d fetch the boy, who he’d left in his car at the back, to give him a hand with the boxes.