The Cosy Teashop in the Castle Page 19

  19

  Ellie

  He never came.

  Ellie had ended up taking a stroll around the walled gardens – that just happened to be beneath his windows. It was a warm night and she didn’t feel like being cooped up in her room.

  In bed later she listened for a creak of the floorboards above her, evidence that he was still there in the castle, but couldn’t tell if it was the usual creaks and groans of the castle pipework or his footsteps. Yes, she knew she was being paranoid, and no, he hadn’t sworn to love her for ever, or even arranged to see her again in any personal way, but she’d just hoped, hadn’t she?

  Hope – it lifted you up, made anything seem possible. It was a dangerous thing.

  Joe

  He put his foot down hard on the accelerator and revved away along the driveway, gravel flying out behind his wheels, leaving the castle behind him. He just needed some time out and a bit of space. Things had moved on way too fast. And, he had to admit, that scared him a little.

  Henry’s words, the other week, about not getting too involved, mocked him. He’d always vowed never to get into any personal relationships with anyone at the castle – not that he’d ever felt the want, or need, to before. … Well, he’d gone and done it now.

  And the best and the worst of it was she’d been great, really lovely, and somewhat surprisingly hot as hell – like something had let loose in her within those bedroom walls. A more-than-pleasant discovery. But this was all getting out of hand. She was a really nice girl, and this was going to be so hard – having to come back and tell her that it couldn’t carry on.

  Just thinking about it made him feel crap. Why the hell had he let himself get drawn in? Let it happen? All these years he’d sworn he’d never be the same. Never to do that to anyone. That he was different. And here he was. History repeating its bloody self. He’d get out quick, while he could.

  He swerved out of the huge stone gateposts onto the lanes.

  But, then again, could they make a go of it? Why did he have to be so fearful? Something was niggling inside. But he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t let it all go wrong, let her get attached, end up hurting her even more than he’d have to now. Better this way. He knew that well enough.

  He took a bend too sharp – there’d been a cyclist coming. Shit. That was way too close. He received a one-fingered salute, which he well deserved. Mouthed ‘Sorry’. Right, slow down, take it steady … Steady, you should have thought of that three days ago, instead of letting yourself get caught up in all this, his mind mocked. Stupid twat.

  Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.

  But she was so damned lovely.

  Now, that got him thinking again, reminding him of her skin against his, her lips pressed tight to his. The way she’d had him up against that wall. Sweet Jesus. And you’re going to put a stop to it? Are you mad?

  But it had gone beyond sex already. Don’t get involved. Don’t let it get to where something goes wrong. Which it inevitably always does.

  Watch the road! A pheasant – brainless bird – strutted into the road as the car approached. He slowed, there was no telling what those birds would do, and if you collided, well, they could make one hell of a mess of themselves and the front end of your car, as he’d learned to his peril some years ago. He was glad when he reached the junction at the A1, away from all the dangers of the countryside.

  He’d decided to give himself a bit of time out and spend a couple of days back at home. Visit his mam. She was so pleased when he called last night, he could hear the smile in her voice. It had been a while – he usually got home every month or so. She wouldn’t visit him at the castle. He could picture her, there in her kitchen, busy preparing one of his favourite meals. They had a bigger house now, semi-detached, still on the edge of Byker. She loved being near the river for a wander along the Tyne, watching the boats come in and out, the tourists and the hen nights, the hustle and bustle of the quayside. And her friends were all there, she’d reassured Joe when he’d left to work at the castle. Joe found himself smiling, calming, just thinking about her. She’d been his inspiration, even if she had got herself in a bit of a mess in those early years. ‘No one ever got anywhere by sitting on their backside, Joseph,’ she’d comment, in her sing-song Geordie accent.

  Maybe he could have a chat with her about Ellie while he was home. He hadn’t ever spoken in any depth about his personal relationships with his mam before, but felt himself floundering with this one, like he might need some advice. She’d had relationships, not always good ones, for sure, but she’d seen a lot of life.

  He was still feeling shit about having to tell Ellie that it couldn’t go on; he remembered that day when she opened up to him about her ex-fiancé, her broken wedding date. Well, he was hardly much better himself, was he? Though he hadn’t betrayed her, or gone off with anyone else, he’d still abused her heart. Maybe his mam could give some advice on how to say the right thing, put it gently to her. Damage limitation.

  While he was there in Newcastle, he was also going to tie in a visit to the Wedding Fayre at the Hilton on the quayside, pick up some tips, and see who was advertising wedding venues locally, what the competition would be like, and get some ideas on how they could promote the castle for next year. The license had finally been agreed by the council, so they needed a final push to persuade Lord Henry it was the way to go, get themselves organised, get everything tip-top and make Claverham Castle the place to get hitched. And he’d need Ellie’s help, enthusiasm and professionalism to do that – why, oh why, had he messed things up between them? Weddings, huh – yes, he could get the venue looking great, serve amazing food, set up a marquee, but after that, really, when did marriages ever work out? Mam had always said she was better off on her own. He knew only too well that life wasn’t always sunshine and roses.

  * * *

  Ellie

  Every time the kitchen door swung open, she hoped it might be him. But no, just Doris or Nicola ferrying cups and saucers for the dishwasher, and Colin, the gardener, for a sneaky coffee refill to take out with him. Ellie handed him a homemade cookie for good measure.

  Derek and Malcolm appeared at lunchtime to buy a couple of sandwiches.

  ‘How are things going, Ellie? Looks busy out front. Have you got time to make us up a couple of ham and mustards on brown, petal?’ Malcolm popped his head round the swing door of the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, and you’d better pop in a slice of your Lemon D. I just love that stuff.’ Derek added, at his shoulder now.

  ‘Remember your waistline now, Derek,’ Malcolm quipped.

  ‘It’ll keep me going on the tourist trail this afternoon.’

  ‘Well, it’s looking like business is building here, Ellie. Nearly a full house in there. We keep sending them your way. It’s become part of the tour now. We finish at the teashop door by some odd chance, and then tell them how marvellous the lemon drizzle and your choffee cake is. They just can’t resist.’

  So that was where a lot of her new trade was coming from. How lovely of them! No need for billboards when she had walking, talking tour guides to promote her.

  ‘Thanks, gents, that’s brilliant of you.’ And she added an extra slice of lemon drizzle to the package. ‘Enjoy.’

  ‘We always do.’ Malcom gave her a cheeky wink, and they were off.

  But even with their chatty banter, it was getting to her. There was someone else she really wanted to see. Where the hell was he? Even before they’d got it together she saw him just about every day, even if it was a quick ‘hi’ and a wave across the courtyard. He must be avoiding her, but why?

  After the lunchtime rush, Ellie nipped off to find Deana, on the pretence of going to the loo. Maybe she’d know something. There was some archery event to be held in the castle grounds for the August bank holiday that Joe had mentioned to Ellie. She might need to cater for it at the end of the month. She’d say she needed a word with him about that.

  Deana’s office was cool and dim, even in high summer. She
sat huddled in a thick cardie.

  ‘Hi, Ellie.’ She gave her a warm smile nonetheless.

  ‘Deana, you haven’t seen Joe about, have you?’

  ‘No, he’s not in today, lovey.’

  Ellie’s heart plummeted. He must be taking an extra day off or something. And he hadn’t thought to tell her, even after everything – the closeness she thought they had shared. Had he just used her? ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, he called in yesterday, said he was going to take a couple of days off. I got the impression he might be going home to his mum’s. But he wasn’t in a chatty mood. Didn’t seem himself. So I didn’t press for details.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Are you alright, Ellie?’

  She must have gone pale or something.

  ‘Oh, yes, fine. No worries,’ Ellie rallied, masking the feelings of rejection. ‘I’ll catch him later when he’s back, then.’ She tried to capture a blasé tone.

  ‘Nothing I can help with?’ Deana ventured.

  Ellie just shook her head, biting the inside of her mouth to stop the tears that were starting to well. She didn’t think Deana would have any magic potions to heal fractured hearts.

  ‘No, it’s fine. I was just wondering about the archery thing coming up, that’s all. It can wait.’

  There was a second of silence. Deana looked kindly at Ellie. ‘He can be quite deep sometimes, can Joe.’

  Was Deana hinting that she knew there might be something going on between them? Did she know something? Had he talked to her? Ellie was curious, but didn’t want to look an idiot. ‘Oh no, it’s nothing personal.’ Lies, lies, little white lies. Falling like dust to smother her feelings. She’d better get out of here before she gave anything away. ‘Okay, then, thanks. That’s fine, Deana. I’d better be getting back to the teashop.’

  ‘Well, you know where I am, if you ever need a chat.’

  Ellie left the offer hanging in the air. Deana gave her a kind, yet quizzical, look as she dashed out.

  *

  The news of his departure ate away at Ellie. And the fact he hadn’t even thought to tell her. She’d been waiting for him for the past day and a half like some lovelorn pup. Why, why, why had she let herself get involved again? Why did her stupid feelings have to get in the way? Why couldn’t she have normal one-night stand sex like other people – have a bit of fun, stay detached – like Joe obviously had. But how did you do that? How did you stay detached, when you were already in way too deep?

  ‘Well, then, what’s up with you, lassie?’ Doris dropped her tray down with a clatter on the kitchen side and folded her arms under her ample bosom. ‘You’ve had a face on like a wet weekend these past two days.’

  Crikey, was it that obvious? But the last person she wanted to confide in was Doris – the castle broadsheet.

  ‘Oh, I’m okay.’

  Doris just stood shaking her head slowly, ‘I know when someone’s okay and when they’re not …’ her tone softened, ‘Look, it’s quietened down out there. Nicola can keep an eye on the last two tables while I make you a good strong cup of tea.’

  There was no arguing about it. And a cup of tea did actually sound good.

  ‘Alright, then, thank you.’ But she still wasn’t going to tell her anything.

  Doris was filling the kettle. ‘There’s something up with you and Joe, isn’t there?’

  Jesus Christ, she didn’t miss a trick, did she? Ellie said nothing, just watched Doris busying herself with a teapot and two mugs.

  ‘One minute he’s high as a kite,’ Doris prattled on, ‘Big grin on his face, the works. The next he’s heading off to his car. Well, looking very much like you are now. I don’t suppose that’s connected in any way …’

  She had Ellie’s full attention now. ‘When was that, Doris? When did he go?’

  ‘Yesterday afternoon. Soon as he’d finished work, he was heading off the same time as me. I was waiting outside for Clifford to fetch me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ellie tried to smile, but it just wasn’t working right.

  Doris poured the hot water in the teapot, ‘Look, I know I can come across as a nosy old bat sometimes.’ She knew that? ‘But when people are close to me, when it’s something I knows is a bit serious, well, believe it or not, I can keep things close to my chest.’ She gave a broad, caring smile. Then handed Ellie a steaming cup of tea; she’d popped in a teaspoon of sugar for good measure.

  Ellie let out a long sigh, ‘When you saw him go, did he say anything to you? Like where or why he was off?’

  ‘Wasn’t my place to ask, hinnie. But I got the feeling he had some thinking to do.’

  ‘Deana said she thought he’d gone home. Back to Newcastle for a couple of nights.’

  ‘Sounds likely. His mam’s down that way.’

  Ellie sipped the sweet tea. Wondering if she really could trust Doris. There was something in the way the middle-aged woman was looking at her, with genuine concern. ‘We … Well, we kind of got it together,’ Ellie wasn’t about to go into any details, ‘But now he’s just upped and left. He could at least have told me if he was going to go home.’

  ‘I doubt he’ll be away long. He never takes much leave at this time in the summer season, pet. He’ll probably be back tomorrow.’

  Hmn, he might soon be back at the castle, but not with her, by the looks of things. She’d be lucky if he was even speaking to her. He’d been in some rush to get away, hadn’t he?

  ‘Don’t fret too much, pet. These things have a way of working themselves out.’

  Ellie couldn’t sleep that night. The teashop finances, which were better but not brilliant, and this latest episode with Joe, was all spinning around in her mind. She checked her watch again, 3.15 a.m. She’d been awake at least an hour now.

  She could just get up, get some baking done, a batch of brownies or something, down in the teashop kitchen – at least she’d be doing something useful with her time. It seemed a lot better than lying here tossing and turning.

  Right, that was it, she was getting up. She pulled on her dressing gown over her pyjamas, found her slippers. Grabbed the little torch her dad had given her as she had moved into the castle, just in case – being unsure if they lit the castle at night, or where all the switches would be en route to the tearooms.

  As she got to the bottom of the stone stairs, she saw that it was teeming with rain outside; she’d be drenched before she got across the courtyard. There was another way through to the tearooms, Derek and Malcolm had shown her on their tour that day. Across the castle on the first floor via the Georgian drawing room. It was worth a try. She was up and ready now. Back up the stairs, she found the right door. It wasn’t locked. She headed on through in the half light, guided by the beam of her torch. She stepped out tentatively into the drawing room, wondering if it might be alarmed, and then she’d have the whole of the castle up. Well, Lord Henry, anyhow, and perhaps an alert to the Northumbrian police force. That’d make her popular.

  No flashing lights or sirens, so she carried on. She realised she was in the room that Malcolm had mentioned objects had moved around in, and felt a sense of chill. What if there was any truth in it …? Right, Ellie, stop being a scaredy-cat and just get on with it and walk on through. She scanned the room. There was a shadowy figure sitting on the chesterfield sofa.

  Oh my God – that was not her imagination. There really was something there!

  She crept along the walkway, keeping an eye on it. Nearly at the door now, when it moved, taking a sip from what looked like a cup in its hand.

  ‘Whah!’ the shriek escaped her lips before she could stop it.

  The figure stood up, ‘What the devil …?’

  Ellie jumped out of her skin. ‘Shit!’

  Was this some ancient ancestor ghost, maybe? It looked like it was dressed in a long stripy dressing gown, but the light was dim, the spectre of a half-moon glowed silver-grey at the window. In her panic she’d dropped the torch.

  ‘Ellen?’ It knew her name. Weird. ‘What th
e devil are you doing up at this hour of the night? Where on earth are you going? You’re not sleep-walking, are you?’

  The voice coming out of the blackness sounded just like Lord Henry.

  ‘Lord Henry? Jeez, you frightened the life out of me.’ She found the torch and beamed it across at him. ‘Oh, it is you, Lord Henry. I thought I’d seen a ghost.’ She managed a nervous laugh, the fear, now unfounded, still flitting inside her.

  He chuckled. ‘No, only an old man who can’t sleep sitting in his living room. Sometimes there’s rather a lot on my mind … I’ve always liked this room. Can’t make use of it in the daytime now, with all the bloody tourists wandering about.’

  ‘Yes, it is a lovely room.’

  ‘Get fed up cooped up in my living quarters, same bloody four walls. If I can’t sleep I have a wander sometimes, have a cup of tea.’

  She remembered Malcolm’s story of the teacups left on the side, the furniture of the drawing room mysteriously being moved, smiled to herself. So, Trevor – the Drawing Room Ghost – was revealed. Mind you, it seemed a shame to tell. She’d keep this between herself and Lord Henry – leave Malcolm with his theories.

  ‘So, Ellen, what are you doing up here at this time of the night, anyhow?’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t sleeping well either, so I thought I’d get up and do a bit of baking for tomorrow. I’d have gone the courtyard way, but it was tipping with rain … sorry to have disturbed you.’

  ‘I see, well then, I suppose I’d better not stop you.’

  ‘Night then, Lord Henry. Can I make you another cup of tea or anything, pop it up to you?’

  ‘No thanks, Ellen. I might just try and head back to my bed in a while. Goodnight.’

  ‘Night.’ So, in the half light of the moon, with not a ghost in sight, she headed for the tearooms and left him in peace. This place really was a little crazy sometimes.

  So she made it through the tearoom day on three hours’ sleep. Heading back up the stone stairwell to her room, Ellie couldn’t help but look out through each portcullis window, just in case. The long, thin rectangles gave a snapshot of the avenue of trees that lined the driveway, and … a shifting vehicle … an outline of a tall, dark-haired driver. Her nerves stretched like elastic the nearer it came. A VW Silver Golf. She recognised a couple of letters in the registration plate.