The Little Teashop of Lost and Found by Ashley, Trisha (30)

30

Stand and Deliver

I woke up horribly early, with the scenes of the book I’d written late last night clear as crystal in my head, but the events at the restaurant after my third glass of champagne rather fuzzy.

I could remember the way Nile had looked at me across the table, while a violin played … and then a blonde in a bunny-girl outfit and a bridal veil making a scene. After that, it got even hazier: stars came into it … and a song about another Alice and a restaurant. And a kiss or two … unless I’d dreamed those up, which was entirely possible.

I pulled myself together with an effort: I was expecting the overdue delivery of the new double catering-sized oven, in another of those wonderful time slots, this one being between half past seven and twelve noon. So I carried my mug of coffee down with me to the kitchen, arriving just in time to spot through the window the tall and unmistakable figure of Nile, heading for his car.

Another early riser – and I was positive he hadn’t mentioned that he was going anywhere – but then, why should he? My hazy recollections of last night were that we’d kissed, come home and then parted perfectly casually after a nice evening. Nothing to give me the right to bounce out of the back door and demand to know when he’d be back.

I had plenty of time to file the latest business receipts and update the accounts book before the inevitable phone call from the delivery driver. He was in some giant pantechnicon and the nearest he could get to the teashop in that was the cobbled main street at the end of the passage. His satnav had told him to turn down Doorknocker’s Row, but fortunately he’d had enough sense not to try it.

I went through and opened the front door to the café and a few moments later there was a rumbling noise and a disgruntled-looking man appeared, wheeling the oven on a trolley.

He said he couldn’t leave his van where it was, so he’d have to drop the oven off at the door.

‘No you won’t,’ I told him pleasantly. ‘I’ve paid for delivery and connection, and that means you have to bring it right through to the kitchen: come along – you’re in luck, because I’ve had a wheelchair ramp fitted so you don’t have to get it down the step.’

I was so glad I’d laid a walkway of flattened cardboard boxes over my beautifully sanded new floor, too, to protect it from workmen’s feet, because those trolley wheels wouldn’t have done it any good at all.

Once he’d got it through the front door, he tried again to make his escape, but I stood my ground, blocking his exit, and told him that if he just got on with it instead of arguing, he’d be away the quicker. Eventually he gave in.

In sulky silence, but with the speed of practice, he ripped open the box and installed my beautiful double oven, which was merely a matter of connecting it to the newly wired socket and pushing it into place. Then he tossed all the packaging back into the box, put it on the trolley and went off, muttering darkly. I suspected he had misogynistic tendencies.

Tilda arrived to clean while I was still reading the instruction manual before switching it on and heating the ovens through. She went up to do the flat first, which took her no time at all, and then she did the best she could with the teashop, complaining all the while that as usual the workmen had left dust everywhere.

We shared a pot of stewed tea at eleven and she admired the new ovens. ‘Space age, them are,’ she said approvingly. ‘I can feel the heat from here, too, though I can’t see anything cooking.’

‘No, you have to run them empty for at least an hour, before you bake anything.’

‘Why’s that, then?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ I confessed. ‘Though new ovens smell better when you’ve done it, so maybe that’s it?’

‘If they’re new, they should smell fine anyway.’

‘It’s one of life’s great mysteries,’ I agreed, passing her the chocolate digestive biscuits, and she looked around her.

‘It’s more like a hospital in here now, with all these white units and tiles.’

‘Easy to clean – and easy to see when it is clean,’ I explained. ‘I’ll add a bit of colour with new blinds and some tough vinyl flooring – I’m having the same one all the way through to the back door.’

‘What about in the basement? They’ve taken up all the old stuff, what was nearly wore through.’

I got up and showed her the samples I’d chosen from. ‘This dove-grey one – the same as upstairs. Now the tiling is finished in the customer toilets, the flooring can all go down as soon as it arrives – Jack’s organizing that.’

‘Nell and I will be glad when it’s all done and the teashop opens, because we like to keep busy and that cleaning agency pays peanuts.’

‘Isn’t Nell …?’ I wondered how to put it tactfully. ‘I mean, won’t she be thinking of retiring soon?’

‘No, why should she? She’s fit as a fiddle and walks for miles every day with our Frank,’ she said, looking astounded at the mere suggestion.

‘Frank?’

‘Our greyhound. There’s a rescue place always trying to find homes for them. You should have one for a bit of company.’

‘I’ll certainly think about it, when I’ve settled down,’ I agreed, then added, ‘Nell must be fit if she’s out with the dog every day.’

‘She always says you have to use it or lose it,’ Tilda said. ‘You think on about getting a greyhound.’

‘I will,’ I promised.

Then I heard the back door open and assumed it was one of the workmen.

‘Cooee!’ called the unmistakable and unwelcome voice of Jim Voss, and then he strolled in as if he was sure of his welcome.

‘Our Nell said she’d seen him here before,’ Tilda said, eyeing him with disfavour. ‘Does he haunt the place?’

‘I might say the same about the Capsticks!’ he snapped back, disconcerted. ‘Don’t let me keep you, if you’re leaving.’

‘I’m not – I work here,’ she said.

‘Did you want something?’ I asked him bluntly.

He glanced at Tilda, who was clearly immovable, then said with an ingratiating smile, ‘I’m here on a delicate mission – Mrs Muswell called us last night in great distress.’

‘Has she found her conscience lying about somewhere?’ asked Tilda.

‘She should have called me,’ I said. ‘I’m the one she’s cheated.’

‘Quite unintentionally, it appears,’ he said quickly. ‘She didn’t think you’d want any of those old things, they were only fit to be thrown out.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘So, can I have her phone number?’

‘I don’t have it,’ he lied. ‘But she’s calling us again later today because, as I say, she’s sent me on a delicate mission. She suddenly remembered that she’d left her mother’s tea set in a box under the stairs to the basement – and it’s of great sentimental value and she’d like it back.’

‘But that’s where the willow-pattern china was, and there isn’t anything else in there, other than a vacuum cleaner.’

‘She was positive it was there, behind the boxes of willow pattern – and since she has no objection to your having that, she thought you wouldn’t have any objection to giving me the tea service to pass on to her.’

‘Having stripped the place of anything of any value, it’s kind of her not to demand that willow pattern back, too,’ Tilda said drily. ‘Eh, the cheek of the woman!’

‘The value of the willow-pattern china is a drop in the ocean of the amount she owes me,’ I said. ‘And I’m entitled to keep anything I find on my premises.’

‘But surely, her mother’s tea set …’ he blustered.

‘Alice’s already told you, it wasn’t there,’ said Tilda. ‘The cupboard’s empty apart from that clapped-out old vacuum cleaner – an antique like you, Jim Voss!’

He flushed an unbecoming dark red, right up to the top of his balding head. ‘Perhaps I could see for myself.’

‘Perhaps you could take yourself off,’ she returned.

‘Yes – we’ve already told you it isn’t there and we’re very busy, so we’d prefer your space to your presence,’ I told him.

He glowered at us, clamped his lips together on whatever he was thinking of saying and marched out, slamming the back door behind him.

‘Our Nell has the right of it: he’s a little sneaking snirp,’ Tilda said.

Later, just after Tilda had left, the teashop sign came back, newly lettered in white on dark teal to match the rest of the outside paintwork. ‘The Fat Rascal’ was in large script and underneath, in smaller lettering, it read, ‘Afternoon Tea Emporium’.

When it was fixed up I stood there for ages, simply drinking in the wonderful effect of the sign, the glossy paintwork, the pretty trellis porch and the shining bull’s-eye glass of the bow window. (That was Tilda’s doing – she swore by vinegar and crumpled newspaper.)

Bel, who had driven in for some shopping, found me there and said admiringly, ‘Oh, it looks perfect now, doesn’t it?’

‘Well, almost, but I think it still needs a couple of finishing touches,’ I said consideringly. ‘Nile gave me a big blue and white jug and I’ll have that on the window ledge, filled with seasonal flowers, but don’t you think there should be something else actually outside to brighten it up?’

‘Yes, perhaps a tub of flowers or something,’ Bel suggested. ‘We could go to a garden centre over the weekend and see what we can find, if you like. You are coming out to Oldstone again, aren’t you? You know Mum expects you to now, unless you tell her you can’t make it?’

‘It’s very kind of her and I’ll come tomorrow, but I want to work on my book tonight, when it’s quiet.’

Mind you, if Nile wasn’t back it might be too quiet in Doorknocker’s Row … and feel a bit lonely. I liked it better when I could look across and see the comforting square of light that showed he was home.

‘Is Nile going to be there this weekend?’ I asked, despite myself.

‘Oh, Nile seldom says what he’s doing, he just turns up. Isn’t he here?’

‘No, he went off somewhere very early.’

‘He told Mum he was taking you to Mr Rochester’s Restaurant last night,’ she said, looking at me sideways. ‘Are you seeing each other?’

‘It would be hard to avoid seeing each other, since we both live in Doorknocker’s Row,’ I said evasively. ‘But we did go to the restaurant, because Nile had something to deliver to Henry Godet, the owner. He wanted to see what the food was like, too, so he asked me if I’d like to go with him.’

She looked disappointed – I’m not quite sure what she was expecting. ‘Oh … right. And what was it like?’

‘Delicious!’

She looked at me expectantly. ‘And …?’

‘A violinist came and played at the table, which was embarrassing – but not as embarrassing as one of Nile’s many ex-girlfriends making a drunken scene over him as we left.’

‘Which one?’

‘I think I heard her being called Chloe.’

‘I remember Chloe. She left Nile for someone else, so I don’t know why she would make a scene. And actually, he hasn’t had many girlfriends since he moved up here,’ she added.

‘It makes no difference to me how many women he’s gone out with,’ I said. ‘We’re just friends.’

‘Mmm …’ Bel said, but seeing she wasn’t going to tease any more out of me (which would have been difficult, given the muddled state both of my recollections of the evening and my emotions), she changed tack. ‘Teddy and Geeta have volunteered to help Mum paint the new bedroom in the morning while Jan, their part-time nanny, looks after Casper, so I don’t think we’ll be needed till later. If you come for lunch then we could go to the garden centre afterwards?’

‘That would be fun. I do love garden centres.’

‘Me too, and there’s a wonderful one the other side of Upvale. Oh, by the way,’ she said as we went back indoors, ‘Teddy’s coming on Monday in the pickup to collect the leftover tables and chairs, if that’s all right?’

‘Yes, fine – they stack up, as you see.’

‘I could take some of the chairs back with me in the car now,’ she suggested.

‘Good idea, and I’ll bring a couple more tomorrow and then he might get what’s left into one load.’

The distant strains of a tenor voice singing something swoopingly operatic wafted up from the basement, along with the sound of an electric drill.

‘Jack’s back,’ I said.

At lunch next day, Sheila told us that Nile had rung her from London, because he’d spotted a nice but pricey piece of Troika and wondered if she wanted him to buy it.

‘And it’s a huge lamp base, which is something I haven’t already got, so I told him to try and haggle the price down and then go for it.’

So … Nile had gone off straight to London yesterday morning, presumably to see Zelda. And there was absolutely no reason why he should have told me he was going to do that, let alone say goodbye before he went …

It was ages since I’d been to a garden centre and I was surprised at the array of other things they seemed to stock now, and not just plant-related, either.

They also had a coffee shop, where we repaired after I’d chosen two very large teal-blue glazed pots for either side of the café door. They were already planted up with ball-shaped variegated holly trees surrounded by a circle of winter pansies.

That decided, I thought I’d get something for Nile, to liven up the dark green and gold frontage of Small and Perfect, so I picked a light green wooden tub, planted with a red rose tree on a long stem, that reminded me of the illustrations in my old copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

It was a bit pricey, but it would make me feel better about accepting that valuable jug and the expensive meal on Thursday night.

The garden centre promised to deliver the planters next afternoon, so I drew them a map of how to get to the back of the teashop. I was thinking of having it printed on cards to hand out: it would save a lot of time.

Bel and I painted the skirting boards in the new letting bedroom next morning, since Teddy and Geeta had already done their bit the previous day. I felt I ought to earn my lunch in more than just advice on catering rules and regulations.

Sheila was surprised when Nile didn’t make it back for Sunday lunch, so it must have been a rare event. I didn’t linger long afterwards either, for I needed to be back at the flat before the planters were delivered.

And it was just as well Nile’s car wasn’t parked there, because the plants arrived on the back of a small open-topped truck, which was manoeuvred into the alleyway parking space next to my car without any problem.

The pots and tub were wheeled through the passage to the courtyard and put into place and they looked perfect – the finishing touches to the outside. I thought Nile’s rose tree, in its light green planter, looked especially elegant and hoped he would like it.

One of the men who delivered them lingered to look at the overgrown roses in my garden – if a square of paving with beds around it could be called that.

‘Neglected,’ he said, shaking his head sadly. ‘But cut them back hard, feed them in spring and see what happens, before you dig any of them out,’ he advised, and I thanked him. I’d do that, and now I’d been to the garden centre, I could imagine how my little courtyard garden could look with a bit of TLC, some more pots and planters and perhaps a fountain in the middle – one of those ones that burble gently through big pebbles.

Soothing …

I reminded myself of all the money I’d already spent this weekend and then went back upstairs to work on my book: cause and effect.

The dryads, having regrouped, were going to come back for vengeance and things could only get gory – just as the two couples were about to get sorted out into their right pairings, too … or not, as the case might be.

I was still away with the wicked fairies when Nile’s voice jerked me back to reality.

‘Alice? Are you there?’ he called from the bottom of the stairs.

I rose stiffly to my feet. ‘Come up,’ I invited, and he appeared a moment later. He looked tired – but then, I suppose he would after driving all the way up from London.

‘I did knock on the café door first. You need a bell that rings up here, or one of those intercom things, for when the café is shut. I don’t like just walking in.’

‘It hasn’t stopped you so far,’ I pointed out. ‘And you could have sent me a message saying you were on your way.’

‘I did, several of them. Your car was at the back, so when you didn’t answer, I got worried.’

‘I was just working,’ I explained, still so far away I was having trouble reconnecting to the here-and-now. ‘Did you want me for anything?’

‘Well, I assume you had something to do with the rose in a tub outside my shop, since there are also two pots either side of your door?’

‘Oh, yes – I’d forgotten,’ I said. ‘Bel and I went to the garden centre yesterday. Do you like it? It’s a present, for all you’ve done for me, not to mention the lovely jug.’

‘Yes … and thank you. I think.’

‘Think?’ I repeated. ‘You’re not a plant lover?’

‘Oh, I love them all right, only I’m away so much it’ll probably die of thirst, or get pot-bound, or whatever.’

‘I’ll look after it, along with mine,’ I offered. ‘The garden centre man who delivered them has given me some advice about the old roses in the backyard, too.’

‘I’ve brought you something else I picked up while I was away, but please don’t pay me back in more plants,’ he said ungratefully. ‘I’ve left the boxes downstairs – come and see.’

And there, on the old table in the utility room, were a load of cardboard cartons, absolutely full of dusty willow-pattern china.

‘Bel said you needed more, so I put the word out,’ he explained.

And it seemed every dealer he knew was inundated with cheap modern willow-pattern china that they were dying to get rid of, because on the way down and back he’d collected all of this.

‘I’d have made it back hours ago, in time for lunch, if I hadn’t had to detour so often,’ he complained. ‘There’s more to come, too, if you want it.’

‘I don’t think I can have too much, because of breakages, and I’ve got lots of room in the cupboards here to store it. Thank you so much, Nile,’ I said gratefully. ‘You’re so thoughtful, and I’m always such a cow to you!’ I added with sudden compunction: he did bring out the defensive hedgehog spikes.

He gave me one of those undermining smiles. ‘Not quite always … and anyway, I like your acerbic edge – it keeps me on my toes.’ He bent down and hauled a bigger box out from under the table. ‘I brought this in first, because it’s a bit delicate. I spotted it in a friend’s shop and thought it would be perfect for the café.’

I unfolded the lid to reveal an old chandelier in a wide, shallow and rather art deco style, with matching wall lights.

‘Oh, it’s lovely!’ I said, as he held it up. ‘But it must have cost a fortune!’

‘No, I did a deal with some stuff of mine he wanted. Anyway, it’s another way of burdening you with gratitude and getting you in my evil power.’ He stroked an imaginary handlebar moustache and leered.

‘Huh!’ I said, unimpressed, then added, ‘Do you want to come upstairs?’

‘That’s not an offer I get every day,’ he said, raising one eyebrow.

‘For a cup of coffee,’ I said pointedly, though going slightly pink, because I’d suddenly remembered our smoochy moment outside the restaurant. It only showed how far I’d vanished into the book, that I’d totally forgotten it until that moment. ‘Maybe something to eat, too, because I haven’t had anything for hours and I’m ravenous.’

I cooked pasta, added a jar of pesto sauce and a sprinkling of grated Parmesan (hardly up to Henry Godet’s standards, but good and filling) and while we were eating it, Nile told me where he’d been.

‘I had to go to Norfolk first and then across to a place near Guildford, so I thought I might as well call in on Zelda this morning before I came home, to clear the air with her.’

‘And … did you manage to do that?’ I asked.

He frowned. ‘It’s odd: you’ve known someone for years and years and think you understand what makes them tick, and then they throw you a curve ball that makes you see you really didn’t at all.’

‘A new curve ball, or the old one?’

‘A new dimension: the reason she thought I’d be up for marrying her and starting a family is that she was under the illusion that I’d kept a torch burning for her ever since we briefly went out with each other at university.’

‘And have you?’ I asked bluntly, the words just marching right out there.

‘No, of course I haven’t!’ he snapped. ‘I’ve already told you that I only see her as a friend and that’s how I thought she saw me, too. Yet all the time she really thought … I mean, she’s very pretty but she doesn’t ring my bells.’ He looked across at me, his light grey eyes inscrutable. ‘I seem to go for an entirely different kind of girl these days.’

‘Presumably she usually prefers a different kind of man – so you’re a desperation measure.’

‘Yes – thanks for that,’ he said tartly. ‘But what it all boils down to is that she’s obsessed with the idea of having a baby before it’s too late and would rather do it with a partner than on her own. And she genuinely thought that I’d never found someone else because I was in love with her. I wondered why she was so affectionate all of a sudden, and kept ringing me about stuff she’d usually sort without my going down to London.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I said disbelievingly. ‘I’m sure I’ve read that novel.’ I was starting to think Zelda could have a second career as a writer. ‘So, did you put her straight?’

‘Yes, and she says she’s going to have to go it alone, with AI.’

‘Lots of women do, these days,’ I said.

‘I warned her to weigh it all up carefully first, but she said she hadn’t got time, the clock was ticking.’

‘It does sound as if she can’t think of anything else, now.’

‘No, she can’t, because then I suggested that since she’d been left a bit of money lately, she should buy me out of the antiques stall and throw herself into expanding the business. She said she’d consider it, but she might need the money to buy a flat, because living on a house boat wouldn’t be ideal with a child.’

‘I suppose that’s true,’ I said. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see how things pan out.’

‘That’s the conclusion I came to, as well,’ he said, getting up. ‘And now I’d better go and unpack the rest of the car and leave you to do some more work.’

‘I’d just about got to the staring-into-space phase of trying to figure out how it will all end,’ I said. ‘I can’t do any more tonight, so perhaps, before you go, you wouldn’t mind helping me with something in the tearoom? I need you to hand me the crockery I want to display on the shelves, so I don’t have to keep going up and down the ladder. It’ll only take a few minutes.’

‘Opportunist!’ he said, though after watching me sway about on the top of the ladder for a few moments, he told me I was unnerving him and took over.

Bossy as always.