41
Strong Reservations
I spotted the walking party returning from the kitchen window. Bel and Nile were in front, with Robbie and Zelda lagging way behind, their heads together like a pair of conspirators.
They passed out of sight round the side of the house and a few moments later the front door slammed and we heard voices in the hall.
Bel followed Nile into the kitchen and rolled her eyes.
‘Phew! I feel as if I’ve been sucked through a vortex of emotion and spat out on the other side.’
‘It was OK for you – you weren’t directly involved,’ Nile said morosely, sitting down at the kitchen table and stretching out his long, jeans-clad legs. They looked like designer jeans – but then, everything he wore looked expensive, even when I knew it wasn’t.
‘I got to hear every last detail anyway, since we were changing partners more often than during a country dance,’ Bel pointed out. ‘First, Robbie spent ages telling me he felt Alice had got him all the way up to Yorkshire under false pretences, while Zelda was buttonholing Nile—’
‘That was her great renunciation scene,’ he put in.
‘I know: she gave it to me, word for word, right after she’d finished winding Robbie up to the point where he went to have things out with you. I feel quite exhausted!’
‘I’m not surprised,’ I said. ‘It sounds like the walk from hell – but I’m glad no one seems to have actually come to blows!’
Nile glanced up. ‘Robbie accused me of being a quick worker and toying with Alice’s heart when she was at her most vulnerable.’
‘I think some of Zelda’s theatrical flourishes must have rubbed off on him, don’t you?’ Bel said. ‘He doesn’t usually seem to talk like a Victorian papa.’
‘Did he really say that?’ I asked Nile. ‘It does sound most unlike him!’
‘Yes, but I managed to persuade him my intentions were strictly honourable,’ he said gravely.
‘Of course they are, darling,’ agreed Sheila, who was starting to prepare lunch.
‘Which intentions?’ I demanded.
‘All of them,’ he said, and his grey eyes met mine, full of limpid and, I was sure, entirely spurious innocence.
‘Zelda and Robbie got their heads together on the way back and I don’t know what the upshot of that was, except Robbie would like a word with you, Alice: he’s in the library.’
‘Oh God, is he?’ I exclaimed, aghast.
‘I suspect it’s going to be his great renunciation scene,’ Nile said drily. ‘You’d better go and get it over with.’
He was quite right, too: it was just unfortunate that I found Robbie in resigned, forgiving and noble mode so funny that I had trouble keeping my face straight. Luckily, he seemed to assume my quivering lip was a different kind of emotion.
‘I wish you’d told me you were involved with someone else before I dashed up here to see you,’ he said reproachfully.
‘Since you didn’t even let me know you were in the country first, that would have been a little difficult,’ I pointed out.
He ignored that. ‘It didn’t cross my mind that you’d have found someone else so soon after Dan was killed. At first I thought Nile must have taken advantage of you when you were at a low ebb, until he explained everything.’
‘Oh?’ I prompted, deeply interested. ‘Like what?’
‘Well … that you were taking your relationship slowly, because he didn’t want to rush you into anything you might regret later.’
‘Oh, right …’ I said. ‘Yes, of course: silly me!’
‘Anyway, now I understand where you’re coming from. But I’ll always be there for you if things go wrong and you need me,’ he assured me nobly.
‘That’s so sweet of you, Robbie,’ I said, though of course his support wouldn’t be a lot of use if he went off back to the Antipodes.
‘I hope you’ll both be very happy.’
‘I expect we will,’ I said, but didn’t add that that might not necessarily be together …
He sighed heavily. ‘I’ve decided to drive back to London after lunch.’
‘But I thought you were staying till tomorrow,’ I said, and added, even though the news was a relief, ‘I mean, I’ve hardly seen you yet.’
‘Well, that wasn’t my fault, was it?’ he said, the nobility slipping and an aggrieved note shoving its way in. ‘Anyway, since I can see there’s no point in my hanging about now, I thought I might as well get back to Wimbledon.’
I didn’t try to dissuade him and we ended our tête-à-tête with a hug.
It was just unfortunate that Nile chose that moment to put his head into the library to tell us that lunch was ready.
Nile’s brooding thundercloud look lasted until Robbie told everyone that he was leaving after lunch, after which the sun came out.
Evidently it wasn’t news to Zelda, because she said, ‘Yes, and I’m going with him: he’s going to drop me off in Camden, which will be easier than my staying tonight and struggling with the Sunday trains. This whole journey’s been a pointless waste of time.’
‘Oh, I hope not, because we love seeing you, darling,’ Sheila told her kindly, even though I was sure she was as relieved as the rest of us to hear she was going. ‘And Robbie’s always welcome to visit us again, too.’
I think she meant it; but I’m certain the rest of us were hoping they never darkened the doors of Oldstone again.
‘Back to normal once more,’ Sheila said with a sigh of satisfaction as we finally waved Robbie’s hired car off.
We all agreed … though, actually, normal at the Giddingses’ isn’t the same as normal anywhere else, and Sheila had me, Bel and Nile sanding down the banisters on the small back staircase practically before the dust of the car had vanished down the drive.
Teddy, Geeta and the baby were out for the day, so there were only the four of us at dinner that night.
I think we were limp with relief after breasting all the crosscurrents, for we slipped back into discussing the waffle house plans and what I still needed to do during my mad dash to get the teashop ready to open on 4 November, as if the last couple of days and all the emotional upsets hadn’t happened. And The Fat Rascal opening was now not much more than a week away!
‘I’m going to invite some special guests for the opening tea, so leave the date free,’ I told Sheila. ‘I’m reserving the big table in the window for you and the family, because I really want you all to be there.’
‘Of course we’ll be there, darling,’ she said, ‘but I intended booking us in for it anyway. We’ll be your first paying customers.’
It took me a while to persuade her out of this resolution and then Nile asked me who the other special guests would be.
‘Well. . . Thom Carey, for one.’
‘Then I’d better sit with him, because there won’t be room at the big table for another person,’ Bel said quickly.
‘I’ll make a note of that when I do the seating plan. . . which reminds me that I’ve ordered some small reserved signs for the tables and they haven’t arrived yet, so I must chase them up.’
I got a sheet off Sheila’s shopping list pad and made a couple of notes.
‘I’ll invite Jack and his wife, and Ross too, if he’d like to come. And then I did wonder about asking Eleri and Henry Godet … but then, Henry might criticize my food, so perhaps not! I’m definitely inviting Henry’s cousin George, though he did say teashops weren’t his thing. And Emily Rhymer and her husband.’
‘What about the reporter who interviewed you this morning?’ Bel suggested.
So much had happened that it seemed like days since this morning!
‘Oh, yes – good idea! He might even write it up again, if he comes.’
‘I thought the teashop was nearly ready and just needed a few tweaks, but it sounds as if you’re going to be frantically busy right up until you open,’ Bel said.
‘I will,’ I said, ‘but at least now I don’t have to juggle it with trying to finish writing a book!’
Sheila spent next morning in her studio, while Bel and I cooked lunch for a change, with Nile as skivvy. I think we’d all had more than enough of emotional scenes and explanations for the moment, so it was nice to do something so ordinary.
When Thom arrived he brought yet more cake stands and we loaded them straight into Nile’s car, which was roomier than mine, so he could drop them off for me later. I now had almost enough … and Thom said he was getting to the point where he was having willow-pattern nightmares.
He was really nice and he and Bel seemed to hit it off so well. By the time I left, she was showing him the plans for the waffle house and then she was going to take him round the studios.
I knew they would like to convert a couple more of the stables into workshops, so perhaps Thom would be their first resident craftsman, making those lovely upcycled tree bookshelves.
I invited him to The Fat Rascal opening tea then and there, and he said he’d love to come, so that was one tick on the guest list.
I’d dashed off after lunch, saying I had something I needed to do – I just didn’t say that the urgent thing was to go up to the Oldstone and think about things, Nile being the main one of them.
I don’t know why I thought I could do it there better than anywhere else, but so it was.
The weather had brightened, but it was still a very cold, late October day, the kind with a hint of wood smoke hanging in the chill air. It wasn’t surprising I had the place to myself. From the top, by the standing stone, I could see for miles … which was a lot further than I could envision where I was going with my personal life.
It had been a very confusing couple of days, but one thing had become crystal clear: Nile was attracted to me and I could so very easily let myself fall hard for him. And that would be such a mistake, because when he inevitably moved on, it would make it difficult for me to continue seeing the Giddingses and I’d lose the closest thing to being part of a real family I’d ever known.
I found I was droning out the song about someone taking another little piece of my heart and a sheep had bobbed up from behind a clump of heather and was giving me a deeply disapproving glare.
Nile had beaten me back to Doorknocker’s Row: his car was parked behind the teashop and the boxes of cake stands were stacked on the table in the utility room.
He’d left me a note, too, saying he’d brought back some of Sheila’s broccoli and Stilton soup and crusty rolls, so he’d bring them across later for supper. Then he’d added a postscript that he wouldn’t be hanging about afterwards, because he was off on his travels again early tomorrow morning.
‘Who wanted you to hang about anyway?’ I told the note crossly. ‘In fact, who invited you to come over at all, with or without supper?’
Feeling ruffled, I unpacked the cake stands, washed and dried them, then stood them in rows in the big cupboards in the utility room.
When Nile arrived, I found I didn’t need my freshly hardened heart to discourage any advances, because we seemed to be back on our usual friendly – if slightly spiky on my side and reserved on his – terms.
He did end up staying later than he intended, but it was his own fault: when I told him that after he’d gone I was going to tweak the café website I’d made, he couldn’t resist helping me, which was just as well, since he knew much more about it from designing his own than I did.
When the advert was published on Thursday it would include the website address, so I needed to put the menus up.
‘We’ll take bookings through the internet or by phone,’ I told him. ‘They’ll all be written in a book kept behind the counter, for Tilda and Nell to consult … and I really must buy another laptop for the office. Tilda says she can take email bookings if I do, because Daisy’s taught her how to use a computer, but Nell thinks the internet is the Devil’s work and won’t have anything to do with it.’
‘Well, I suppose she might have a point,’ he said, grinning. Then he got up and said he’d have to go. ‘As I said, I’ve got an early start in the morning.’
I resisted the urge to ask him where he was going, but it was a close-run thing.
And I needed to be up early tomorrow too, because the teashop was having its official inspection and I wanted to make sure it was perfect.
And it must have been, because it passed everything with flying colours and the only recommendations were that I give my staff special training on aspects of health, hygiene and safety before I opened for business.
I thought that would go down well with Tilda and Nell, but I rang and invited them to come and be trained on Wednesday. Or at any rate, to come and have tea and discuss it.
Then I set up Facebook and Twitter pages for The Fat Rascal, linked them to the website and uploaded a really good photograph of the round table set for afternoon tea that I’d taken on the day all the Giddingses were there. I felt like a complete technobabe after that.
On impulse I looked at Robbie’s Facebook page while I was on there and it still didn’t mention that he wasn’t currently in Australia. But then, mentally he always did seem to be on another continent – a drifting one.
On Tuesday I woke up with a hollow feeling in my stomach and the realization that in exactly a week The Fat Rascal would be open – and immediately had a major meltdown, even though I was sure, or almost sure, that everything was ready.
It was as if I’d had a premonition, because the moment I got downstairs the boiler switched itself on – and then made a horrible noise like a prolonged death rattle and expired.
When I got the man who’d serviced the one in the flat out to look, he confirmed my worst fears: it was dead as a dodo. I’d need a new one – and I’d have to have it, even if it would totally wipe out the contingency fund meant to keep the teashop afloat for the first vital weeks.
I thought Nile was still away, but he must have returned some time last night, for he appeared minutes after a flurry of panicked messages hit his inbox.
And what’s more, after soothing me down to a gentle simmer, he patiently stayed and helped me work through all my lists, check the books, the stock, that I’d ordered the fresh bread and milk … everything.
‘It’s all going to be fine,’ he assured me patiently. ‘And since they’re starting to put the new boiler in tomorrow, that will be ready in plenty of time, too. Stop worrying.’
‘But it’s costing so much! If the one in the flat goes as well, then I’ll just have to live in an icebox. I’ll be chilled but perfectly preserved by spring,’ I said gloomily.
‘That’s right, look on the bright side,’ he urged me, with a grin.
‘If the customers don’t flood in and keep coming, I won’t be able to pay the suppliers, or the staff or—’
‘Stop right there,’ he ordered. ‘I’ve already told you: the customers will pour in, it will all be a success, and Princess Alice will live happily ever after in her fairy teashop castle.’
‘Yeah, right,’ I said.
‘And if the finances get really desperate, I’ll bail you out.’
‘Oh, that’s kind!’ I said, totally taken aback by his generous offer. ‘But—’
‘I won’t need to, you’ll see. Come on, what else is on that never-ending list of things to be done?’
‘Lola’s making a flying visit up on Friday, just for one night, to deliver the jams, pickles and sauces, but other than that, I think we’re done.’
‘Then all you need to do now is relax – and then cook up a storm.’
‘I’m not sure I know how to relax any more,’ I said ruefully, ‘but thank you for going through it all with me, Nile. I really appreciate it.’
‘You could demonstrate your appreciation by taking me out to lunch,’ he suggested. ‘And we’ll kill two birds with one stone, because afterwards we’ll spread some of that glossy pile of Fat Rascal leaflets all over the village.’
And we did, too – and some of the outlying hotels and guesthouses, all of which had information racks ready and waiting. We gave the Gondal Guesthouse a wide berth, though.
Nile went back to Small and Perfect when we returned. He still hadn’t said where he’d been all of the previous day, which, of course, was none of my business.
Then Sheila rang with the glad tidings that she’d just had an indication that planning permission was likely to be granted for the development of the café in the stables.
‘That means it’s pretty likely to go through, doesn’t it?’ I said.
‘I think it will, so I’ve asked Michelle, the sister of Casper’s nanny, if she’d like to run the café for me. She said she’d love to, so I’m going to teach her to make waffles. She’s a very nice girl.’
‘Great, because I’m sure during tourist season you’ll have more than enough to do looking after the paying guests.’
‘I don’t actually do very much really, except cook dinner if they want it,’ she said. ‘Bel does the breakfasts and the cleaner changes the beds and towels. Oh, and Alice, Thom might become our first resident craftsman next year, if we convert another stable!’ she added brightly. ‘If he charged more for those lovely big pieces of reclaimed wooden furniture Bel showed me pictures of, he wouldn’t have to bother so much with upcycling smaller items.’
‘That’s true,’ I agreed. ‘I did love the tree bookshelf he was making and I’m certain people would pay a fortune for those.’
‘His neighbours have been complaining about the noise when he’s sawing and sanding wood. Some people have no soul. But it doesn’t matter to us and it will be rather nice to have another craftsman working here – perhaps nice in more ways than one, because I can tell Bel’s very taken with him.’
‘I’d noticed, but I’m sure she’s not in any hurry to start a new relationship – and neither am I, come to that,’ I added pointedly, since I was now certain from her hints that she was cherishing hopes.
‘You know, that’s exactly what I told Nile when he called in on his way up to that country house sale in Northumberland. Take things slowly, I said.’ She smiled at me, undeterred.
‘Oh, so that’s where he was?’ I said involuntarily.
‘Yes, did he forget to tell you? I’m sure he thought he had – and he says you’re both going to the pub tonight, with Bel and Thom.’
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it!’
After I’d put the phone down, I thought that Nile made too many assumptions about me and I really ought to tell him I had something else to do tonight, except it would probably be fun for us all to go out together.
And we did have a nice, relaxing evening and then went back to Nile’s for coffee, which he brewed up in a big snazzy machine. Then Thom drove Bel home, meaning he’d be spending half the night crisscrossing the moors, and I pleaded exhaustion and went home too.
Nile didn’t try to persuade me to stay with him a little longer, but then, that was what I wanted, wasn’t it? So there was no reason for me to feel disappointed …
On Tilda and Nell’s training day I sat them down and explained about the new boiler.
‘So you see, since I’ve spent all my money on replacing it, there won’t be any left to pay your salaries, or anything else, if the teashop isn’t an immediate success.’
‘It will be, and anyway, we’ll wait for our wages, if necessary,’ Tilda said.
‘Why not sell that old tea set Jim Voss came round after?’ Nell suggested. ‘There was one just like it on the Antiques Roadshow on Sunday and it fetched about five thousand pounds. I were struck dumb.’
‘I don’t think it can be the same as that one downstairs – it’s so ugly!’
‘Oh, yes, it were just as hideous,’ she assured me. ‘It were French,’ she added, as if that explained it. ‘I’ve brought that snap out of the album that shows the ladies having their tea from it, like I said they did once a year.’
The black-and-white photo was small, but the details surprisingly clear: two rather Edwardian-looking ladies were sitting behind a small bamboo table on which, unmistakably, was the tea service. There was a younger version of Nell standing next to them, her white cap pulled down low over her brow.
‘Well … I did mean to get Nile to take a look at it,’ I said doubtfully.
‘Maybe do it sooner than later, then, flower,’ suggested Tilda. ‘If it’s valuable, no wonder Molly Muswell was so keen to get it back!’
I wasn’t convinced, but I agreed I’d definitely ask Nile’s opinion, and we got on with the training, which was a hoot.
I solemnly read through all the rules for ensuring safety in the workplace, food preparation, and general good hygiene and how to wash your hands.
‘I haven’t killed any bugger yet,’ Nell said.
‘Paper towels are the most hygienic option for drying hands and you can use a clean one to turn off the tap,’ I continued, sticking to the script. ‘The dirty laundry – that’s the tablecloths and napkins – should be bagged and put in the rear hall ready for collection each evening, and the clean laundry put away in the designated cupboard until needed.’
‘Well, I’ll go t’ foot of ower stairs,’ said Nell sarkily.
‘All tea towels, handtowels and dishcloths will be run through the washing machine on a hot cycle every single day …’
I turned a page and said with relief: ‘Lastly, be careful to tick off the boxes on the whiteboard when daily and weekly cleaning tasks are completed, and the stock charts logging in the dates of perishable items.’
I sat back. ‘There, that’s about it.’
‘Go teach your grandmother to suck eggs,’ Tilda said, having sat with folded arms and an impassive face as she listened to the whole thing.
‘Well, I know that you know, but I had to do it anyway.’
‘Never mind, it was right entertaining, like a play,’ said Nell. ‘Did you say our aprons have come?’
They were Victorian-style with a bib top, frilled edges and a generous wrap-around, and when they tried them on I think Nell’s would have gone around her twice, except she threaded the strings through holes in the waistband and tied them in a large bow in front.
‘That’s how we did it when I worked at the Copper Kettle,’ she said.
They had decided between them to wear black tops and trousers underneath, and Nell had requested the sort of headband with a white frill attached that I’d only previously seen in ancient films.
It’s surprising what you can get on the internet.
‘Not long now till opening day, and I’ll come along early with our Tilda,’ Nell said. ‘We’ll be all revved up and ready to go, when the doors open.’
She made it sound like the opening day of a sale, when we might be trampled by a crush of customers.
‘Eh, it’ll be grand to be back in harness again and somewhere proper, too,’ Nell said happily.
‘Before you go,’ I said, ‘there’s something I need to tell you about myself, before you read it in the local paper tomorrow.’
‘Go on then,’ urged Tilda. ‘You’ve got my interest right piqued now!’
When they’d gone I rang Nile and said, ‘Can you come over? I’ve got something I want to show you.’
‘Promises, promises,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right there.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up – it’s only your professional expertise I want,’ I told him, and he laughed.
When he arrived I’d already brought the tea set upstairs to the back room and was unwrapping and laying it out, piece by piece, on the old table.
‘Where did that come from?’ he asked, picking a cup up and turning it over to examine the base.
‘You know I told you Mrs Muswell had sent Jim Voss to ask me for her mother’s tea set, because she’d left it behind, only it wasn’t in the cupboard where she said it was?’
He nodded.
‘Well, it was there after all, just tucked out of sight. Nell knew where it was and she said it dated back to the Misses Spencer, who had the Copper Kettle, so Mrs Muswell had lied about it being her mother’s. Nell even has a little black-and-white photograph showing herself serving the Misses Spencer tea with it – she brought it to show me earlier.’
‘So Mrs M had only just remembered it and was trying to get it back?’
‘Yes, I expect Jim Voss told her about our finding the willow-pattern china in the cupboard under the basement stairs, and that jogged her memory.’
‘Well, I’m not surprised – it’s quite valuable.’
‘Really?’ I stared at him. ‘Nell and I think it’s hideously ugly, but recently she saw something similar on the Antiques Roadshow.’
‘I think it’s ugly too,’ he agreed, ‘but it’s Sèvres, and there are lots of collectors out there who don’t share our opinion.’
He scrutinized each piece carefully, then said finally, ‘It’s all genuine – there are a lot of fakes about – and complete with the original tray. In perfect condition, too.’
‘So how much do you think it’s worth?’ I asked eagerly.
‘I’ll have to check some auction estimates, but I think it’s good for at least four thousand, and possibly quite a bit more.’
‘Wow!’ I said. ‘I think the Misses Spencer just gave me back a bit of financial wiggle room!’
I expect if they knew, they’d be pleased to be helping restore their beloved teashop to its former glory, and I was happy I could even the score with Mrs Muswell at the same time!