The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
Page 22
‘Good-quality stainless steel that will go in the dishwasher.’
‘The tables set for tea with tiered china stands …’
‘I haven’t sourced the right ones yet, but I’m working on it. They might have to be plain white, rather than willow pattern, though.’
‘The soft gleam of crystal water glasses …’ she murmured.
‘Water glasses? Oh God, I knew I’d forgotten something!’ I exclaimed. ‘And water jugs. Carry on,’ I urged her. ‘Let’s see if I’ve missed anything else.’
‘Preserve dishes and little pots for clotted cream and butter for the scones.’
‘Hang on,’ I said, and fetched the printout of my latest list, which was now more like an endless Dead Sea Scroll, and made some additions.
‘Right, carry on,’ I urged her. ‘This is really useful.’
‘Tea- and coffeepots … cups and saucers, sugar bowls, milk jugs.’
‘Teapots I’ve got, large and small, though I could do with more, and I’m ordering glass cafetieres for the coffee,’ I said. ‘There’s already a water boiler behind the counter, so Tilda or Nell can fill them there.’
‘Larger glasses for soft drinks?’
‘Yes, those are on the list, and I must find a supplier of old-fashioned bottles of traditional ones made from natural ingredients, like dandelion and burdock, ginger beer and lemonade, plus I’ll make jugs of my own lemonade in the summer,’ I added.
‘People will probably ask for cola.’
‘They might, but they’re not going to get it here,’ I said firmly. ‘I’ll set Nell or Tilda on to them if they get stroppy.’
‘Your staff do sound a bit scary!’ She looked around the room again. ‘What is going in the glass display case on the counter?’
‘Well, pots of your jams and preserves, for a start, but two large cakes of the day, too. One will always be some kind of fruitcake, but I’ll vary the other with old favourites like Battenburg, seed cake, Victoria sponge, coffee and walnut …’
‘Yum,’ she said appreciatively, then suggested, ‘Cake knives?’
‘I think I’ll buy some new stainless-steel dishwasher-proof ones.’
‘Then I’ve run out of ideas,’ she said. ‘You’ve thought it through very well and you’ll have time to fine-tune everything before you open, won’t you? I mean, exactly when are you going to open?’
‘November the 4th. That will give us the whole run-up to Christmas to establish ourselves and then perhaps I’ll close and reopen in the New Year. Mind you, the speed Jack works at, I could probably have opened a couple of weeks earlier.’
‘Then you can use the time to finish that new book, can’t you?’ she suggested.
‘Good point – and track down and talk to the two people who rescued me when I was abandoned.’
‘I’m sure that talking to the eyewitnesses will make it seem more real than just reading articles about it,’ she suggested.
‘It seemed pretty real when I was standing up on the hill by the Oldstone – so bleak and deserted,’ I said, shivering at the recollection. ‘I’d really like to know what made my mother leave me somewhere like that, where she must have been sure I wouldn’t be found, so I think I’m going to put an appeal in the local paper, too, saying how much I’d love to hear from her.’
‘I suppose that might be the only way to find her – if she comes forward,’ Lola said.
‘I was undecided about it, but Bel pointed out what great publicity the whole story would make for the teashop, even if nothing else comes of it, and she’s right.’
‘What does Nile think?’ Lola asked innocently, and I looked at her suspiciously.
‘Oh, that trying to trace her is a bad idea and even if I find her she might not be keen to meet me, so I’ll get hurt. Because he had a bad experience of that kind himself, when he tried to trace his father, he’s sure I will, too. Not that I actually care what he thinks,’ I added pointedly.
‘But if your birth mother comes forward voluntarily after the newspaper article, it’ll mean that she does want to meet you,’ she said. ‘And if she doesn’t then …’
‘Then either Nile is right, or she’s dead, or she’s moved away and hasn’t seen it,’ I finished.
‘So you might as well contact the newspaper,’ Lola concluded.
We had lunch in the pub where Nile had taken me, before walking around the village and then visiting the Brontë Parsonage Museum, which we both found so fascinating we were there for hours and more than ready for tea and scones at a café on the way back.
‘These scones are good, but mine will be better,’ I whispered.
‘So will your jam be if you stock mine, because this raspberry one is high sugar and low on fruit,’ Lola said critically, after liberally spreading some on half a scone and taking a bite.
‘Well, you’re the expert on that,’ I said, then asked her how the annexe to her parents’ house was coming along.
‘Almost finished, thank goodness. Dad’s done as much of the work himself as he could, to save money, which is why it’s taken so long. It’ll almost double the floor space of the original house, so we were very lucky to get planning permission.’
‘It’s easier if there used to be a building there anyway, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I think that swung it.’ She sighed happily. ‘What bliss it will be to have my own space again.’
‘I’m already loving the fact my flat is my own and no one can take it away from me,’ I said.
‘Once I’ve moved into the annexe with the girls, Mum and Dad will be able to have a bit of peace occasionally and I can stop feeling guilty about all our clutter and toys spreading everywhere,’ she said, though I was sure her parents loved having them there, however sad the reason for her return.
‘Once we’ve moved in, you can come and stay, if you can get away. Though actually, I suppose you’ll be working flat out till you’re certain the teashop is a success – which I’m sure it will be.’
‘I’m only opening five days a week, Tuesday to Saturday, so once things have settled down I could have a very quick visit. Tilda acted as manager for the last owner, so I’m sure she could cope alone later on. I’d love to see your parents again, and my godchildren – they’re probably now at least as big as I am!’
‘Oh, not quite!’ she said, laughing.
It was lovely to be able to spend some time with Lola – my constant friend. We’d led such different lives, yet whenever we met again we just took up where we left off, as though we’d been parted for barely a heartbeat.
We set out for the Giddingses’ early that evening, because Lola wanted a glimpse of the Oldstone first.
Miraculously, I remembered the twists and turns that led to the parking place, but then, I was always good at those puzzles where you have to guide a little silver ball bearing through a maze. I’d have escaped the Minotaur even without a ball of string.
We got out of the car but didn’t walk up to the top of the rocky outcrop, just viewed it from below, while a surprisingly Siberian wind whistled round our ears.
‘It’s a godforsaken spot to abandon a baby in, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘I was wrapped in a sheepskin mat and shoved into a hole in that rocky outcrop.’
‘It must have been an act of desperation and panic,’ Lola said charitably. ‘And I expect your mother was terribly sorry for what she’d done later – and so happy and relieved when you were found alive.’
‘I suppose I’d better make it clear in the newspaper article that I don’t harbour any anger towards her for what she did – which I don’t,’ I said. ‘I just want to understand why.’
‘I’m still surprised that Nessa’s never been in contact with you, even though she must have known she could have found you through us,’ she said.
‘I’m not, because after Dad died, suddenly it was as if she’d only been acting the part of my mother and she’d had enough of it – and of me.’
I seemed to make a habit of mislaying mothers.
Lola, with her sweet, serious expression and warm heart, was an instant success with the whole family, as I knew she would be. Even Nile, who’d turned up unannounced for dinner, thawed quickly and stopped glooming about some bijou bit of antiquity on which he’d been out-bid.
I told them all about Dolly and Lola’s Perfectly Pickled and Preserved Company and my sampling session earlier that day.
‘Everything was so delicious that I’m going to use them exclusively in my tearoom – and sell them from the counter, too. I’d have one of Lola’s display stands if I had more room, but I wondered if you might like to have one when you open the waffle house?’
Lola, who’d been showing Geeta and Sheila a random collection of snaps on her phone, ranging from the three little girls, the hens and the goats, to the newly painted wooden building housing the preserve company, scrolled to a picture of the stands.
‘Lovely,’ said Bel, leaning over the table to see. ‘I’m sure we’d have room for one of those.’
‘And perhaps you could supply the black cherry jam for my waffles?’ Sheila suggested.
‘I prefer blackcurrant,’ Nile said, coming out of his dark reverie at the mention of waffles.
‘Or strawberry,’ said Teddy, ‘that’s my favourite.’
‘I’ll bring samples for you next time I come up,’ Lola said. ‘The ones I brought have mostly gone.’
‘You’d better keep the next lot away from Alice, then,’ Nile said.
‘They were very small jars, just for tasting,’ I said indignantly. ‘It’s not like I was pigging out on gallons of the stuff.’
‘I think Alice said you were opening your waffle house next year?’ Lola said to Bel, quickly.
Bel nodded. ‘Easter, if we get planning permission in time.’
‘That’s the time of year when things hot up on the swimming pond front, too,’ Geeta said. ‘People start to think about installing one ready for summer.’
‘Oh, yes, Alice told me about those. I think natural outdoor swimming sounds a lovely idea.’
‘If you come in warmer weather, you can try ours,’ Sheila told her.
‘What with Alice’s teashop, Lola’s preserve company and our soon-to-be waffle house, we’re certainly sisters doing it for ourselves,’ Bel said, then sang a snatch of the Annie Lennox song.
‘Brothers are doing pretty well for themselves, too,’ Teddy pointed out.
‘True, you and Geeta have expanded the Pondlife business wonderfully, darlings,’ agreed Sheila. ‘And Nile’s little shop is a success too.’
‘Damned with faint praise,’ Nile said.
‘Now, Nile, you know I didn’t mean it like that, you big grump,’ Sheila told him affectionately.
‘We looked in the window of Small and Perfect earlier, and there are some lovely things,’ Lola said to him, soft-hearted as always, and then, since she adores babies, she went off with Geeta to help put Casper to bed.
When she returned, she said the smell of baby talc was enough to make her feel broody all over again, but for some reason this perfectly innocent remark seemed to cast Nile right back into his dark mood and he left before the coffee.
I noticed later when we got back to my flat that Nile’s curtains were drawn and the lights were on, but who knew if anyone was home? Was the bear in his cave, or had he wandered off somewhere?
‘Nile’s even more stunning than you said,’ Lola told me. ‘And I think he really likes you, because at dinner I kept catching him looking at you as if he was absolutely fascinated.’
I gazed at her, astonished. ‘I’m sure you’re wrong – or if he is fascinated, then it’s only because he can’t understand why I haven’t rolled over on my back every time he smiles, like practically every other woman.’
‘I probably would, if he smiled at me,’ she said. ‘And I think you’re in denial and really fancy him.’
‘Well, OK, I admit I do find him attractive – but even if it was reciprocal, I’m not looking for yet another relationship with a short shelf life.’
Lola dropped the subject, but I kept thinking about what she’d said about Nile staring at me, when I wasn’t looking …
The circle of dancing, diaphanously clad dryads pressed closer and closer around Kev, their soulless, beautiful eyes fixed on him and their grasping hands reaching out …
But Beauty hadn’t been asleep all those hundreds of years just to let a bunch of airy-fairy nymphs get her man, even if he did now seem both mesmerized and acquiescent.
She pointed the weapon she still held and the magic force caused the nearest dryad to fall over in a heap with a loud and satisfying scream.
Beauty snatched Kevin’s scimitar and would have followed on with a little letting of green blood, had the fallen nymph’s sisters not scooped her up and run for the trees, where their fluttering draperies soon vanished into the foliage.
Given the situation of the GP surgery I’d joined, it was inevitable that my former lover’s family would register there after they’d moved into the ancestral home on the moors just outside Haworth. Oldstone Farm was an extensive, sprawling affair, with the central part rumoured to be of great antiquity, though I have little interest in such things.
Nor do I have any idea why it should be called by that name, for it was miles from the rocky outcrop, and if the place had ever been a working farm, it had ceased to be one within living memory.
My practice was a large one and the family were registered with another of the doctors there, so I had little contact with them, though of course, whether I did or not was a matter of complete indifference to me.
27
Distant Views
Lola had to set out for Shrewsbury early next morning and once Ross arrived and started sanding the floorboards in the café, I began to wish I’d gone with her.
Bel had suggested that I went over to stay with them that day, though, so we could walk up to the Oldstone together very early the next morning, so in the end I put my overnight bag in the car and left Ross to it.
I had an appointment to meet a local artisan baker I’d heard about, who was young and enthusiastic about the idea of providing the bread for my teashop, then afterwards I went on to check out the stock of a cash and carry, before ending up at Oldstone Farm.
When I was there the previous night with Lola it was clear that Sheila assumed that I’d be spending my weekend with them, probably helping to paint the room she was revamping. It was a bit of a busman’s holiday, but I didn’t mind. It would get me away from the reek of the floor sealant too, which I hoped would have abated a bit by the time I returned to my flat on Sunday.
Just after dawn on Saturday morning, Bel and I set off across the moors in my car with an eager Honey in the back.
In fact, it was so early that we were surprised to find a glossy new Renault hatchback already parked on the turf below the Oldstone.
‘I hoped we’d have the place to ourselves,’ I said, disappointed. ‘There was no one about last time.’
‘It could be a twitcher, out watching birds,’ Bel suggested.
‘Is there anything much to watch at this time of year?’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she confessed.
But it appeared that it wasn’t a twitcher, for as we headed up the path a woman appeared from the other direction, with a white Bichon Frise at her side.
‘Early dogwalker,’ Bel said.
‘I thought that was a lamb, at first,’ I said. ‘They’re very woolly little things.’
When we got nearer, I could see that she was perhaps in her fifties, of medium height and well built, without being stocky. She had steel-grey hair pulled back into an uncompromising plait, pale lipstick, chilly blue eyes and an expression to match.
But there was something familiar about her … and th
en I suddenly realized she was the woman I’d met driving towards me in the narrowest part of the lane the day of my first visit, when she’d simply sat there waiting for me to reverse miles to a passing place. You don’t forget someone you’ve had that kind of stand-off with – especially when you came off the worst! So, either she lived nearby, or this was a favourite haunt of hers … or perhaps both.
The cold, uninterested gaze swept over us, though I thought her eyes lingered on me for just a moment, so the recognition might have been mutual.
‘Good morning,’ she said briefly.
I’m sure she would have continued on past, if Bel hadn’t exclaimed, ‘Oh, it’s Dr Collins, isn’t it? Perhaps you don’t remember me – I’m Bel Giddings and we met when you were called out to Oldstone Farm one night. My baby nephew was running a high fever.’
‘Oh – of course,’ she said, stopping and shaking hands in a professional manner, but without any enthusiasm. Her ice-floe eyes rested on me again and Bel introduced us.
‘This is my friend Alice Rose. She’s opening a tearoom in Haworth.’
‘Rather a crowded field, I would have thought,’ she said in clipped tones, and the little dog, who had been exchanging friendly sniffs with Honey, looked up at her, its head on one side.
‘I’m sure there’s room for one more,’ I replied pleasantly. ‘We’ve actually come face to face once before, Dr Collins.’
‘We have?’
‘The Saturday before last. I was here a little earlier than this and our cars met in the lane as I was leaving.’
I didn’t mention the reversing for miles bit, though it hadn’t endeared her to me. ‘This must be a favourite spot of yours?’
She shrugged. ‘The dog needs to be walked and I like to be solitary at the start of the day – which can usually be counted on here,’ she said rather pointedly. ‘Excuse me, I must be getting back now. Come along, Hugo.’
The dog obediently trotted after her, though he turned his head with one of those lolling-tongued canine grins, his eyes bright, as if to say: ‘Just you wait – I’ll get up to some mischief as soon as we get home!’