The Little Teashop of Lost and Found

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Ho, ho,’ I said. ‘I don’t want there to be any fireworks, just a quiet, civilized opening welcome and then straight into the teas.’

  ‘It sounds a riot of gentility,’ he said drily, then added, ‘I like your friend Edie and she gave me lots of good advice.’

  ‘What about?’ I asked suspiciously.

  ‘Oh – all kinds of things,’ he said vaguely, and then rang off.

  The bright, friendly rectangle of Nile’s window glowed warmly that evening as I worked on, laying down the bones of that last chapter and, when I’d finally finished and noticed the empty box of Edinburgh rock at my elbow, I felt quite sick, but in a good way.

  The lasting powers of attorney were signed in the nick of time, for Father’s mental faculties have definitely begun to fail, too. His memory in particular is not what it was, so that he continually repeats information he’s already given me – a trait that in other people used to infuriate him.

  Yesterday, I caught him engaged in a one-sided conversation with Hugo. In my opinion, this is not the action of a rational mind.

  It is sad to see the decline of so sharp an intellect.

  37

  Ancestral Traces

  Despite my late night I was still up and baking in the teashop kitchen early the following morning – cheese and tomato tartlets, mini fat rascals and iced fairy cakes.

  Then I set the large round table in the bay window with a crisp, snowy cloth and napkins, plates, glasses and cutlery – a kind of trial run. I unfolded one of the highchairs recommended by Geeta, too, ready for Casper.

  It all looked lovely, if I said it myself, and by the time the family arrived, closely followed by Nile (not, I was pleased to observe, wearing an antique sporran), everything was ready apart from putting out the cake stands and making tea and coffee.

  The soft turquoise and dusky pale raspberry-pink glass of the art deco chandelier and wall lights were reflected in the mirror behind the counter, so that what might have looked quite a long, narrow cave appeared to go on for ever.

  Bel and Nile had, of course, seen the evolution of both flat and café, but trooped upstairs with everyone else – I thought we’d start at the top and work down – and at least Sheila admired my dried flower door wreath and then stood in deep, appreciative silence in front of Dad’s portrait of me for quite ten minutes.

  ‘Wonderful!’ she said, finally. Then she peered out of the front window and remarked, ‘When you’re sitting here at your desk, you must practically be able to have a conversation with Nile in his flat!’

  ‘Well not really, it isn’t that close,’ I said quickly.

  ‘I often see Alice working away when I pull down my blind,’ Nile said. ‘But usually she’s so lost in what she’s writing, she doesn’t notice.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have a rope and pulley across the gap, so you can send baskets to and fro,’ Sheila suggested. ‘The hooks on the wall outside were probably for laundry lines that went across like that.’

  ‘You know, I hadn’t noticed those,’ I said, amazed, and then we all went back downstairs and viewed the immaculately hygienic kitchens.

  There was no place for a single germ to hide and all the cleaning rotas, daily and weekly, were up on the wall already, as were charts near the fridges and freezer for marking when and where from the various food products had arrived.

  ‘Luckily Tilda managed the Branwell Café and kept herself up to date with all the rules, regulations and paperwork, because I don’t think Mrs Muswell was very interested,’ I told them. ‘Tilda ran a very tight ship and she’s still going to do the day-to-day management once we’re up and running, so I can take more of a back seat, apart from the baking.’

  ‘It all looks perfect to me, especially now I understand more about what’s involved,’ Sheila said, and the others agreed.

  ‘I think we’ve got our café plans right too, thanks to your advice,’ Teddy said. Casper had suddenly fallen asleep against his shoulder and looked angelic, though he’d done his best to grab the dried flower garland from the flat door as we came down.

  We did a final loop down to the boiler room and then through the fire door to the now rather palatial cloakrooms.

  ‘I’m taking notes for the Oldstone Farm customer conveniences,’ Teddy said. ‘The sanitary ware, I mean – I’m not really into interior design.’

  ‘You’re not into interior design at all,’ Geeta told him. ‘Left to you, the apartment would have been all gloomy dark leather and decorated with old railway signs.’

  ‘We’ll sort the décor out anyway,’ Bel assured him. ‘It’s the fun bit, isn’t it, Alice?’

  ‘It’s probably the only fun bit,’ I agreed.

  Emerging up the short flight of stairs into the teashop, I left them to make themselves comfortable at the window table while I warmed the fat rascals and filled the cake stands. Bel helped ferry everything through, while Nile made the tea and coffee behind the counter, as if he’d been a Fat Rascal employee for years.

  Casper, secured in one of the new highchairs, was drinking a cup of juice Geeta had brought for him, but it occurred to me that I ought to buy one of those little baby-bottle warming machines, even though I didn’t think I’d get many small children coming in.

  Everything passed the taste test with flying colours, especially the fat rascals, warm, split in half and buttered.

  ‘Was your trip to Scotland successful?’ Teddy asked his brother, beating him to the last one.

  ‘Oh, yes, I think you could say it was,’ replied Nile.

  ‘He bought a sporran,’ I told them.

  ‘I thought it would be handy for keeping my small change in,’ he said with a straight face. ‘But then I mentioned it in an email to an American client who loves anything Scottish and he’s snapped it up.’

  ‘I’m afraid I snapped up all that Edinburgh rock you brought me back, too,’ I said ruefully, ‘but it did keep me going while I roughed out the last chapter.’

  ‘Sugar gives you worms,’ he reminded me.

  ‘Don’t be revolting, Nile!’ Geeta said.

  ‘Actually, I think that’s an old wives’ tale,’ Bel told her brother.

  ‘That was a lovely tea, darling,’ Sheila said to me, laying her napkin on an empty plate. ‘It feels delightfully decadent having such a lush tea, so I think your tearoom is bound to be a winner!’

  ‘Yes, it might not be quite the mad idea I thought it was,’ Nile admitted.

  ‘There can’t be much left to organize now, can there?’ asked Sheila. ‘Is everything finished?’

  ‘There are bound to be several forgotten last-minute things, but no, I’m almost there. I have a list of my chosen suppliers and when I’ve rewritten my novel and sent it off next Friday, I’ll put in the first orders and go to the cash and carry to stock up on basic ingredients.’

  ‘And I know you’re having the menus, leaflets and business cards printed,’ Bel said.

  ‘Newspaper adverts?’ suggested Geeta.

  ‘I’ve drafted one out, because I’m going to contact the local paper on Monday, to see if they want to run an article about how I was abandoned on the moors and my search for my mother. If the advert goes into the same issue, then even if she doesn’t come forward I’ll still get some good publicity out of it.’

  ‘I think that’s very sensible,’ Sheila said. ‘Suggest they do the interview at Oldstone Farm, if you like, so you have someone with you.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s a great idea, because I do feel nervous about it,’ I replied gratefully.

  ‘And since you finished the first draft of your novel last night, you can come back home with us now and have a little rest over the weekend, can’t you?’ she suggested. ‘We’ll have a celebratory family dinner tonight, too!’

  ‘Anything except the sheep’s head,’ Teddy said, which seemed to be a running family joke.

  It wasn’t sheep’s head, but a delicious creamy pasta dish, preceded by mackerel pâté with thin, crisp toast, and fo
llowed by a sherry trifle and thick cream. I could feel the waistband of my jeans tightening with every bite … or maybe that was the Edinburgh rock still expanding.

  ‘How is Zelda?’ asked Sheila, scraping the last of the trifle into Teddy’s bowl, which he’d been holding out mutely for a second helping, like a well-nourished version of Oliver Twist.

  ‘Yes, has she decided yet if she’s going to buy you out of the antiques stall?’ asked Bel. ‘You haven’t said.’

  ‘That’s because I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to be speaking to me at the moment,’ he said tersely.

  ‘Have you been arguing again?’ asked Sheila. ‘You sounded cross when she rang you last week and I thought how odd it was, because you’ve never disagreed all the years you’ve known each other and now suddenly you keep falling out.’

  ‘She’s never propositioned me with one loopy idea after another, before,’ said Nile. ‘That’s why.’

  ‘But I thought you said the marriage thing was a joke?’ asked Teddy.

  ‘It was to me, until she suddenly thought we should give it a go. And when I turned that one down, she came up with another bright idea …’

  Bel said cheerily, ‘Well, are you going to tell us, or shall we try to guess?’

  ‘I don’t know that it’s any of our business,’ Geeta said.

  ‘Well, she was the one who announced they were getting married when they weren’t,’ Bel pointed out. ‘He might as well tell us, before our imaginations run riot.’

  I think mine already had …

  ‘She wanted me to be her sperm donor and then play a part in the baby’s life,’ he said. ‘I mean, if there was one.’

  I stared at him: no wonder he’d seemed a bit distracted lately!

  ‘I think that might be taking friendship a little too far,’ Geeta said.

  ‘But you can see why she’d rather have someone she knows really well, like Nile, than an anonymous donor,’ Bel said. ‘But it’s a big commitment, because Nile isn’t the kind of man to walk away and not get involved.’

  ‘No, and I feel she’s put me on the spot by asking me,’ he said, looking right at me, though I don’t know why.

  Sheila frowned. ‘I really don’t think it’s a good idea, darling. People do ask friends to be their sperm donors, or even egg donors, but there can be all kinds of drawbacks when you think it through.’

  ‘Yes there are, and though it seemed mean to say no, there was no way I could do it.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Bel said. ‘I mean, just think what would happen if Zelda got into another relationship with one of those dreadful men she favours and he moved in with her. It could all get a bit messy.’

  ‘Or you found someone else you wanted to settle down with,’ said Sheila brightly.

  ‘I can see where she’s coming from, since you’re already friends and business partners, so you’re up and down to London all the time,’ Teddy said.

  ‘But I’m hoping she’s going to buy me out of the stall so I don’t have to go up and down all the time!’

  ‘Then you could do it, but make it clear she’ll have to go it alone afterwards,’ Teddy suggested. ‘It does seem mean not to help her at all, when you’re such old friends.’

  ‘You do it, then,’ snapped Nile.

  ‘No way!’ exclaimed Geeta.

  ‘I do make very nice babies,’ Teddy said, rather smugly regarding his offspring, who was messily eating a piece of banana.

  ‘We make nice babies,’ Geeta said emphatically.

  ‘I think Nile’s right not to do it, don’t you, Alice?’ asked Sheila.

  ‘Me?’ I said, turning slightly pink. ‘It’s nothing to do with me … But if she does go ahead with AI one way or the other, then one day the child will want to know who his father is, won’t he or she?’

  Nile gave me one of his unfathomable looks. ‘I think children of registered sperm donors can find out about their fathers when they turn eighteen now.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure I’ve read that somewhere,’ agreed Teddy.

  ‘It would be lovely to trace either of mine,’ I said ruefully, and then Teddy, who is into family history in a big way, told me about the genealogy site he used and that it was possible to take a DNA test through them.

  ‘Oh, yes – Nile mentioned that once, but I’m not sure what it would show if I did it.’

  ‘If people related to you have taken one and registered on the database, then you might find some relatives,’ he suggested. ‘But at the very least you’d learn all kinds of interesting information about where your ancestors are from, so it’s worth the outlay.’

  ‘How do they do it?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s a simple saliva test. They send you a kit in the post and you complete it and send it back.’

  ‘Paul took the test as soon as they started offering it, a few years ago,’ Sheila said. ‘And he did find another branch of the family.’

  ‘It’s quite expensive and I think the chances of it helping Alice are slim,’ Nile said, and then there was one of those long family debates that seemed set to go on for the rest of the evening.

  Partway through it I caught Teddy’s eye and said, ‘Let’s do it!’ And we went into the library, where he signed me up for the DNA testing on the spot, using his account with the website.

  ‘Everything will come here, but I’ll let you know when it does,’ he said.

  I had vague ideas about swabbing the inside of my mouth and sending the cotton bud off in a test tube, or something like that. It had to be easy, if you did it yourself.

  ‘You are kind,’ I said gratefully, and then the others came in and Teddy got out the Giddings family tree to show me. Paul had started it off and now Teddy was working his way further and further back.

  Later, when I was in bed and falling asleep, I decided the DNA test was probably money down the drain, but on the other hand, even tiny amounts of information about my genetic makeup would be more than I knew right now!

  Today when I returned from the surgery and went to visit Father, I found him staring blankly at his computer screen, unable to remember the next move in a game of chess.

  ‘Your memory has been deteriorating of late,’ I said. ‘It would be as well to have your own doctor look at you, for there are interesting advances in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and dementia.’

  ‘Don’t be foolish – as if I wouldn’t know if I had either of those things!’ he snapped. ‘No, I simply had a small memory lapse, which is quite common at my age.’

  He had evidently forgotten all the other lapses, so I could tell that each new one from now on would be, to him, the first, so I said as tactfully as I knew how, ‘Of course – but it wouldn’t hurt to have a check-up, would it?’

  ‘There’s no point – there’s nothing wrong with me,’ he stated adamantly and wouldn’t be budged about it.

  He must realize the decline in his faculties, and is afraid to have his fears confirmed, which is entirely illogical when there might well be medication to slow the rapidity of the symptoms.

  38

  The Birds and the Bees

  Next morning Sheila urged me to rest and get some fresh air, and somehow I found myself walking up the hill towards the Oldstone, hand in hand with a still slightly morose Nile, Honey pottering happily along behind us.

  The weather had mercurially changed and there was a bright sun and only the hint of a breeze. Large clouds were slowly drifting across the light cerulean sky, stately as galleons.

  There was no one else about and potentially we gave ourselves piles by sitting on one of the fallen monoliths to admire the view.

  ‘I wasn’t brought up in Yorkshire, but this area always feels like home,’ Nile said.

  ‘It did to me too, almost as soon as I’d arrived,’ I agreed. ‘I feel somehow rooted, even though I don’t know my past, and I certainly never want to leave.’

  He turned his head and looked at me. ‘Edie told me how you became estranged from your adoptive mother
after your father died, but never really settled anywhere.’

  ‘I almost did once,’ I said wryly. ‘I thought I was going to marry Dan, but I’m not sure that would have ever come off, even if he hadn’t been killed in that accident.’

  ‘Yes, Edie said he’d never got round to divorcing his wife. And I know you had a breakdown …’ He looked at me, his grey eyes serious. ‘She said you needed time to get over him and to learn to trust another man, but that you have a very loving heart.’

  ‘She reads too many romances,’ I said, looking away. ‘And I am over Dan – I won’t forget him, but I’ve moved on from grieving.’

  ‘She’s very shrewd – and she told me a couple of home truths, too!’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked, curiously.

  ‘I’m not saying, though she told me I was getting too old for gallivanting around, and then there was something about hummingbirds and flowers I never quite got my head round. Perhaps you could enlighten me?’

  ‘No idea,’ I said innocently, and he gave me a look, then got up and held out his hand. ‘Let’s flit off back to the car then, flower,’ he said in a passable local accent and called Honey away from an interesting burrow.

  On the way down he said abruptly, ‘You don’t need to worry about Zelda. I hope we’ll always be friends, but I can’t do what she’s asking me. And she’s so strange lately that I’m starting to think I never really knew her at all!’

  ‘Why would I worry about Zelda? I’ve never even met the woman!’ I asked tartly, but he carried on as if I hadn’t spoken.

  ‘You may never meet her, because I definitely want out of the antiques stall now. I’m going to tell her that either we sell up, or she can buy me out, whichever she chooses.’

  He sounded very determined and he still had my hand in a strong grip that now tightened. ‘From now on, I’ll want to spend as much time at home as I can.’

  ‘That’ll make a change.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to see more of me?’ One dark eyebrow rose quizzically.