Читать книгу The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts - Jennifer Joyce, Kerry Barrett - Страница 13

Sunday at the teashop was quiet (even by our usual standards) and even Robbie failed to turn up for his banana milkshake, so I sent Victoria home early to spend some time with Nathan. One of us may as well make the most of their loved-up status and, as I’d been single since my relationship with Joel ended, it obviously wasn’t going to be me.

Luckily, business picked up on Monday morning, with a breakfast rush (if you can call six customers a rush). The only downside was that Mags didn’t manage to get onto the council until mid-morning. Still, we were confident that our request would be approved. Why wouldn’t it? We wouldn’t damage the garden or prevent anybody else from using it. In fact, we’d be doing the council a favour by drawing attention to the neglected public area.

So it comes as an unexpected blow when we receive the rejection from the council a few days later, refusing permission to use the garden for our proposed summer party. We’re back at square one and nothing can haul us out of the slump the news has brought. Even The Builders, a group of jovial blokes who have been popping in for an afternoon treat once or twice a week while they’ve been working on a nearby housing development, fail to raise a smile. They usually arrive like sunshine in their fluorescent jackets, cracking jokes and making us laugh, but today we’re far too down in the dumps to play nicely. Even Owen, the foreman of the group, fails in his attempts to flirt with Mags.

‘Come to the pub with me tonight,’ Owen coaxes while a nonplussed Mags swipes at a table with a cloth. ‘I’ll cheer you up over a few drinks.’

‘It’ll take more than you buying me a few drinks to cheer me up,’ Mags says with a weary sigh.

‘Who said I was buying?’ Owen asks, which would usually crack us up but today it’s only Owen’s fellow builders, Connor and Little Jordan, who laugh while Mags and I can’t even raise a half-hearted smile to play along. Connor and Jordan (nicknamed ‘Little Jordan’ by his workmates as he’s on an apprenticeship scheme and the youngest on site) usually accompany Owen on the treat run, though others occasionally make the trip too. They’ve been popping into the teashop for the past six weeks and I’ll miss them when their job is completed and they move on. Although Mags will claim otherwise, she’ll miss Owen’s visits too.

‘Don’t be daft. He isn’t being serious,’ Mags will insist every time I broach the subject of her accepting Owen’s offer of a date, but her cheeks will take on a rosy tinge and her smile will be a little wider after his visits.

‘What are we going to do now?’ Victoria asks once The Builders have trooped out with their goodies. It’s her day off but she’s popped in with Nathan for a crisis meeting. They’re sitting at the rubber-duck-patterned table, Nathan’s hand making soothing circles on Victoria’s back. It’s so sweet, I have to look away otherwise I’ll either burst into tears or combust with jealousy.

‘We could still have the party,’ Mags says, though she can’t seem to muster much enthusiasm. ‘But on a smaller scale. We can do the samples as planned, just in here.’ She sits down opposite Victoria and Nathan, the corners of her mouth turning down. ‘I’m afraid that’d mean the band couldn’t play.’

Victoria nods. ‘It’s okay. It would have been fun, but the teashop and drumming up business is the most important part.’

‘And we’ll still help out if we can,’ Nathan says which, again, is incredibly sweet of him. ‘I’m not much use in the kitchen but I can hand out flyers and stuff. I’m sure the others will chip in too.’

I manage my first genuine smile since we received the council’s rejection. ‘That would be amazing, thank you.’

‘So we’re going ahead with the free samples?’ Mags asks.

‘Let’s do it,’ I say, because we have to do something and this is all we’ve got.

So we forge ahead with the revised plan over the next few days. I plan the menu of sample-sized treats, ordering the required supplies and plotting a timetable to keep me on track on the day, while Mags contacts a local printer to provide the advertising materials we need. Victoria, Mags and I will distribute the flyers between us during the run-up to the event, covering the town centre, the local college and as many of the nearby primary schools as we can.

On the actual day, Nathan and the band (minus Victoria) will distribute more flyers in the town centre to catch any potential last-minute customers. Mags has also placed an advert in the local paper and I’ve been busy putting up posters in every permitted spot in town. I’m currently tacking one of the posters to the teashop’s window to grab the attention of any passers-by.

‘Is this the party you were talking about last time I was here?’ Birdie asks. She’s sitting by the window with her usual bowl of apple crumble and custard while Franklin waits patiently outside, his doggy treat long gone.

‘Sort of.’ I step back, gauging whether the poster is straight. ‘We didn’t get permission to use the garden so we’re having a scaled-down version here in the teashop. There’ll be lots of free samples and Victoria’s going to do some face-painting for the kids.’ I grab a flyer from the box that I’ve kept handy behind the counter and hand it to Birdie.

‘I’ll see if my Caleb can pop along with Cara,’ she says. ‘She loved the cakes and biscuits I took home for our tea party so I’m sure she’ll want to come.’

‘They’re more than welcome,’ I tell Birdie as the door opens. Dad is stooped in the doorway, scratching Franklin behind the ears as he slowly inches inside the teashop. He finally straightens, closing the door reluctantly as Franklin blinks at him with wide eyes through the glass.

‘You’re just in time,’ I tell Dad as I lead him to one of the tables. ‘The apple crumble is just out of the oven.’ I seat Dad before heading into the kitchen where I scoop a generous serving of apple crumble into a bowl and pour on thick, freshly made custard.

‘Best apple crumble I’ve ever had,’ Birdie says, lifting her loaded spoon as I place the dish in front of Dad.

‘She’s a smashing little baker,’ Dad says, winking up at me. ‘Always has been.’

‘This is my Dad,’ I explain. ‘Dad, this is one of my most loyal customers, Mrs Conrad.’

‘Birdie, please.’ Birdie reaches a hand across the small distance and shakes Dad’s hand. ‘Mrs Conrad is what the children call me at school.’

‘You’re a teacher?’ Dad asks.

‘Semi-retired. I do supply work now, three days a week. Keeps my brain active but I still get to enjoy leisurely days, stuffing myself with Maddie’s apple crumble. What is it you do …? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Clive,’ Dad says and I back away, leaving them to bond over their apple crumble while I join Mags in the office. She seems to spend more time in here than she does in the teashop and each time I see her hunched over the books at the desk, I grow more and more anxious.

‘The poster’s up,’ I tell Mags. ‘And Nathan and the others are going to pass the flyers out in exchange for baked goods.’ I’m doubly grateful for Nathan and the band’s generosity. They’ve not only stepped in to help spread the word, they’re doing it for free. ‘This is going to work, isn’t it?’

Mags tries to smile, though she can’t quite pull it off and it resembles a grimace. ‘I hope so. I really, really do.’

The alternative is unthinkable, so I busy myself with a bit of cleaning, making a start on the washing up while we’re quiet. Dad and Birdie are the only customers in the teashop and, as they’re entertaining themselves, I’m not really needed out in the teashop. Dad and Birdie are still chatting away as I clear their empty dishes but Birdie says her goodbyes when a fed-up Franklin start to yap outside the door.

‘Don’t forget these.’ I wave the usual bag of doggy treats and Birdie tuts and says I shouldn’t go to any trouble. ‘It’s no trouble. You know that.’

‘Franklin appreciates you going to the trouble, no matter what you say, so thank you from both of us.’ Birdie places the treats in her handbag and zips up her jacket. ‘I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Clive.’

‘You too, Birdie,’ Dad says and he waves as Birdie and Franklin pass the window.

‘Cup of tea?’ I ask Dad.

He checks his watch and nods. ‘I should have enough time to squeeze a quick one in.’ I make cups of tea for Dad, Mags and I, placing a cup beside Mags in the office before joining Dad out in the teashop.

‘So how’s your mum?’ Dad asks as he takes a sip.

‘Good, I think.’ I haven’t actually seen Mum since I last visited Dad so I have no further news. I can see Dad is itching for more information so I’m glad when Nicky descends noisily into the teashop, flopping down onto one of the chairs at our table.

‘So all the shops in the street now have a flyer in their window,’ she says as she shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over the back of her chair.

‘Sorry?’ I have no idea what Nicky is talking about.

‘The flyers. For the party tomorrow. I offered to put one in the salon window and Mags said yes. I thought I may as well ask the others if they’d put one up too and they all agreed. Rehana and George weren’t so keen at first, the miserable buggers, until I pointed out that Rehana’s eyebrows were looking a bit uneven and offered to tidy them up for mate’s rates.’

‘Thank you.’ I’m taken aback by how kind everyone is being. ‘Let me get you a cup of tea and some cake. On the house.’

‘Don’t be daft. You’re going to be giving away more than enough freebies tomorrow.’ Nicky grabs her purse and heads over to the fridge to see what we have on offer today. She selects a chocolate fudge cupcake before joining Dad again. They see each other quite regularly in the teashop so they chat easily but it wouldn’t matter if Dad was a stranger; Nicky has such a breezy confidence and a chatterbox nature, she could start a conversation with thin air.

‘Have you thought any more about asking Jane out?’ I ask Dad when I join them with Nicky’s cup of tea. I’ve asked in front of Nicky on purpose so she can back me up.

Dad shakes his head. ‘I’ve told you, I’m too old for all that dating malarkey.’ Dad says the word ‘dating’ as though it’s the new term for dogging, scrunching up his nose and almost shuddering at the mere thought.

Nicky is about to plunge the cupcake into her mouth but she pauses, cocking an eyebrow at Dad. ‘I beg your pardon? Nobody is too old for dating. I’m going to be dating until the day I’m shoved into a wooden box and buried in the ground.’

‘Oh, come on,’ I scoff. ‘I bet even death won’t stop you.’

Nicky laughs. ‘That’s true. I’ll probably flirt with the undertaker as he’s embalming me.’ She turns to Dad, eyebrows low to show her sincerity now. ‘Seriously, Clive. You’re never too old to date and you’re only what … mid-fifties?’

Nicky knows this isn’t true but her flattery works and the corners of Dad’s lips lift. ‘Sixty-two.’

‘Really?’ I think the squeak in Nicky’s voice is overkill but Dad is lapping it up, full-on grinning now.

‘I’ll be sixty-three in a couple of months.’

‘Wow, you’re looking good, Clive. This Jane is a very lucky woman. You should definitely ask her out.’

Dad’s grin slips. ‘Nah. I’m really not after a relationship. Far too long in the tooth for all that.’

‘Who said anything about a relationship?’ Nicky asks. ‘Go out, have a bit of fun. No strings.’ She winks at Dad and I feel a shudder of my own coming on. ‘You only live once, Clive.’

‘Why don’t you bring Jane along tomorrow?’ I suggest, and not only because it’ll mean an extra body in the teashop.

‘Like I said …’ Dad stands and slips on his jacket ‘… I’m too old for all that, strings or not.’