The Teashop on the Corner

by Milly Johnson

  Chapter 109

  Leni walked into Anne’s room with an armful of blue sheets and a blue quilt cover. The material was a print of old boys’ adventure books.

  She put them down on the chair and started to strip the pink covers off the bed but found she couldn’t do it. This was Anne’s room. It was here waiting for her to return. There would be no place for her to sleep if this became Ryan’s room. And it would start becoming that if she took off the pink covers and put blue ones on.

  She looked around at his few possessions, sharing space with Anne’s knick-knacks. There was a letter on the desk bearing the school insignia on the right hand side. She picked it up and read it.

  Dear Ryan

  We are happy to announce that you have been chosen to receive the year literary prize as recommended by your English teacher Mr Birtwistle. This is a tremendous achievement, especially as this is the third year in succession for which you have won it. There will be a prize-giving ceremony on Monday 15th July at 11am if you would like to invite your parents.

  Well done, Ryan. Your head of year Mr Threlfall and myself are delighted for you.

  A Brookland

  Principal

  Monday. Ryan hadn’t said a word to her. But then again, why should he? She wasn’t his parent. She doubted anyone had ever been to school to witness him receiving a prize. Maybe he just didn’t expect anyone to support him. It crossed her mind that he had deliberately left it there for her to see, but she didn’t think Ryan had it in him to be that artful.

  She was getting too involved with the boy, she knew. She couldn’t let him replace Anne.

  She took a deep breath, whipped off the pink sheets and put on the blue as quickly as possible. Her eyes rained tears as she did so.

  Chapter 110

  Molly stayed with her sister and Bernard until she felt strong enough to return to her house on Monday. They reluctantly let her go.

  Molly pushed open the door to Willowfell expecting to feel Harvey’s presence lingering there, but she didn’t. It was as if he had never been there. He had moved on, taking every trace of him away, as he had done twenty-eight years ago. But this time she didn’t feel sad and weakened but strong and empowered. She had things to look forward to. Live was for the living, he had told her and she was going to make damned sure she lived it to the full over the next years.

  The answering machine was flashing that a message had been recorded. Molly pressed the button to retrieve it and primed herself to hear Sherry’s whine, but she was wrong.

  Hello, this is Sylvia again with a message for Mr Harvey Hoyland. Could you please give me a ring on Barnsley 543878.

  Molly remembered that the woman had rung before. She picked up the phone and dialled. A cheery young female voice answered.

  ‘Good morning, Waterhouse and White. Can I help you?’

  ‘Erm, yes, could I please speak to Sylvia.’

  ‘Yep. I’ll just get her for you.’

  Waterhouse and White? Were they solicitors? The name rang a faint bell but Molly couldn’t think where she had heard it before.

  ‘Sylvia speaking.’ It was the woman who had left the messages.

  ‘Hello,’ began Molly. ‘I wonder if you can help me. You’ve left a couple of messages for Mr Harvey Hoyland at this number asking him to return your call.’

  ‘Ye-es.’ Sylvia’s voice acquired an immediate tone of caution.

  ‘I’m afraid he passed away,’ said Molly.

  ‘Oh dear, I am sorry,’ said Sylvia. Concern now ruling her tone. ‘Am I speaking to Molly?’

  Molly’s forehead puckered in confusion. ‘Yes. Yes, you are.’

  ‘Would you be able to come to the shop?’ said Sylvia. ‘You’ll need to bring a form of ID with you but I have something for you. I’ll explain when you arrive.’

  Sylvia was there to meet Molly when she arrived at Waterhouse and White, which was a jewellers tucked away on a back street off Old Sheffield Road. It was a shop that belonged to another era: very old-fashioned, with a pawn division around the back. Tens of clocks hung on the walls, tick-tocking the time.

  Sylvia shook her hand and smiled sympathetically. ‘Would you come through to my office,’ she requested, lifting up a wooden leaf attached to the counter so that Molly could follow her into a small back room furnished with an old desk, a chair at either side of it.

  Sylvia closed the door to afford them some privacy.

  ‘I’m very intrigued by all this,’ said Molly.

  ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ said Sylvia. ‘I wish we could have got this to him sooner. But, these things do take time. Hopefully we’ve done him proud. Would you mind if I saw some identification? Protocol, I’m afraid.’

  Molly took out her passport, two utility bills and her driving licence but Sylvia was satisfied enough with the first form of ID. As Molly was putting everything back in her handbag, Sylvia reached down and unlocked a drawer at the side of her. She took out a package and out of this, she brought a small dark blue oval box and set it on the table in front of Molly.

  ‘Mr Hoyland was most specific about the design. He said it was “in keeping”.’

  Molly reached over and lifted the velvet box. She opened it to reveal an eternity ring set with oval sapphires and diamonds. It would have matched her beautiful engagement ring, had her son not stolen it.

  Her hand flew up to her mouth and she hiccupped a sob.

  ‘It’s . . .’ she couldn’t find the word as she lifted it out. It fitted her ring finger exactly.

  ‘He brought some rings in with him to check the size,’ said Sylvia. ‘I’m so glad it fits. It’s the nicest eternity ring I think I’ve seen. So exquisitely simple. He was so excited about giving it to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Molly, hardly able to raise any volume in her voice.

  ‘He was quite a man, arranging that in secret for you, wasn’t he? Such a romantic thing to do for someone you love,’ said Sylvia, handing Molly a box of tissues.

  ‘He was one of a kind,’ replied Molly with a tearful smile. ‘Just like this ring.’

  Chapter 111

  ‘And the Literacy prize goes to a young man who is a star in the making. Ryan O’Gowan has secured this award for the third year running. Ryan, come up and receive your prize.’

  Ryan stood up to applause from his peers, teachers and other parents at the back of the school hall, hearing one set of hands clapping more loudly than the rest of the others put together.

  ‘Well done, Ryan.’

  He recognised the voice above the noise, ringing out like a bell. He looked to the side and he saw her in the crowd, her big smile, her proud eyes, her bright red coat and his heart leapt so high that it threatened to jump out of his mouth. He visibly started to glow, with gratitude, with love as he accepted his prize from the Principal, shaking both his hand and that of his Head of Year, then stood between them whilst they posed for a photograph for the school halls of fame. He waved to Leni, his eyes shining. He didn’t think he had ever felt happier. This was a mint day – which would be made better only by the fact that there was a brand new Kindle wrapped up in blue paper on his bed awaiting his return.

  Chapter 112

  Molly was sitting in the garden imagining Harvey going into Waterhouse and White with a design for the ring that he might never see her wearing. She was studying the bright diamonds and the dark blue sapphires, moving her hand this way and that so the sunlight twinkled and bounced off them, when she heard the squeak of the back gate opening. She looked up to see Pavitar Singh.

  ‘I am not disturbing you, am I?’ he asked with caution. ‘I knocked at the front door but heard no answer.’

  ‘Dear Pavitar, come over and sit down,’ said Molly. ‘How lovely to see you. Can I get you something to drink?’

  ‘No, I don’t want anything,’ said Pavitar, bending over Molly and kissing her cheek. ‘I came to see how you were.’

  ‘I’m very well,’ smiled Molly, patting the space at her side on
the swinging bench. ‘Enjoying this beautiful summer day.’

  It had been a week since the funeral. Pavitar hadn’t expected to see her at the tearoom, but he was concerned, all the same.

  ‘I was just thinking that I should go out and visit my friends again,’ said Molly.

  ‘We have missed you,’ said Pavitar.

  ‘It’s funny, but I’ve been smiling more than I’ve been grieving this past week. I’ve even been looking at holiday brochures. I promised to take Harvey to Venice.’

  ‘I am going to the United States to see my daughter and my new grandchild when he or she arrives,’ said Pavitar.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ said Molly.

  ‘I thought I would stay for some time then fly to Canada and cruise to Alaska.’

  Molly’s jaw dropped open. ‘My, what a trip that would be.’

  ‘Well, you are very welcome to come with me,’ laughed Pavitar. ‘A more charming travelling companion I cannot think of.’

  Molly’s laugh chimed along with his.

  ‘I’ll go and pack my bag right now.’

  Pavitar stopped laughing. ‘Really, Molly. Why don’t you come with me?’

  Molly stopped laughing too. ‘Seriously?’

  Pavitar threw his arms up. ‘Why not? My family would make you most welcome.’

  Molly raised her eyebrows and let loose a giggle.

  ‘Why not indeed,’ she grinned. She clapped her hands down on her legs. ‘Yes. I will.’

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ chuckled Pavitar. ‘I only came to bring you some news and now I am going to Alaska with you.’

  ‘Oh. What news is that?’ asked Molly.

  Pavitar took a letter out of his pocket. ‘This arrived on Tuesday. I’m so excited about it. Look.’

  Molly read:

  Dear Pavitar

  Thank you for recommending The Tearoom in the Corner for the Daily Trumpet Award for Most Welcoming Café in South Yorkshire award. You may wish to attend the venue on Tuesday 23 July at eleven a.m., as it has been chosen as the winner and we would like to interview you on site and take photographs. We would ask that you keep this information to yourselves so we can employ the element of surprise to the café owner who I understand is Miss Lorraine Merryman.

  Best Wishes

  Jeremy Spector

  Editor

  ‘Oh that’s lovely, Pavitar,’ she said. ‘Give or take the errors. Such a good bit of news after all that has happened.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I rang and put them right on all the mistakes.’ He lifted Molly’s hand into his own. ‘You look as if you have lost some weight, dear Molly.’

  ‘I probably have lost a bit,’ she sighed. ‘But I shall have an enormous slice of cake tomorrow morning at the teashop. I promise. And I shall be all right, yes. I’m going to make sure I have a lot of things to look forward to. Now, have a cup of tea with me, Pavitar. I’ve missed our chats. Are you reading any good books at the moment?’

  And Molly and Pavitar sat in the sunshine, drinking tea and talking. As good friends do.

  Chapter 113

  Whilst making cakes, the night before Virginia Woolf Tuesday, Leni bobbed her head out of the kitchen to check on Ryan. He was lying on his stomach on the sofa, reading his new Kindle, Mr Bingley a huge contented ginger cushion on his back. The sight of him brought a flurry of tears to Leni’s eyes. How much longer would she be allowed to keep him? She really did need to alert the authorities, she knew. She had avoided Shaun for over a week now, knowing that he was bound to ask what was happening.

  It would be the end of the summer term on Friday. She couldn’t expect Ryan to go to the teashop with her every day for six weeks, but she couldn’t leave him alone in the house whilst she worked. Maybe she should go part-time in the summer, or set someone on to help? It was all getting horribly complicated. And there was Anne to think about too. She didn’t want Anne slipping into the background. Anne was her daughter, her priority.

  Ryan’s certificate of achievement was framed and hanging on the lounge wall. Leslie O’Gowan had torn up the certificates from the other years and they were past salvaging, so Leni had made a plaque to stick on the bottom reading ‘Three Years Running’.

  Shaun’s warning that she would be heading for a heap of trouble if she didn’t do this the right and proper way was ringing louder in her head with every day that passed. She made the decision that tomorrow she would ring the authorities and hope and pray that they’d do the right thing for Ryan and find him a good home. He shouldn’t be with her, really. She didn’t want him caught up in the big swirling dark mess that was her life.

  Chapter 114

  On the big day, Pavitar picked up Molly at ten o’clock and they called in at The Lucky Flower Company to tell Carla and Will what was going to be happening at eleven. Will immediately went over to inform Shaun. The advertising would be good for the whole of Spring Hill Square. Shaun had news of his own – he’d just had a call from the local housing developer John Silkstone asking about subcontracting some roofing work. Shaun said he was too busy, but he knew a man who might want the job. Will thought he might buy his landlady’s lucky black cat a large slice of salmon for his tea tonight. Things were definitely on the up for him.

  Carla was equally as smiley. So far she and Will had been to the cinema, the theatre and had two dinner dates. No, they hadn’t slept together, she had told a giddy Theresa over coffee, they were both enjoying taking things very slowly. Carla was as skippy as a teenager and the news that lovely Leni had won an award for the Teashop on the Corner was the cherry on today’s cake. Even if it was an award issued by the Daily Trumpet, the most inept newspaper known to man. She half-expected them not to turn up here at eleven because they had gone to a café in Rotherham.

  Leni was delighted to see Molly and gave her a huge hug when she entered with Pavitar and Carla.

  ‘It’s so good to be back,’ said Molly with a happy sigh. ‘Harvey loved it here.’

  ‘I had so many arguments still to have with him,’ Pavitar nodded regretfully.

  Leni busied herself making tea and coffee, glad of the opportunity to be doing something that took her mind away from the awful task she needed to do that day. She had phoned social services once that morning but put the phone down as soon as it connected. She was too preoccupied to realise that Molly and Pavitar were looking out of the window a lot and Carla was sitting in the tearoom long after she had finished her coffee. She didn’t even notice when her three customers started to grin like loons and nudge each other. Leni had no idea what was happening when the teashop door opened and a bunch of strangers bearing recording equipment strode in.

  ‘Leonora Merryman?’ asked a woman with a microphone, walking up to her. ‘Hi, I’m Ailsa Shaw from Trumpet FM.’

  A photographer at Ailsa’s shoulder levelled his camera at Leni and there was a flash.

  ‘Congratulations, Leonora Merryman of the Coffee Shop in the Corner of Spring Hill Square. You have won the Daily Trumpet Most Welcoming Café in South Yorkshire award. Now, folks, this is a big surprise for Leonora who doesn’t know anything about it. What are your immediate thoughts, Leonora?’

  Leni’s face seemed to drain of colour before Carla’s eyes. She didn’t look wholly comfortable with all this attention.

  ‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’ was all Leni managed.

  The photographer was adjusting his camera and setting up a remote flash on the counter.

  ‘Absolutely gobsmacked,’ reported a delighted Ailsa. ‘Now how long has the Coffee Shop on the Corner been here?’

  Clearly annoyed by the inaccuracy, Pavitar stepped forward. ‘Excuse me, it’s the Teashop on the Corner,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ gushed Ailsa. ‘The Teashop on the Corner, folks. We’re on live broadcast so remember it’s the Teashop not the . . . whatever I said before.’

  Leni’s totally frozen voice was no good for a live broadcast, so Ailsa turned back to Pavitar.

  ‘We’re going to have a word wi
th one of the teashop’s satisfied customers. And your name, sir?’

  ‘Pavitar Singh,’ he replied proudly. ‘And this is the best café in the world, never mind South Yorkshire. Leni Merryman makes the most delicious tea and cakes on the planet.’

  Ailsa let loose a tinkly laugh. ‘Leonora is clearly in a state of delighted shock, folks. Remember to buy the Daily Trumpet on Thursday and see for yourself where we are today in our new supplement. Those cakes look fantastic. Are they home-made, Leonora?’

  ‘Yes,’ Leni replied, the word flat.

  There is something wrong here, thought Carla. Leni was beyond uncomfortable. No one else seemed to notice how startled Leni appeared by the camera lens. It was the first time that Carla had seen her without a smile on her face. Leni looked totally bewildered, like an animal used to cover which had been suddenly exposed. Then Shaun walked in and Carla could tell immediately that he saw Leni’s trauma too.

  The photographer started taking pictures of Leni as Ailsa walked around the teashop and began to report what was in the cabinets to the listeners of Trumpet FM. Pavitar and Molly were chatting to her, pointing out the gifts, and then they moved on to the wall of postcards from Anne.

  Carla watched Leni trying to pose for photographs, her great big mud-coloured eyes reflecting the worst kind of discomfort and felt awash with guilt that she had been complicit in all this. She wanted to bundle her friend out of the door and rescue her but she was trapped within a cage of strangers.

  The photographer was asking Leni to cut a slice of cake. He took a picture of her handing it over to Ailsa, then snapped one of the spaghetti-thin reporter eating it with an orgasmic look on her face.

  Another girl with a pad was trailing behind Ailsa taking notes.