It’s Nicole’s birthday today, thought Will, as he took his waxed coat down from the peg and noticed the date on the calendar next to it. Last year he was on a sunny beach in Bali with her, this year he was having fish and chips with his landlady. His money troubles had been just starting to become uncontrollable. His head had been full of worry as he stared out across the blue sea and wished he hadn’t blown so much cash on the holiday. Nicole was oblivious to everything but the sun and the opulence. The only night he’d slept properly was the night he got blasted on two of the bottles of ridiculously expensive champagne that Nicole had ordered, and even then he woke up worrying how much his hangover had cost.
And yet he was sleeping like a log in Dundealin in his new cheap bed. There was still a lot of paperwork to sort out from the loss of his business and the sale of all his assets but now he could see the distant glow of a lighthouse, guiding him to security.
Despite the rain, despite the lack of champagne, despite the absence of his trophy spendthrift wife, at the moment Will Linton really didn’t feel that a fish and chip supper with a pretty, kind lady such as Carla was a comedown from his past life. His comforts were small, but by God they felt good.
Chapter 59
The next morning Carla was aware that she was walking around Little Kipping Stores with a big fat smile on her face, a lovely residue from the evening she had spent in Dundealin with Will, a bottle of wine, a pot of tea and two lots of fish and chips. Talking with him and eating together in the convivial kitchen as outside, the rain had lashed at the window, had lifted her spirits unbelievably. They’d talked some more about Martin and Nicole and they’d laughed. Carla would never have thought she could find any humour in her situation, but Will Linton had located it like a heat-seeking missile. Will’s take on Mavis Marple, the vicar with the Louis Spence voice and two rival wives both brandishing red roses had her belly-laughing. Then he started taking a comedic view of his own story – telling her everything from walking in to find his house stripped of its contents, including the box of Christmas baubles, to storming over to greedy Nicole’s parents’ house and being chased up the staircase by her blubbery dad. It had been the sort of evening both of them needed. She had gone to bed delighted that Will Linton was her lodger.
As Carla turned into the bread aisle, she saw a familiar figure studying loaves.
‘Fancy meeting you here,’ said Carla, deliberately nudging her trolley gently into Molly’s.
‘Oh, hello dear,’ said Molly. ‘Where were you on Tuesday? We did miss you. Harvey and Pavitar got far too animated discussing Howard’s End.’ Carla burst out laughing which in turn made Molly chuckle. ‘If you know what I mean,’ Molly added. ‘It’s Bram Stoker day next Tuesday. You will be coming, I hope?’
‘I shall,’ replied Carla adamantly. ‘Alas I had some temporary work last week. In a bank.’
‘Sounds fun,’ said Molly, flatly, whilst raising her eyebrows.
‘Oh, it was fabulous,’ nodded Carla in mock agreement. ‘Harvey okay?’
‘He seems very well, touch wood, thank you. Though I’m not quite sure if these literary discussions are good for him. He isn’t a great lover of E. M. Forster, though it appears Pavitar is, very much so. We could have done with a referee at one point.’
‘I’m sure they’re very good for him,’ smiled Carla.
‘Maybe in moderation, but Pavitar was as defensive over the writer’s plot devices as Harvey was scathing. It wasn’t pretty.’ She shook her head and sighed.
‘They didn’t really fall out, did they?’
‘Oh no, Carla. Normal service was resumed as soon as the cake was served up. The moment of truce was a welcome one on that day.’
Carla shrugged. ‘I’m so sorry I missed it, though I don’t think I would have been able to contribute much. I’ve only ever seen A Room with a View on the TV and I could have taken it or left it, to be honest.’
‘Like me then, on the fence on this one,’ smiled Molly.
She looks lovely today, thought Carla. Molly was wearing a pale blue dress with a green cardigan resting on her shoulders. Her eyes were dark blue and shining.
‘Harvey is watching a cricket match. I have absolutely no interest in the game,’ said Molly, waving the sport away with her long elegant hand. ‘I thought I’d use the time to stock up on a few things, not that we need anything really except a loaf of bread.’
‘I just nipped out for some cat food and milk,’ said Carla. ‘Shall we go for a coffee at the Teashop on the Corner? Do you have time?’
‘Oh I’d like that very much,’ replied Molly with delight. ‘I’ll pay for these and meet you up there.’
Leni and Ryan were restocking the cabinets when Carla walked in.
‘Oh good morning,’ beamed Leni. ‘You were much missed last week. I nearly had to phone the army.’
‘I’ve just met Molly in the supermarket and she was telling me,’ laughed Carla. ‘She’ll be here in a moment. We thought we’d have a coffee together.’
‘Lovely to see you. You weren’t ill, were you?’
Bless, thought Carla. It was nice to have people concerned about her.
‘No, I was doing some temp work. Data entry.’
Leni pulled a face. Even Ryan pulled a face.
‘Yep, it was that good,’ nodded Carla. ‘Don’t let me stop you, I’ll wait for Molly,’ she added, seeing Leni about to rise from her knees.
‘We’ve just had some beautiful poetry-themed things delivered,’ said Leni, resuming her kneeling place. ‘Cufflinks, wallets, ties, notebooks, address books, desk calendars. I’ve been thinking how very handsome Lord Byron was. Ryan, would you be a love and fetch me the Stanley knife from the back room please?’
‘Bit of a bugg . . . bad boy with the ladies,’ replied Carla, correcting herself mid-sentence. She waited for Ryan to be out of earshot then said quietly, ‘Still, I would, wouldn’t you?’
Leni chuckled. ‘He was rather gorgeous, if his portraits do him justice.’
‘Prefer Keats’ stuff,’ said Ryan, coming back holding the knife.
‘Oh, do you now?’ Leni winked at Carla. ‘And which is your favourite of the Keats poems?’
‘“The Pot of Basil”,’ replied Ryan without having to think. ‘There’s some dodgy lines in it but it stuck in my mind.’
Then Molly walked in and brought a blast of warm sunshiney air in with her.
‘Hello Molly,’ greeted Leni, now standing up. ‘Ryan’s just been telling us that his favourite poem by Keats is “The Pot of Basil”. Have you heard of it?’
‘It’s the one where the woman plants her dead lover’s head in a pot and grows herbs in it,’ Ryan grinned.
‘Ugh,’ said Molly and Carla together.
‘Of all the lovely poems that Keats wrote and you pick that one out, Ryan,’ tutted Molly. She saw Ryan stifling a giggle as she picked up the menu and fanned herself with it.
‘My, it’s warm outside,’ Molly said. ‘That storm last night has really cleared the air.’
‘I’d like a pot of vanilla tea, please,’ asked Carla. ‘I think that will be more refreshing than coffee today. Nothing to eat for me. I had fish and chips last night and I think I’m still digesting them.’
‘I haven’t had fish and chips for ages,’ said Molly, drawing in a whistle. ‘Make that pot for two. Sounds lovely.’
As Leni poured hot water over the vanilla tea-leaves she noticed Shaun through the window. He was wearing khaki combat trousers that showed off strong calves and a white short-sleeved T-shirt that stretched over his muscular frame. Leni dragged her eyes back to the task in hand. She found herself secretly looking at Shaun McCarthy too much these days.
‘Why don’t you take a break, Ryan? Grab yourself a piece of cake and there’s some cans of pop in the back fridge,’ she said.
‘Can I go and sit on the grass outside?’ he asked.
‘Of course you can.’
‘So Ryan, when do you break up for the summer holi
days?’ asked Molly as he lifted the dome up over a very tall chocolate cake and began to cut himself a slice.
‘End of July,’ he said.
‘Are you going on holiday?’ asked Carla.
He looked at them both as if they were mad. ‘No. We don’t go on holiday.’
Carla and Molly and Leni exchanged glances of silent sympathy. Every one of them could have hugged the boy.
‘Well, you can always make up for that,’ said Molly with a rush of positivity. ‘I didn’t really go anywhere until I was in my twenties. I was over forty when I went on a plane for the first time.’
‘I’d like to travel,’ said Ryan, going into the back for a drink. ‘I will, one day.’
‘Good for you,’ said Leni, bringing a tea tray over to her customers.
Carla poured. Leni had given them an accompanying plate of tiny cherry shortbread biscuits. Life felt good today. It was as if some of the outdoor sunshine had found its way inside her. Ryan took his cake and can and went to sit on the grass square outside the shop.
‘What a lovely boy,’ said Molly, her eyes following his slight frame. There was something about the lad that made the tears well up in her eyes. She thought of what Harvey had told her about his early loveless life with not a lot of food on the table.
‘He is,’ Leni agreed.
Molly wiped her eyes on a serviette, apologising to the others as she did so.
‘Don’t you worry,’ said Carla, reaching over to give her arm a comforting rub. She suspected – rightly – that Molly was ready for crumbling under the pressure of trying to be brave.
‘Oh, I feel silly,’ said Molly, sniffing back tears that refused to stop. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’
‘Is it Harvey?’ asked Leni. ‘Is that what’s upsetting you, Molly?’
Molly dropped her head and nodded.
‘Oh, you poor love.’ Leni handed her a fresh serviette.
‘He’s fine, the picture of health,’ half-laughed Molly then. ‘He gets a little tired now and then but he seems far more robust than the rules say he should be. It’s me who’s losing sleep.’
‘What exactly is wrong with him?’ Carla asked softly.
‘It’s a heart condition,’ replied Molly. ‘Nothing can be done except to keep up with the medication. I feel as if I’m living with a time bomb. He’s accepted what’s going to happen, I can’t.’
Molly wiped furiously at her eyes. They were starting to become sore. She was angry for disgracing herself in public like this.
‘Trying to keep a stiff upper lip constantly must be very difficult,’ said Leni, taking a seat next to Molly.
‘It is,’ Molly agreed. She didn’t add that she thought she was losing it and that she’d been on the brink of accusing Harvey of stealing her jewellery when he hadn’t. At least he hadn’t this time. And from what he said recently, he didn’t believe he had stolen from her before either. That had confused her. She didn’t know if he was wily or going funny in the head as well.
Carla nudged the cup of tea closer to Molly’s hand. ‘Have a drink,’ she urged, then immediately felt annoyed with herself. As if a slurp of tea would make this situation any better. And she thought she had problems not being able to get a job. But Molly lifted the cup to her lips anyway.
‘That’s lovely,’ she said.
‘How British of us,’ smiled Leni softly. ‘Cup of tea cures all.’
Molly let loose an unexpected burst of laughter. ‘How kind you both are,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Anytime you want to escape and have some space, you come here,’ said Leni.
‘Look, here’s my mobile number,’ said Carla, scribbling onto a serviette. ‘You call me if you want a natter. And don’t think twice about it.’
Ryan came back in and Molly turned her head away so that the boy couldn’t witness that she had been crying.
‘That was quick,’ said Leni.
‘It’s too hot,’ he said. ‘I like it better inside.’
‘You could do with some sun on that pale skin,’ Carla teased him. And some meat on your bones, she added mentally.
‘I suit being this colour,’ he grinned. ‘My dad’s girlfriend is orange. Except for her hands that are whiter than me.’
Carla let loose a hoot of laughter and Molly’s and Leni’s joined it. It was a moment of jollity that was well needed and they all blessed young Ryan for giving it to them.
Chapter 60
Leni was pinning up another postcard when Molly and Harvey walked into the teashop.
‘Oh please let me see,’ said Harvey. ‘Where is she now?’
‘Don’t be so nosey, Harvey Hoyland,’ Molly admonished him.
Leni handed over the postcard. She had cut the stamp out of the corner as usual.
Dear Mum, and Mr Bingley,
Greetings from Crete. Glorious sunshine yet again. People wonderful, doing lots of swimming in the sea. Loads to do. Wish you were here with me.
Lots of love, Anne. XX
‘Ah, Crete. What a lovely island. Not my favourite but close to the top.’
‘That reminds me,’ said Molly, opening her handbag. ‘I’ve got a bag of stamps for you to add to your collection for the blind dogs. Only ordinary first and second class, I’m afraid. No foreign ones.’
‘Blind dogs?’ Harvey laughed until he set himself off coughing.
‘Oh, you know what I mean.’ Molly sighed as she thought about Anne’s postcard. ‘How lovely to be young with all your life in front of you. I planned to do so much with mine. Funny how it works out in the end.’
Mr Singh was already in situ and pouring a cup of tea. ‘At last, my literary friends are here for Bram Stoker Tuesday.’
‘Don’t you go working yourself up,’ Molly gave Harvey a quiet warning as he sat down. ‘I don’t think Bram Stoker would appreciate your death on his conscience.’
‘Oh sit down, woman,’ twinkled Harvey. ‘I feel as if my heart could go on forever when I’m battling with Pavitar.’
Mr Bingley was asleep on the next chair and Molly gave him a stroke. He woke up momentarily, though not enough to open his eyes. He raised his head lazily and then replaced it on his paws.
‘The specials today are Vampire red velvet cake and Whitby white chocolate and raspberry pie,’ Leni announced.
‘I’ll have them both,’ chuckled Harvey, casting his arm in a large flamboyant arc.
‘You will not,’ said Molly.
‘Not good for the body but very good for the soul,’ said Mr Singh, lifting up a spoonful of the white chocolate pie to his lips.
‘I’m past caring about that,’ replied Harvey, banging his chest wall. ‘Restrictive cardiomyopathy. With complications. Doctors can do bugger all which gives me more or less carte blanche to do what I like.’
‘Really?’ said Pavitar Singh, putting down his spoon. ‘Are you taking your medication regularly?’
‘I am,’ Harvey said firmly. ‘I am not, however, going for check-ups just to be prodded and poked. I hate hospitals. I hate waiting around in hospitals watching thin, poorly people in cheap dressing gowns. I hate drips, medicines, those bleepy machines, the food. I never realised that anyone could make such a cock-up of marrowfat peas but they seem to manage it in hospital.’
‘Then perhaps we should not argue so forcibly,’ said Pavitar Singh.
‘Oh yes we should,’ replied Harvey, wagging his finger. ‘You won’t use the poorly card against me. I thought better of you than that, Pavitar.’
‘As you wish. Prepare for war then, friend.’
Mr Singh lifted up his cup and toasted Harvey’s prolonged good health. Harvey was grateful that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to lecture him. Pavitar Singh was already high up in his estimations, but he went a little further for not pulling out the doctor advantage and using it.
Leni had just served Harvey and Molly with tea and cake when Carla walked in.
‘Oh Carla, turn back and go out,’ Molly waved at her.
‘It’s about to kick off in here this morning.’
Carla smiled and wasn’t deterred.
‘Good morning,’ said Mr Singh and Harvey together.
‘Morning. And what trouble are you two causing today?’
‘Well, it’s Bram Stoker day, although I think our conversation could extend to other books about the supernatural,’ said Harvey, pulling down on his jacket lapels as if he were a professor about to deliver a lecture.
‘Like what?’ asked Carla, taking a seat next to Mr Bingley.
‘Cathy’s haunting of Heathcliff,’ Harvey replied.
‘And Jane Eyre, hearing Rochester calling out her name three times when she is on the brink of saying that she will marry Mr St John Rivers,’ added Mr Singh.
‘Frankenstein,’ Carla clicked her fingers with enlightenment.
‘Marley’s ghost,’ suggested Molly.
‘Coffee?’ Leni mouthed at her.
‘Yes please and a slice of . . . is that red velvet cake?’
‘It’s vampire cake,’ winked Leni.
‘Of course it is. I’ll have that please.’
‘I do like a bit of the supernatural in my books,’ admitted Pavitar. ‘I am quite fascinated by psychic phenomena.’
‘Molly’s twin sister is a psychic,’ said Harvey without thinking, much to Molly’s obvious horror. He immediately covered his mouth with his hand. ‘Sorry, I forgot it was a secret.’
But it was too late. All eyes were eagerly fixed on Molly to explain.
‘Big mouth,’ grumbled Molly.
‘Molly, I am so sorry,’ said Harvey, but his apology was making everyone extra keen to discover to what he had been referring.
‘She isn’t a vampire, is she?’ asked Pavitar with a twinkle in his large brown eyes.
‘Well, Molly?’ said Carla. ‘You can’t leave us in suspense like this.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said Molly, wafting her hand as if she was wasting everyone’s time by trying to explain. ‘She just . . . sees things.’
‘Dead people,’ put in Harvey, much to Molly’s added annoyance.
The Teashop on the Corner Page 21
