Page 122 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
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: Nilewasattracted to me andIcould so very easilylet 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.
AndIneeded to be up early tomorrow too, because the teashop was having its official inspection and I wanted to make sure it wasperfect.
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, oralmostsure, 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’dhaveto 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 timelast 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 befine,’ 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.
