‘No, probably not.’
Seranne was surprised by her friend’s abrupt dismissal of her chances but presumed it was because her thoughts were on her own problems.
Walking back along the empty lanes on her own, ignoring the dry patches and instead squelshing through the churned up slush that remained, Seranne couldn’t help wishing that Luke was there to walk her home. The night was crisp, a chill wind moaned, and it was very dark. There was only the strange light from the patches of white snow on the verges to guide her, and the trees groaned and creaked in an alarming way, moved by an icy wind that cut through her clothing as it increased in strength. It was with relief that she stepped inside the old house with its own familiar creaks and groans and closed the door against the dark.
There was no sign of Luke on Sunday, for which she was grateful. Perhaps he would stay away now his secret was out. That should have pleased her but it only increased her sensation of loss. On Monday morning the order from Hopkins’s Bakery again failed to arrive and Mrs Rogers went across to see why. Babs explained that Seranne hadn’t given them her list.
‘Nonsense, you must have lost it,’ she said.
‘I didn’t see her before we met for the pictures and she certainly didn’t give it to me then. Ask Tony, he’s responsible for deliveries.’
Tony shook his head and gestured around the almost empty shelves. ‘There’s plenty of bread left and I’ll whip you up some scones. Babs might make some drop scones and pancakes, will that do?’
‘It will have to, won’t it? But take care and get it right for tomorrow or I’ll go somewhere else. You aren’t the only bakery in town remember.’
Babs looked puzzled. ‘It isn’t like Seranne to be careless,’ she said. ‘She was a bit upset, mind. That man Luke Curtis who’s been trying to make a date with her is married. She was angry about that and was hurrying to get to the pictures without seeing him. Perhaps that was why she forgot?’
‘Luke? Seranne and Luke? But surely—’ Mrs Rogers queried.
‘Hardly an excuse for neglecting her job,’ Tony interrupted. ‘The truth is, Seranne worked for her mother for too long and she can’t manage on her own. Just like you,’ he said to Babs. ‘You’ll never get a job, you’re too used to leaning on Mam and Dad and me.’
An argument was avoided by customers coming into the shop and pushing him aside, Babs turned and began to serve. Mrs Rogers returned to the café. They were very busy for the rest of the morning and she forgot her query about Seranne and Luke.
Elsie came home as the last of the snow melted away. Thankfully, Betty was no longer needed to help Ed during the busy periods of the day at the guest house. It had been hard to cope and without Alun, she knew it would have been impossible.
‘Don’t forget to thank him when you see him,’ she reminded Ed. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if he hadn’t been there.’
‘All right, but he gets paid, doesn’t he?’
‘Not enough! He does a lot more than I pay him for.’
‘Fine, but remember he’s only a barman.’
‘What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you glad I’ve got someone I can rely on?’
‘Of course. I’m sorry, but you seem so wrapped up in how good he is, and there’s me trying to cope with an ailing wife who won’t ever get better. It makes you selfish, facing something like this – and don’t say you warned me! I know you were against us marrying. Elsie is a lovely woman, a great companion and I’m not sorry I married her.’
In the next room sitting on a couch from where she could see into the hall and also out at the street, Elsie hid her tears. Lies and carefully worded truths were handed out to her with smiles but she knew the situation, had read the books, talked to other sufferers and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay home much longer. Ed would be all right; he would go back to the Ship with his sister. At least she didn’t have to worry about him.
But there were other matters needing her attention. Everything was in place, she just needed to talk to her doctor and solicitor to make sure her instructions were clear and couldn’t be overturned. She waited until Ed was out and asked the nurse to dial the numbers for her. Ed was always out during mid-morning and with the nurse’s help she could get everything arranged.
Ed went into her room when he got home from his errands and found her sleeping. He sat in the kitchen unaware of the kettle boiling and rattling its lid. It was heartbreaking to see her going through this, aware of there being no escaping its end.
‘Ed, dear, are you there? I can hear the kettle boiling.’
‘Coming my love. I’m making us a nice cup of tea.’ At least he didn’t have to worry about the future. He’d have this place to keep him busy, with visitors to look after to disguise his loneliness when Elsie was gone. He hoped she’d be there for a long time yet, he didn’t find it a chore looking after her, she was so sweet and rarely complained, but when she died, at least he wouldn’t have to go cap in hand and beg Betty to take him back to the Ship.
CHAPTER FIVE
Seranne was deeply upset by the revelation that Luke was a married man. If she were honest, he had never encouraged her to believe there was more than friendship between them, apart from that brief kiss, but surely if that’s all they were he would have mentioned a wife and maybe even a child? Sharing their lives was something friends did, gradually being involved in their personality by what they learnt.
Over the first few days she jumped every time there was a knock at the door, or when someone walked into the café, but gradually she calmed herself, convinced that the truth being revealed had discouraged him. She tried to hold on to her anger but the fact was, she missed him. He was never a regular part of her life but the way he popped up now and then, and seemed to be there whenever he could be of help took the joy out of each day. He had been described as kind and someone who loved helping others, so that was probably all she had been to him, one of the ‘others’ who occasionally accepted his help. But life was sadder because of those few words spoken in innocence by Kitty Jennings that day.
Luke was thinking abut Seranne. He had arrived for their Saturday date and had waited for an hour before accepting that she had taken Kitty’s words at face value and no longer wanted to acknowledge him as a friend. Saddened but not surprised, he tried to put her a bit further from his mind but it was alarmingly difficult to do so.
Thoughts of Seranne led him to thoughts of Paul Curtis. Helping Seranne to accept her mother’s new life had been the beginning of it, but from the little he had so far gathered, Jessie was now another reason for his growing concern. Talking to some of his widespread family he was disturbed by what he learnt.
The factory no longer belonged to Paul, it had been reclaimed by the mortgage providers. He was still acting the role of a wealthy successful man and Luke was beginning to suspect the money he was spending was Jessie’s. Seeing Paul’s car in Cardiff one day when he was visiting one of his own businesses, he waited for him, intending to strike up a conversation and maybe find out what he was doing there. He saw him approaching, carrying a large canvas bag, but then he disappeared into an antiques shop and Luke followed him in.
Standing back looking at some framed maps, he watched as Paul took from the bag several china plates and two elegant vases and a bowl decorated in a beautiful fruit design enhanced generously with gold, which looked, to his inexperienced eyes, like Royal Worcester. Paul was clearly selling them and Luke slipped out of the shop as new customers entered, before Paul saw him. The last time he had seen those items was when they were displayed on the shelves in Jessica’s Victorian Tea Rooms. He waited near by until he saw Paul leave then he went into the shop.
‘Hello, Uncle Ray.’
‘Luke, nice to see you. Go in and make some tea, will you? I’ve been too busy to have a break today.’
Luke fingered the newly purchased china and asked his uncle about them.
‘A man called Paul Curtis sold them to me,’ Ray explained. ‘H
e’s moving from a big house into a flat and has to sell off some of his treasures.’
‘And you’re sure they’re his to sell?’
‘It’s difficult to be sure, you know that, but yes, I think he was genuine.’
‘Will you hold on to them for a day or so, Uncle? I might be wrong, but they belong to his wife, so he’s probably entitled to sell them, but she might not know about it.’
Later that day, Uncle Ray rang the tea rooms and spoke to Paul, who assured him the items were his own. ‘If you’re having second thoughts I’ll cancel the agreement,’ Paul said huffily. ‘I think I can get a pound or two more elsewhere, it’s up to you.’
‘No, no, Mr Curtis. Everything is fine. Thank you.’
Paul smiled at Jessie as he put down the phone. ‘Honestly, some people! That was a customer trying to renege on a deal we made today.’
‘Someone local, dear?’
‘No, I’ve been in Tenby all day and apart from him I had a very satisfactory day. So good that why don’t we have a night out tomorrow? Perhaps a dance later?’
Luke called at the tea rooms late afternoon and saw immediately how differently it was being run. Pat Sewell had taken away all the trimmings that had given the place an air of elegance, including the beautiful china. The place was quiet, the few customers showed that it was no longer a popular place to meet. He ordered a scone and this was handed to him already filled and could not be described as fresh. Paying the woman’s wage, and the reduction in custom must mean that any profit Jessie earned must be greatly reduced.
He saw Jessie as he left and she looked lovely. Dressed up and obviously just on her way out. ‘I’m meeting Paul,’ she explained. ‘We’re going out to dinner then dancing. I have to dash, I’ve sold the car and the bus leaves in ten minutes.’
‘Can I offer you a lift?’ he said at once.
She explained light-heartedly that Paul had pointed out the unnecessary expense of running two cars. ‘And here I am, in trouble straightaway. Thank you, Luke, I hate having to wait for buses, specially as rain is forecast.’
‘Perhaps you should have kept it. Paul can’t be short of money, owning a factory making all those leather goods.’
‘Of course he isn’t short, but it’s silly to keep on extra expense, isn’t it? Paul and I are always together except during the day, and then I don’t need it.’
‘Business good, is it?’
‘Yes. He’s an excellent salesman. He was in Tenby yesterday and he was so pleased with the day he’s taking me out as a sort of celebration. He’s so thoughtful, Luke. I’m very fortunate, having a second chance. Tenby is where we spent our honeymoon and Paul always says it’s a lucky place.’
‘Tenby? I thought I saw him in Cardiff, but I must have been mistaken.’
‘Oh yes. He was definitely in Tenby, hence tonight’s treat.’ Without a glance at the rather untidy place that used to be her pride, she waved to Pat Sewell and went out to the car.
Luke drove to Cardiff after dropping Jessie off at the restaurant where she and Paul were to meet and knocked on the side door of his uncle’s antique shop. ‘I’m still doubtful, Uncle Ray, so will you let me buy them back? Then I can return them if there’s a problem.’
‘More money than sense you got, boy,’ Ray muttered. Agreement was swift and the plates and the bowl were carefully packed and put in Luke’s car. He was thoughtful as he drove home, wondering whether to tell Seranne of his suspicions but eventually decided to follow his own advice and not jump to conclusions. Best to wait and see what happens.
Seranne really wanted the job of managing the café and knowing that Mrs Rogers was leaving, she determined to make her mark. Over the following days she went to work early and by the time Mrs Rogers arrived, she had trays of freshly made scones ready. Once she made drop scones with a few currants and a squeeze of lemon juice. They were very popular and became a regular offering at teatime each day.
Mrs Rogers didn’t accept all her ideas and the chair seat covers were taken away for washing and never returned. ‘Too much trouble,’ was Mrs Rogers’ excuse and even when Seranne offered to launder them herself they never reappeared.
One morning, Seranne was told that the owner, a Mr Griffiths, was coming to interview applicants and Seranne made sure she was early and made her usual batch of scones. Tony came with the bread and cakes they had ordered and sniffed appreciatively as he stepped into the kitchen. ‘Making your famous scones are you?’
‘The interviews are on this morning and I hope to impress Mr Griffiths,’ she said, showing crossed fingers. ‘I don’t suppose it will make much difference, we’ve been very pleased with yours, but it’s a lovely smell and customers like to think they’re made on the premises.’
‘Have many applied for the job?’
‘I don’t know. Three or four? Mrs Rogers sent the names on to Mr Griffiths. I’m hopeful, mind, having worked here for a while.’
‘You know Babs has applied, don’t you?’
Surprised, Seranne frowned. ‘No, why didn’t she tell me?’
‘Embarrassed I expect. If she gets it she’ll be your boss.’
‘I’m sure we’d work together well, but I wish she’d told me.’
‘We want to make changes at the bakery, did she tell you? Dad, Mam and I want to build a new, larger premises and increase the business. Babs won’t hear of it. We all own a share of the family business and she’s afraid her investment will fall. Lacking in imagination, my sister.’
‘No one likes changes, but we sometimes have them forced on us, then you have to do everything you can to make them work.’
Everything? A thought not spoken. Tony looked thoughtful as she went through into the café to unlock the door and let Mrs Rogers in. As he walked through the kitchen to collect the empty trays, on impulse he turned up the oven a notch or two before he went out.
A few moments later Babs came in, obviously aware that Seranne now knew of her application. ‘Sorry, Seranne, I should have told you we’d applied for the same job.’
‘Yes, you should. But I can’t stop and talk now, we’ll meet later. What time is your interview?’
Before Babs replied, Mrs Rogers called for some help and Seranne went into the café to collect used dishes and Babs went out through the kitchen and returned to the baker’s shop.
The café attracted a large number of early morning people. Many came to meet friends and have a warming drink before visiting the shops. Some came instead of eating at home before going to work. The first of the scones were quickly sold and it wasn’t until Mrs Rogers went to check on the progress of the next lot that she went into the kitchen and found them burning.
‘Seranne! What were you thinking of? The gas is much too high and they’re ruined.’
Seranne rushed in and they were both staring at the smoking ruins, as Mr Griffiths walked in.
‘It seems I’ve chosen the wrong moment,’ he said.
Things went from bad to worse as the interviews took place. Seranne was so nervous and upset by the burnt scones that she dropped a plate of beans on toast and gave a customer coffee when she had ordered tea. She was almost consumed with anger towards Babs. It was an effort to be pleasant to the customers. Whatever Luke might say, this time her anger was justified, there really was someone to blame. How could Babs do such a thing?
When Babs came in for her interview and waved at her, Seranne ignored her, convinced that it had been she who had turned up the heat in the oven. The opportunity had been there and who else would have done such a mean thing? How could a friend do that? As her friend left she overheard Mrs Rogers saying, ‘Don’t worry, Babs, even though you’re without real experience, I’ll make sure Mr Griffiths knows how suitable you are.’
Before the lunchtime rush, Mr Griffiths sat her down in the kitchen and asked her why she wanted the job. She had worked out the kind of questions likely to come up and had prepared answers, but the day had been so traumatic that her mind was filled with confusion.<
br />
Aware of her distress, he asked simple questions at first: how long she had lived in Cwm Derw and whether she liked living at Badgers Brook, and gradually she calmed down enough to explain about her mother’s tea rooms and her own desire to improve the business by trying to emulate that success.
‘So, burnt scones and food served on the floor instead of the usual plate isn’t the plan?’ he said, and she looked up to see he was smiling.
‘I really don’t know what happened. I’m sure I had set the oven correctly,’ was all she said. She would talk to Babs later and make her tell the truth.
‘I have a few applicants to consider, and I’ll let you know my decision by the end of the week,’ he said offering his hand. She thanked him and flopped back into her seat, exhausted.
‘Don’t worry,’ Mrs Rogers said. ‘I had a word and told him how excellent you are.’
She might have found that comforting had she not heard her saying something similar to Babs Hopkins.
She phoned her mother and spoke at first to Paul, who seemed edgy and unresponsive to her complaints about her friend. ‘Don’t give up your independence,’ he advised. ‘Better to work for Babs than lose your job.’ It was very clear that he didn’t want her to return home.
When she spoke to her mother she was more sympathetic but echoed Paul’s comments. Then she said, ‘Luke was here yesterday. He was more talkative than usual, asked a lot of questions. You didn’t send him did you, dear? You’d tell me if you had any worries, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course I didn’t send Luke! I hardly know the man and wouldn’t send anyone to spy. There’s no need, is there? We tell each other everything, don’t we?’ She paused but Jessie said nothing. ‘Everything is all right, is it Mum? You aren’t short of money, now the tea rooms aren’t as busy?’
‘Of course we aren’t short of money. What a question. Paul is building up a list of new clients, planning to open a new business and the tea rooms is still a good business, less work for me, that was Paul’s motive for the changes. We share everything, darling. And I’m blissfully happy.’
Time to Move On Page 10
