Page 59 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
I suspected this was how it was always going to be now.
Nile had returned from wherever he’d been, because later when I’d popped out to buy fish and chips, he accepted a parcel delivery for me and brought it over as soon as I got back. Maybe he could smell the chips from Small and Perfect?
‘It’s sample linen-look easy-care napkins, I think. Come up to the flat and I’ll share my fish and chips and make some coffee,’ I suggested, hoping to soften him up in case he was intending to complain about the book launch. ‘They give you huge portions.’
‘An offer I can’t resist,’ he said, following me up the stairs. ‘And I deserve it, seeing Sheila’s ordered me to take you to a fancy-dress party on Saturday,’ he added, but he seemed gloomily resigned to the event, rather than cross, which was a relief.
I only hope he didn’t think I’d angled for him to take me.
Father had already had a suite of rooms converted for himself on the ground floor, so once I had arranged for an efficient team of carers to come in from a good agency, he was entirely comfortable.
I subscribed to Sky Sports, so he could watch golf to his heart’s content, and made sure those of his old cronies he was still on speaking terms with knew they were always welcome to visit for tea.
Father also quickly became attached to my dog, Drogo, who provided an interest and diversion. He had never before shown any interest in pets, so this was a surprise to me.
24
Edited Out
By Friday the café looked completely chaotic, with not only Jack and his assistant ripping things out, but an electrician gouging holes and channels in the plaster and a plumber consigning the cracked and chipped tiles, toilets and hand basins into the skip we’d managed to squeeze on to the parking area at the back, next to the cars. It was as if the place had been besieged by an army of large and destructive termites.
There was a constant cloud of dust, and grit underfoot, and when Tilda came round, she threw up her hands at the state of it and cleaned my flat instead. But she said she was looking forward to the day when she could give downstairs a good going over again. I didn’t think I’d ever met anyone before who actuallyenjoyedcleaning.
Even outside the café, things had begun to change, for the sign had been taken away for repainting, the remains of the plant tubs removed and the rotten bits of the Victorian trellis-sided porch replaced.
Aided off and on by Bel and Nile, I’d finished painting the café walls and woodwork, too – and all the horrible tables and chairs had been sold to Nile’s contact and removed in a box van. I only got twenty pounds for the lot, but it lookedsomuch better without them.
Apart from painting the tiny office, there wasn’t much more I could do until the professionals had finished their bit (although I was constantly called down for an opinion, information, or simply to admire some piece of work), so I retired to the flat to list all the things I wanted to ask Senga about next day … and then after that, by way of light relief, I wrote another scene of the new book.
‘What’s all this, then?’ said a commanding voice, and a man in dark blue livery stepped into the room. ‘Breaking and entering again, Kev?’
‘I never broke nothing, Officer,’ said Kev virtuously. ‘This lady invited me in – didn’t you, love?’
‘In a way,’ Beauty agreed, thrilled that already Prince Kev had called her his love.
Then the man in blue said, sounding puzzled, ‘What beats me is why I didn’t ever notice this place before? It doesn’t seem right to me.’
‘It’s because it was enchanted, but something must have gone wrong with the spell, because I woke up before Kev kissed me,’ Beauty told him.
‘Am I dreaming this?’ The man frowned.
‘Not unless we’re both having the same dream,’ said Kev.
‘Right …’ said the man. Then his attention was caught by a sudden rattling noise from the next room and he added, suspiciously, ‘What’s through there, then?’
He flung open the door even as Beauty and the mouse both yelled together: ‘Don’t go in there!’
I got to Oldstone in time for dinner as Sheila had suggested, wishing I didn’t have to go to the book launch party next day. I could have done with a restful weekend.
I certainly didn’t get a lot of rest that night, once Sheila and Geeta had tightly bound up my hair in long strips of cotton ripped from an old pillowcase, because the only way to describe how my head felt was knobbly.
I was forbidden to remove the rags until after breakfast next day, too, so I was glad Nile wasn’t coming over until later in the morning.
It was a huge relief when Bel and Sheila finally unwound them and then coaxed my hair into side ringlets, with more cascading at the back from a high topknot. Then they helped me into my dress, which was now a perfect fit.
Sheila had found me a green velvet reticule to go with the outfit, as well as the shawl she’d mentioned, which was a huge and fringed affair made from fine paisley-patterned cashmere.
‘I feel a complete prat,’ I said ungratefully, when they’d finished and we’d adjourned to the kitchen.
