The Cosy Teashop in the Castle Read online

  So, Joe was back.

  And nothing. All night she’d waited for that knock on her door, her guts churning with a sense of expectation. Okay, yes, she’d been a coward and retreated to her room rather than wait to face him on the stairs. She’d heard his footsteps coming up … and go past. Of course, he’d have to set down his bags, maybe take a shower. So she watched TV, pushed pasta that she’d microwaved for her supper around a plate. Imagined some sexy reunion, or maybe just a few kind words, a smile, a ‘sorry, I had to go away for a couple of days, Mum was ill … I forgot to mention … already had it planned’, even the inevitable heart-sinking ‘thanks but no thanks, it was great but just a bit of a fling’. But nothing. A whole horrid, wretched evening of wondering, hoping and dreading, that came to nothing. What did that mean, then?

  Up at seven, then down to the teashop to make today’s batch of scones and chocolate cookies. Kneading the dough rather roughly today, but it felt therapeutic. Well, if they didn’t have a future, at least she’d give everything to making the tearooms the best they could possibly be. She didn’t need Joe-bloody-Ward in her life. She was going to flyer-drop for the school summer holidays, get details in the local papers, leaflets in the tourist information, do a ‘Tea for Two’ special on a weekday afternoon, ‘Senior Citizens’ Monday Lunch’. She was going to give Ellie’s Teashop her all. And she had plenty of ideas to take forward the wedding buffet menus, whenever Joe decided to show up and start speaking with her again.

  It was early August now, only three months left until the end of the season, the end of October. But then what? Foolishly, she hadn’t really considered the coming winter months. Unless the weddings got up and running quickly and they had a booking or two, then there was nothing to keep her here. She’d managed to save £400 towards paying her dad back, but she hadn’t managed to save enough from the teashop takings to keep her going financially over the winter. In fact, nearly all of Nanna’s savings had gone too. What would she do when the castle closed? She’d have to go back home to Newcastle, take on some casual work.

  And would she come back next spring, if the position was held for her? Could she face it after all this palaver with Joe?

  It was all starting to feel overwhelming – she’d just have to take one day at a time. The first batch of scones was ready to come out of the oven. The next, sultana-and-orange ones, were ready to go in. She slid the tray onto the oven shelf, took out the others. They smelled gorgeous, hot, buttery and doughy.

  And then, what she’d hoped for every minute of the past two days happened – the swing door of the kitchen opened and there was Joe. She didn’t know whether to melt or freeze.

  ‘Ellie, would you mind popping up to my office for a quick chat?’ His tone was awfully formal and his usual smile was strained.

  Oh, Jeez, had she done something wrong? Was there something besides the personal stuff going on? Some trouble with the castle, the teashop?

  * * *

  Joe

  Well, he might as well get this over with. Be as professional as possible. And call things on a personal level to a halt.

  He’d had time to mull things over, and it seemed the only way forward. Mam hadn’t been as helpful as he’d hoped on the advice front. She’d actually told him to follow his heart – that if he felt he might be falling for Ellie, then why not give it a try? That he shouldn’t miss out on love. What the hell was love anyway? He liked her a lot, was that the same, was it enough? No, if he had any doubt then he had to stop things now. And ‘follow your heart’? Look where that had left his mother, left high and dry as a single parent to a life of grind. He hadn’t even met his damned father till six years ago. No, he never wanted to go down that route. He couldn’t risk ending up like him, getting it wrong, getting some girl pregnant, breaking her heart.

  There was a knock. The door swung open and she was there, hair pulled up in a ponytail, her face tense. He saw the rise of her bosom under a casual white T-shirt, the curve of her hips in black trousers, and he felt his heart lodge somewhere in his throat.

  ‘Ah-hem,’ he coughed. He could do this. Had to do this. ‘Thanks for popping up, Ellie.’ This was going to be harder than he had imagined. Get to the point, man. Get it over with. Put the both of you out of your misery.

  She looked so lovely there, and yet so damned sad, as though she knew what was coming. He felt such a shit. She’d already had one dickhead of an ex-fiancé mess up her life.

  She stayed quiet, facing him, waiting.

  ‘Please, take a seat. Ellie … look, what happened, these past few days. Well, I don’t think it should happen again. You and me, I mean. I’m sorry.’ There, it was said. Done.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Her eyes had totally lost their sparkle. She looked hurt.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. But it was inevitable – better now than if they’d got more attached.

  Yet he didn’t want her to think he hadn’t liked her, that he was just using her. ‘Umn, it was good … nice.’ Feeble words. He couldn’t possibly let her know just how good. ‘But we still need to work together. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place. It wasn’t very professional of me.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Not okay, not okay. But, she wasn’t giving anything away. Her voice sounded cool.

  ‘Anyway, I think we need to put things back on a professional basis. I wouldn’t want it to affect the way we work together. The teashop has been doing well, and there’s been some great feedback. I wouldn’t want to jeopardise that in any way.’

  ‘No, I totally agree.’

  ‘Well, I hope we can still be friends.’ God, he sounded so clichéd, even to himself. He had been doing well until now, but his voice squeaked a bit on that last phrase – he hoped she hadn’t noticed. And his throat was parchment-dry, and clogged up. Okay, it was said. And it hadn’t made him feel any better at all. As for clearing the air, it felt like there was static between them. She sat there, calm and quiet, however. Why didn’t she shout and tell him what a twat he was? Being professional to the last, no doubt. Dammit, isn’t that what he’d just asked for? He saw her make a move to stand. She was going to go.

  He stood up as well. Just the desk between them. His gaze landed on those luscious lips he had so enjoyed kissing. You’ll never be able to kiss them again or hold her in your arms. What are you doing, you idiot?

  She turned away, her words reaching him, ‘Yes, I understand, Joe. I’d better get back to work now.’

  He could still stop her. Hold her close, like every cell of his body was yearning to do.

  He let her go.

  * * *

  Ellie

  So, she was just a big mistake, then. And just how were they meant to work together as though nothing had happened? When every damned second she could picture him naked, feel his touch, smell him. She kneaded cookie dough with a fist.

  Oh well, she’d show him. She’d make the teashop the very best it could be. The figures were starting to creep up on last year’s, and she had her plans to put a flyer out before the weekend, and an advert in the local press. Yes, she had lots of ideas to put into place: she’d do proper afternoon teas, kids-eat-half-price for the school holidays, and once the schools were back, a mid-week lunch offer for pensioners. Even Lord Henry seemed to be warming to her, or to her homemade quiche, to be precise. He’d taken to dropping by a couple of times a week at closing time, to pick up a takeaway supper of quiche, new potatoes and salad. He insisted on paying, but Ellie would slip an extra slice of cake in with the order. He’d chat briefly, then head off to his quarters. He still remained resolutely private, but the coolness had thawed and in his snippets of conversation she got the feeling that he was pleased with how the teashop was going.

  So Joe couldn’t contemplate giving the lease to someone else, not if she had Lord Henry on-side. Or could he? And next year, would she want to come back? Put herself in this situation again, where every time she looked at him, she’d remember. And it
would hurt all over again. The selfish, user, loser, bastard, twat! Twat. Twat. Twat. He wasn’t worth it.

  But how did she get it so very wrong again? How did she let someone in, past her defences, just to hurt her? When it had seemed like he really cared, had felt something for her too? She must be such a crap judge of character … Or was it just that all men were like that?

  20

  Ellie

  She didn’t mean to, but she folded when she was speaking to Gemma that night. She’d phoned her, wanting to hear a friendly voice, chit-chat about girlie things. She wasn’t going to tell her about Joe, how things had moved on so fantastically, but then been crushed by his absence and his damning decision. Like she was some minion beneath him, needing to be kept at a distance. No need to mingle with the staff. Not once you’ve given them a good shagging, anyhow. Had he just used her all along?

  And it all poured out, along with the tears.

  ‘Right, that’s it. I’m coming up to have words with this Joe bloke. Who the hell does he think he is?’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He’s my landlord. I still have to work with him.’

  ‘He can’t get away with treating you like that, Ellie.’

  ‘Please, just leave it.’

  ‘The little shit.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m alright.’

  ‘You don’t sound it … I know you, Ellie, putting a brave face on things. Well, if I can’t come up and kick his backside, can I come up and see you, then? Cheer you up? It’s about time I saw where you are, and the teashop and everything.’

  ‘I suppose. Okay.’

  ‘Don’t sound so bloody keen.’

  And then they both laughed.

  ‘It’s just I have to work. And my head’s a mess.’

  ‘Me too, and my head’s always a mess, but I’ll get the afternoon off. Spin some yarn. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? I need to try out some of this choffee cake you keep going on about. And see for myself what kind of back-of-beyond place you’re living in, too.’

  ‘Okay, then. Tomorrow, that’ll be good. Thanks, Gemma.’

  ‘We can crash out, after you finish tearoom-ing, with a DVD and a bottle or two of rosé. Be like old times.’

  Ellie realised how much she missed their easy friendship. Having someone to share her hopes and fears with.

  *

  ‘So this is it, then?’ Gemma charged through the swing door, ‘Hi, hun. You okay?’, and grasped her friend in a bear hug.

  ‘Ah-huh.’ Ellie was so pleased to see her friend’s smiling face, share a hug.

  ‘The tearooms look okay out there. Bit old-fashioned and chintzy, but I suppose that’s the idea around here. The food looks pretty good, mind.’ And with that she picked up a cookie from a tray Ellie had just taken out of the oven and took a big bite.

  ‘Hey … hands off, you!’ But Ellie was laughing.

  ‘God, I miss you in the office, and on the doughnut run. No one can be bothered to go now. It’s dire, I’m withering away.’

  ‘Ooh yes, and how is life at North East Mutual?’

  ‘Much the same. Except they never replaced you, did they? So we all have to work even harder. Long hours, low pay … you know the score.’

  ‘Pretty much the same here …’ Ellie smiled wryly, then paused. ‘But I love it,’ she added earnestly.

  ‘Except for the bloody management,’ Gemma chipped in.

  ‘Well, the less said about that the better.’ Damn, Ellie could feel prickles of tears coming behind her eyes.

  Gemma got all ballsy on her behalf. ‘Well, if he can drop you like that, he’s not worth it. The tosser.’ And with that she took another big bite of the cookie.

  ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea, then, and when I get five minutes, I’ll show you up to my room and you can make yourself at home.’

  ‘Tea? I’ve something much better than that in my rucksack.’ With that she pulled out a bottle of vodka.

  ‘Jeez, Gemma. Not now. I’ve still a couple of hours to go here.’ Mind you, she might be glad of a shot or two later.

  ‘I’ve brought some Diet Coke for it too.’ Gemma was beaming wickedly.

  ‘Later, okay?’

  ‘Look forward to it. Suppose tea’ll have to do then, thanks.’

  They were going to be in for a boozy night, by the sounds of it. Oh well, it might do her good. Take her mind off things.

  Doris and Nicola were introduced to Gemma as they popped into the kitchen.

  ‘Nice hairdo,’ Gemma chuckled as Doris headed back out with a fresh plate of the cookies. Doris had just had it cut and it did have a rather bowl-like effect.

  ‘Shush,’ Ellie pleaded, but ended up in a fit of the giggles.

  Ellie had packed up the teashop for the night and could hear the music pounding from her room as she mounted her stairwell – some indie band Gemma was into. Oh shit, that’d disturb Joe above her. Oh well, serve him right. Hopefully the noise wouldn’t reach as far across as Lord Henry’s rooms.

  She opened her door to find Gemma dancing in the space by the bed, glass of rosé in hand.

  On the bed was laid out a DVD of Dirty Dancing, a half-empty litre of rosé, a bottle of vodka and some cans of Diet Coke, plus a family-sized pack of toffee popcorn and a huge bar of Dairy Milk.

  ‘Remedies for sore hearts. Tosser-resistant.’ Gemma reached for the other glass, picked up the bottle of rosé, and poured. ‘Cheers, me dears. To us.’

  ‘To good friends.’ Ellie was feeling emotional already. Must be her unsettled mood.

  ‘And sod all the miserable bastards who don’t know a good thing when they see it.’

  ‘Yes, sod the bastards.’ Ellie raised her glass towards the roof meaningfully.

  DVD on, they were soon engrossed in the film, sipping vodka and Coke and munching popcorn. Then, they were singing along as the credits rolled and Ellie found herself in tears. Even gorgeous Patrick Swayze was dead. It was all too much. Bloody Joe. Bloody cancer. Bloody men. It must be all the alcohol breaking down her defences.

  They were both on Ellie’s bed. Gemma turned to her. ‘It’s alright, hun. Let it all out.’ And they lay in a hug on the double duvet. Tipsy and tearful.

  ‘I love you, Ellie. Don’t you worry about him.’

  ‘Love you too, Gems. Thanks for coming to cheer me up.’ The tears were still dripping down her cheeks.

  ‘Did a bloody good job, didn’t I?’ And they laughed and cried together.

  They finished another glass of vodka and Coke and drifted into an unexpectedly sound sleep.

  *

  The alarm buzzed offensively.

  ‘What the hell’s that?’ Gemma groaned, shoving her head back under a pillow. ‘What the hell time is it, anyhow?’

  ‘Seven. Got to get up. Make scones.’ Ellie fumbled a hand to the bedside table, trying to locate and stop the damn thing. Her head was being hammered from the inside.

  ‘UGHH!’

  Ellie managed to stop the buzzing. ‘I’ll be back soon. Or if you like, pop down for some breakfast.’

  ‘Bleugh!’ was the response from under the pillow, which pretty much matched her own. On autopilot, she dressed in yesterday’s clothes and made her way down to the kitchen. Somehow she managed to make two batches of scones and a quiche, sipped half a cup of tea, which sunk heavily in her stomach, making her feel even more queasy, and got back to find that Gemma hadn’t moved. Ellie lay down on the bed beside her, this time on top of the duvet, until she really had to get up and get to work in the teashop, cutting it more than fine, finding Doris already bustling about. She tried her best to act normally but could only creep about at snail pace.

  Five minutes later, Doris set down a glass of water and two paracetamol on the worktop next to her. ‘You might need these,’ was all she said.

  Ellie mouthed a ‘Thanks’.

  Gemma turned up an hour and a half later, her face pale, eyes bloodshot, ‘I think I’d better head back down
the road. I’m meant to be back in the office this afternoon.’

  ‘Take it steady, then. Are you sure you’ll be okay? Here, have a big glass of water before you go.’

  ‘Cheers,’ it was said in a very different tone than last night. Gemma glugged back the water.

  ‘It was a good night, though. Thanks for coming up.’ Ellie managed a smile.

  ‘You’re going to be alright, Ellie.’

  ‘I know. Thanks.’ Her words sounded more sure than she felt.

  Ellie kept her head down, got on with work, and tried her best to be as professional as she could when inevitably she and Joe met, either by chance, or when they had to discuss some work project. They had taken the event planning for the weddings a stage further; Joe was to place adverts in Brides magazine and set up a small stand at a couple of wedding fayres in Edinburgh and Newcastle. The accommodation wouldn’t be ready till next year, at least, but they could book out the hall and catering, and flowers – care of Wendy. Conversations were cool but polite and business-like.

  The teashop was busy most days now, thank heavens, which was good: for business, the bank account, and for keeping her mind occupied. Well, most of the time. Her mind still had its moments and strayed right back into his arms and his bed every now and then, but she kept it in check as best she could. But her room seemed awfully lonely at nights, and her heart felt pared down, as if she’d given away too much.

  *

  There was a fiftieth birthday party event coming up, the husband had come in and booked it a while back. Ellie needed to coordinate flowers – he’d mentioned roses as his wife’s favourite, and there was the buffet menu to plan. The husband had asked to hire the great hall as it featured in a film version of Robin Hood that his wife had always loved, apparently. How thoughtful of him. Ellie wondered how long they’d been married. Maybe all men weren’t bad, after all. It was just the small matter of finding the right one. A needle in a haystack came to mind. And Ellie had met too many pricks to bother to keep looking.