Page 38 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
‘I suppose it could, now I come to think about it, but they still had to know the way because, at the time, only a handful of tourists used to visit the Oldstone. It’s more popular now because of the Charlotte Brontë connection to a nearby farm. They found a diary last year saying she was inspired to create Mr Rochester by the farmer living there. Did you read about that?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, it was discovered by one of my favourite novelists, Eleri Groves, and she went on to marry the current owner of the farm,’ I said, and then something struck me. ‘Didn’t it say in that article that the farmer who found me was called Godet? Only Eleri married a Henry Godet.’
‘Oh, yes, so it did – but I think there are loads of Godets round there and they’re all related.’
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ I said. ‘It’s so odd how these coincidences keep happening. I mean, I’ve actuallymetEleri Groves! Years ago I won afternoon tea with her at Framling’s Famous Tearooms in London – that’s what sparked my idea for the tea emporium!’
‘It’s serendipity, and truth being stranger than fiction,’ Bel said.
‘Yes, and it means that at least I should be able to track down the farmer who found me, with that name. When I feel brave enough, of course …’
‘There might be more detail in some of the small local papers,’ Bel suggested. ‘TheUpvale and District Gazetteis the biggest and it covers Haworth, too.’
‘I’ll look another time,’ I said. ‘I want to take in what we’ve found first – and it’s getting late.’
‘OK, one step at a time,’ Bel agreed.
As I drew my bedroom curtains against the dense, starless darkness of the night, I thought of the ancient stone topping the distant hill and shivered.
I’d have to make a pilgrimage up to the bleak spot where I was found one day soon, and I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it.
I completed my medical training with flying colours, having no interest in the student drinking culture and general silliness that distracted so many of my peers.
At one time I considered becoming a pathologist, since the dead don’t require their doctors to exhibit any kind of bedside manner and I was forever being told that I didn’t have one.
But in the end I joined a general practice near a well-known Scottish golf course. Having initially taken up the game in my early teens to please Father, I had soon become the better player and found it a pleasant and healthy exercise. A relaxing non-alcoholic beverage or two in the members’ clubhouse afterwards formed the main part of my social life and I was perfectly content.
17
Beetle Drive
Next day I was to meet Rory at noon in the main car park near the Brontë Parsonage Museum, which would be easier than his attempting to find the way to the back of the café alone. A friend who was studying at Leeds University would then pick him up and they’d spend a couple of days together before he returned to Scotland.
Bel had told me that Nile usually stayed at Oldstone until after Sunday lunch, before returning to his flat, and she volunteered to drive me into Haworth instead.
‘We could set off early and get the paint for the flat on the way, if you like?’ she offered. ‘Unless you want to try the test pots first?’
‘I think I know what I want for the flat now, so that would be great,’ I told her. ‘I’ll need to get some brushes and rollers, too, I suppose.’
‘Unless you’re going to paint the walls with your fingers,’ Nile commented, having wandered in in search of breakfast.
He hadn’t yet shaved and his hair was unusually rumpled, which oddly I found rather more attractive than his normal vision of manly perfection … in fact, my heart seemed to stop for a moment and then resume with a heavy thud. I looked away quickly, though I could feel myself blushing.
‘Would anyone like to cook my breakfast for me?’ he asked, with a winning smile.
‘No, but you’ve got plenty of time to cook your own, becauseI’mdriving Alice in,’ Bel told him.
‘Is your car on the way?’ he asked me.
I busied myself with clearing away my plate and mug, so I didn’t have to look at him. ‘Yes, Rory sent me a text very early when he set out, so you won’t have to worry about having to give me lifts any more.’
‘I wasn’t actually worried,’ he said enigmatically, then began getting out the ingredients for what looked like a breakfast banquet for six, so we left him to it.
‘If I can paint the flat before the bed comes on Friday, I could actually move in at the end of the week,’ I suggested to Bel later, as we headed back to Haworth with the paint.
‘I think I’d make the official move next Sunday or Mum will be upset and think you don’t like staying with us,’ Bel said with a grin. ‘You could go back after lunch, like Nile does.’
‘Well … if you think so,’ I agreed.
