Page 104 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
Since he wasn’t carrying anything, I assumed he’d already loaded his luggage in, and I hoped he’d remembered the box for Edie.
I had no idea when he was coming back, either, but goodness knows, I had enough to keep me occupied. I now had a week and a half to finish the new book, so this was the Big Push. Then as soon as I’d got that off, there would be the mad dash to get the final preparations completed in time for the grand opening of The Fat Rascal.
I wasn’t at all sure Jack had grasped that writing is also work, not something I was doing for fun, preferably without interruptions. Still, he wasn’t here very much by then, just popping in between jobs for other customers in order to do all the minor things, like putting up a curtain track in the bow window of the café and fitting the inside of the kitchen cupboards with sliding and swinging racks to make getting at the contents easier. There were a million and one tiny touches like this and I had given him a fairly comprehensive list already, to which I continued adding afterthoughts.
And I kept doing sums and watching the expenses eat up the dwindling pool of insurance money, wondering if it would last until we opened.
I made an appointment with Nile’s accountant, which, though it took me away from the writing for a couple of hours, was helpful. I’d been unemployed since Dan’s death and I hadn’t earned enough from the writing alone to pay income tax, but now I needed to register as self-employed. The accountant would also help with all the staff employment and payroll issues, so he was going to make my life easier.
I’d already registered the teashop and now I heard that the premises would be inspected on a date less than three weeks away!
Apart from a slight panic when I got the notification in the post, the rest of the day was quiet – no Jack, no interruptions other than signing for a Special Delivery parcel for Nile. It was small, and probablyperfect. I wondered when he was coming home and I missed him dragging me away from my book to go to the pub that evening. But I had a nice long telephone chat with Lola instead.
She and the girls had now settled into the annexe, and were luxuriating in the space.
‘It’s bliss!’ she sighed. ‘I’ve got my furniture and everything out of storage and it all looks lovely. And there’s a galley kitchen and our own living room, too, so Mum and Dad can have their house back.’
‘I should think they love having you and the children around, so they won’t think of it that way,’ I told her.
‘I know, but I’m sure they’ll enjoy a bit of peace occasionally, and then they can close the doors upstairs and down.’
‘I bet the girls have fun on the smallholding, just like we did. I always loved feeding the hens and goats and helping to water the herbs in the big polytunnels for your dad.’
‘Yes, the twins seem most interested in the animals, but Rosie’s keener on gardening with Dad. How is that lovely Nile?’ she added.
‘I can’t imagine what I’ve said to make you think he’s lovely, but he’s away on a trip to Scotland, though I’ve barely noticed his absence,’ I lied, ‘because I’m working so hard on the book.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she said disbelievingly.
That’s the trouble with best friends: they can read between all the lines, even invisible ones.
Early on Wednesday morning I baked three different types of fruitcake in the interests of teashop research and then left them cooling on a rack.
Jack, having appeared with the intention of planing down the bottom of the back door, which tended to stick when the weather was damp, said the smell of them was driving him mad, so I told him to help himself to the Dundee cake with the glazed top. I had plans for the other two.
At lunchtime, when Jack and half the cake had vanished, but the door had ceased to stick, I took a break from writing and drove across the moors to keep my promise to George Godet.
His was the traditional-style cake I’d made, stuffed full of fruit, nuts and cherries. I’d put it in a plastic container, which was just as well because there was nobody home – not even the dogs, though actually, that was a relief. I left it where he’d told me to: popped in the old milk churn in the wall alcove. I put a note through the door, in case he didn’t check for random cakes on a regular basis.
I stopped at Oldstone Farm briefly on the way back, but there was no one in the house. I could see a light on in the Pondlife offices and hear the rhythmic thumping of clay from Sheila’s workshop but I didn’t want to disturb anyone and just left the final fruitcake in the kitchen with a note inviting the whole family to come and see the almost-finished teashop on Saturday morning.
Yes, Iamthe Blackdog Moor cake fairy.
Bel’s absence from home was explained when she called in later – having asked if it was OK to disturb me first – because she’d been to see Thom Carey again.
‘Geeta loved Mum’s cake stand so much, I thought I’d get her one too,’ she said a little self-consciously.
‘Any pretext to see Thom again?’ I teased.
‘No!’ she protested, going faintly and becomingly pink. ‘I mean, he’snice… but my divorce has barely come through and I’m really not looking for anyone new: once bitten, twice shy.’
‘I feel the same. I seem to have a knack of choosing men who won’t commit and I really don’t want to do it all over again.’
‘I know Nile’s track record isn’tgreat—’ she began.
‘Who mentioned Nile?’ I demanded indignantly.
‘Come off it, you can’t fool me. The way you two look at each other is the elephant in the room that we don’t talk about. Hereallylikes you, Alice. This time, it could be different.’
