The Little Teashop of Lost and Found by Ashley, Trisha (26)

26

Perfectly Preserved

Lola drove herself up on Thursday and since the skip had departed again, we managed to squeeze her small hatchback into the parking place next to my old Beetle, while still leaving room for Nile, who appeared to have gone off somewhere early.

He was certainly home last night, though, because the flat lights were on. I think I’m becoming a curtain twitcher …

There were no workmen around, though Jack would be in later after another job, bringing the tiles we’d chosen for the kitchen and customer cloakrooms, and I knew Ross would begin sanding the café floorboards next morning, which sounded like another noisy kind of day.

We took Lola’s overnight bag up to the flat and I gave her a guided tour, which, given the size of the place, took all of five minutes.

Then I made coffee and sampled some of the contents of the whole basket of tiny jars of jams, preserves, pickles and chutneys she’d brought for me to try. They were all so delicious that I decided that, as well as using them for the teas, I’d sell them from the counter in the café, too.

Lola showed me a picture on her iPad of the display stands she’d had made for stockists who were taking a range of Dolly and Lola’s products.

‘I haven’t got room for a stand in the tearoom, but I wonder if Bel and Sheila would be interested in having one in their waffle house next spring?’ I suggested. ‘Remember I told you about that?’

She nodded. ‘Oh, do you think they might?’

‘They’d certainly have room, because their café will be in a former carriage house, so you can show them the photos when we go up to dinner later.’

‘We’ve had some small carrier bags printed with our logo so I can bring you a supply of those for behind the counter, if you like?’

‘It’s OK, I’m having some upmarket doggy bags printed with our logo, for anyone who wants to take any leftover sandwiches and cake home from their tea, so we can use those,’ I said. ‘They’re white card, with our logo up the side in a dark teal colour.’

‘That sounds quite swish,’ she said. ‘What do you think of the lemon curd?’

‘That and the orange version are so yummy, they’d make great tart fillings, garnished with just a twist of candied peel.’

I looked down at the pot I was holding, realized I’d eaten almost the entire contents of the orange one, and put my spoon down quickly. ‘I’m glad you’re making horseradish sauce too, because I’ll need it for the roast beef sandwiches.’

‘Dad started growing it a few years ago, along with the herbs, and Mum tried out lots of recipes till she came up with this one: it’s not too explosive, but still strong enough to add a bit of zest.’

‘It does that all right,’ I agreed, and then we screwed all the lids back on the jars and went downstairs. I’d already sent her lots of photos of how the café looked before we started on the renovations and then some of the ensuing chaos, but now I’d painted the teashop itself, at least she could get some idea of what the final result would be.

‘I love the colour scheme – it’s just like the flat!’ she enthused. ‘All these chalky blues and whites and creams – light but somehow not cold.’

‘Yes, that’s what I thought. I nicked the idea from my bedroom at Oldstone Farm. Sheila Giddings is part Norwegian and she’s decorated it in what Bel – that’s her daughter – calls Scandi-style. It goes with the blue and white patterned china, too, in an odd kind of way.’

‘I like the way the big mirror behind the counter at the back of the room reflects the light from the bow window.’

‘I think it must have been there since the place was the Copper Kettle, and so had the signboard, because you could still make out the letters of the last two names before the Branwell Café. It’s gone to be properly sanded down and repainted.’

I led the way out of the front door into the little cobbled courtyard, which was dappled by weak sunshine.

‘I think The Fat Rascal is an inspired name choice,’ Lola said. ‘Are you going to have them on the menu?’

‘Yes, miniature versions. In fact, I’ll have a Fat Rascal Tea as an option to the Classic Tea with scones.’

‘Good idea!’

‘You can see where Jack has mended and undercoated the Victorian trellis porch,’ I pointed out. ‘I’m having all the outside paintwork dark teal picked out in white, to match the new sign.’

She caught sight of Small and Perfect opposite and said with interest, ‘That must be Nile’s shop? But it looks shut.’

‘It isn’t often open, because he makes his living finding expensive bits and pieces for wealthy collectors. His car wasn’t there earlier so he must be off somewhere, which is a shame because you could have had a look round.’

‘And I’d like to catch a glimpse of this mythical beast, too,’ she said with a grin.

We went across and peered in the window anyway, though the distorting bull’s-eye-glass panes gave everything a slightly rippled effect, not to mention a faintly bilious tinge of green.

‘He has some lovely things, especially that small paperweight with the millefiori flowers,’ Lola said, pressing her nose to the glass.

‘It is pretty, isn’t it?’ I agreed. ‘I love that tall, narrow blue and white jug with the pastoral scene on it. If I have any money left when I’ve finished the renovations, I might ask him how much it is, but the way things are going I expect to be totally skint.’

‘You’ll need to try to keep some in reserve to cover the running costs and staff wages till the tearoom takes off, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I’ve already set aside enough to keep us afloat for three months and if it isn’t paying its way by then, I don’t think it ever will, but I may have to use some of that money if anything major happens, like the boiler goes bust or something.’

‘Well, then, fingers crossed it doesn’t,’ Lola said optimistically.

‘I’ll get some money from my publishers once I’ve sent them the new book – an advance on delivery – but it won’t be a lot. If  I ever finish it,’ I added darkly.

‘Of course you will! And won’t it be wonderful to see it on sale in bookshops, not just on the internet?’ she said encouragingly. ‘What’s it called?’

‘When Beauty Goes Bad. They might change the title, though, I suppose.’

We went back into the café and Lola stood in the middle of the empty room, half-closing her eyes. ‘I can visualize what the tearoom will look like when it’s finished – very restful and swish and grown-up. The tables covered with white linen cloths …’

‘Easy-care linen-look, with matching napkins,’ I amended. ‘I’ve seen samples and they’re just what I want, so I’m about to place an order. And I’ve found a local laundry that’ll collect and deliver daily.’

She closed her eyes again, like a medium summoning up the spirit of a tearoom: ‘The quiet clink of cutlery …’

‘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.

By now, dusk was stealing over the landscape and the wind was revving up to a howl. ‘Come on,’ I said with a sudden shiver. ‘Get back in the car and we’ll go and introduce you to the Giddingses!’

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 …