11 The Teashop on the Corner (30 page)

Carla fed the cat who was fussing around her as if he had been ignored for days, then she sat with a coffee that she had no intention of drinking whilst weighing up her options. The thought of
going back to the bank made her heart feel as heavy as a concrete brick. She wanted to work with flowers again so much. Was running her own florist shop that distant a dream? Damn Will Linton, she
thought as she threw her purse and a notepad into her handbag.

She drove up to Spring Hill extra carefully because her whole body felt shaky. She arrived at the square just before ten-thirty so she called in to see Leni at the Teashop on the Corner. Leni
was taking an order from an elderly couple, so Carla peeked in the cabinets. There were some paperclips in the shape of the Brontë sisters’ profiles now, joining those of Jane Austen.
Not that any of them particularly looked like whom they were supposed to, but they were a lovely novelty and the tin they came in was very covetable. There were some earrings in the shape of small
inkpens, a table runner with the quote ‘If music be the food of love, play on’ embroidered on it and the most adorable purse resembling an airmail letter, complete with stitched address
on the front. This shop was dangerous to a bank balance, thought Carla, tearing herself away and to the table. She ordered a small coffee but nothing to eat. She felt sick with nerves.

As she waited for her drink to arrive she stared through the window at the small shop unit nearby and imagined it being hers. She envisaged pulling up in a van and offloading all the flowers she
had picked at the wholesalers that morning. She saw herself answering the phone:
Hello, Carla’s Flowers. No . . . that wasn’t right. Martelli Flowers? Hello, Black Cat Flowers.
Nope. Hello . . .

‘Hello?’ Leni’s voice broke into her reverie. ‘Earth calling Carla.’

‘Sorry, Leni. Thank you.’ She wondered if she should tell Leni about the shop unit and get her opinion on it. After all, she was a woman who worked for herself.

She opened her mouth, but shut it again fast. What if Leni laughed in her face at the idea of her opening up a business in the same square? Then again, Leni seemed too nice to do that, even if
she did think Carla was daft to even think it.

‘I’m here to view that unit over there,’ Carla blurted out with a sudden burst of bravery.

Leni didn’t laugh with derision at all. ‘Which one? The little one? Oh, how exciting for you. What sort of shop would it be?’

‘Yes, the little one. I’m thinking about starting a florists. I’ve worked in floristry for fifteen years, although I’ve never had my own shop.’

‘Then it’s about time you did,’ smiled Leni. ‘If you don’t know what you are doing after fifteen years, then there’s something wrong.’

‘Do you think I could?’ asked Carla, which was a ridiculous question, she told herself as soon as the words had left her mouth. How would Leni know the answer to that? ‘Sorry,
that was a daft thing to say.’

‘I think you need a slice of my coffee and rum cake this morning. It’s filled with confidence-giving drugs.’

‘It’s true – I have no confidence,’ confessed Carla. ‘I came from a very traditional family, where the men were the breadwinners and the women were destined for
domestic duties.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Leni held her hand up to stop Carla saying any more. ‘Then you met a man for whom that set-up was ideal. And any secret ambitions you might have had got
buried under your obligations.’

‘Am I that obvious?’

‘You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.’

‘You sound as if you’re talking from experience,’ Carla said, taking a long sip of coffee.

‘I eventually realised that there had been enough people in my life trying to hold me back without myself being one of them.’

‘You’re divorced, I take it?’ Carla smiled.

‘Oh yes.’ Leni looked happy about it too. ‘I work best under my own steam.’

‘I don’t know if I’m able.’

‘There’s only one way to go when you hit rock bottom,’ said Leni, making the point of looking through the window across at the shop. ‘And that’s upwards.’

‘Should I go for it?’

But even if Leni didn’t know the answer, she was no less than encouraging. ‘Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, Carla. You know your craft; Mr McCarthy doesn’t charge
stupid rents. It all boils down to whether you can afford to buy the stock, and can you drum up enough business to sell it.’

‘I think I can,’ said Carla.

‘You know you can,’ Leni corrected her.

‘Yes, I know I can,’ Carla said, feeling a swirl of excitement inside her. She had to go up and forwards. The road backwards led to data entry jobs in banks, and the likelihood of
having to sell Dundealin and rent somewhere and say goodbye to Will.
Blimey
. She hadn’t realised until then how awful that would be. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable having
him so embedded in her plans for a happy life.

‘Do you mind if I ask – have you had your own business for a long time, Leni?’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ she replied. ‘I was the manager of a bookshop for many years. The owners installed a café in it and it was terrible. I thought I could do
better, but doing it is very far away from planning it. It wasn’t a well-paid job and I was divorced and my ex-husband didn’t pay any maintenance so, to find some extra cash, I started,
in my spare time, importing novelty stationery to sell on the internet. Annie was only young then but she used to help me pack it up and just to amuse ourselves really, we’d plan having a
shop where everything for sale was book-related and in the middle would be a small teashop with lovely cakes and proper sandwiches.

‘Then I began to find that I was earning more money and getting far more satisfaction out of doing my part-time job at home than I was in my full-time job during the day. So I decided to
hand in my notice and go for it. I’ll be honest,’ she laughed, ‘it took me a while to build up to take the leap. I was terrified that all my orders would dry up and I’d have
to sell my house and that Annie and I would end up out on the street. But, I was determined to make it work. I wanted to make sure that Annie didn’t have to take out any student loan when she
went off to university. But, with her gone . . . travelling, I found I was quite lonely. Then I saw this place advertised. It was too far away from where I lived in North Yorkshire, so I sold up,
moved here and took out the lease and I opened up the little teashop that Annie and I had planned.’

Carla’s anxiety levels were spiking. What was she even doing here? Leni was competent and brave, Carla was a total wet lettuce.

Through the window, Carla saw a man approach the small shop unit and stand there, taking a look at his watch. He was early but it had to be Shaun McCarthy. She took out her purse.

‘This one’s on me,’ said Leni, pushing the five-pound note away. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thank you, Leni. Bless you.’

Carla walked out of the shop and across the square with legs shakier than those of a new-born giraffe.

Molly drove to Spring Hill. It was the only place she could think of to go. She needed to be somewhere that felt as comforting as an old cardigan because she was chilled to the
bone as she slipped the car into gear and set off. She walked in to the Teashop on the Corner, her body scrunched up as if she were in pain, and she was.

Leni glanced up and smiled. She held on to that smile even though the usually cheerful Molly looked pale and shivery.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Leni, adding tentatively, ‘Harvey not with you?’

‘No. Not this morning,’ said Molly with an over-casual tinkly laugh. ‘I fancied some time to myself. Morning Ryan. And how are you today? Busy?’

‘I’m all right, ta,’ he called, going into the back room with a pair of scissors he had just collected.

‘He’s parcel-wrapping today,’ explained Leni. ‘Now, what can I get for you?’

‘A nice pot of tea, nothing to eat, thank you.’

Leni prepared a tray. She arranged some freshly made shortbreads on a plate as well. Glancing over at Molly, she knew that all was not well. Molly had something on her mind, the weight of it was
almost visible on her shoulders, pushing them down.

‘There you go,’ said Leni.

‘Thank you, dear.’ Oh how Molly wished Margaret were here to talk to. Then again, maybe not. She could hardly expect Margaret to give her an unbiased view. And Molly was more than
partly to blame for that.

‘Leni,’ Molly’s fingers curled around Leni’s as she put down the plate of biscuits. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you for what, Molly?’ Molly obviously was thanking her for more than the tea.

‘Thank you for setting up this wonderful little teashop. It’s one of my favourite places to be.’

‘That’s a lovely thing to say,’ beamed Leni. She could see that Molly was close to tears. ‘Shall I get a cup of tea and join you? I could do with a break. We’ve had
a bit of a rush on this morning for once.’

‘Yes please.’ It had been a long time since Molly had been in more need of some warm and gentle female company.

Shaun McCarthy held his hand out.

‘Miss Martelli?’

‘Yes, that’s me,’ she said with a nervous chirp.

‘Come on inside, why don’t you?’

He had a lovely lilting soft accent, thought Carla, like Liam Neeson. Although she preferred Will’s voice, which was quite gritty and deep and always seemed to have a laugh hiding in it
ready to spring out.

Carla walked into the shop unit. An architect’s cock-up, Will had said. Dundealin was an architect’s cock-up as well. Was it a sign? Or was she merely a magnet for architects’
cock-ups? It was small, a quarter of the size of Marlene’s Bloomers. The front part of the unit was big enough for the purpose of a florist. The back part was larger than she expected, with a
sink at one side of the back door and a loo at the other. Yes, this would do very well indeed for a florist shop.
Her own florist shop.
A swell of giddiness rose up in her. She beat down
all the doubts that threatened to spoil her vision of her own business with an inner war-cry of
Yes I can do this. Yes I can make this work.

‘I had got it ready for a woman who wanted to open it as a cupcake shop. Then she realised that there was a teashop in the same square and changed her mind. I had checked with Ms Merryman
first to make sure there was no conflict of interests and there wasn’t but . . .’ He huffed with annoyance. ‘So, there you have the story on that one. I can let you have it for a
good price, I’m not greedy. I just want to get the units filled.’ Then he told her what he expected for the rent and it was less than she had imagined.

Yes, yes yes.
She wanted to bite his hand off, but she supposed she should act against nature and play it slightly cool. She forced a sigh out of her lungs and formed her features into
a contemplative arrangement.

‘Hmm,’ she said, crossing her arms. ‘The unit is a little smaller than I imagined.’

Shaun blew the air out of his cheeks. If he heard that line one more time, he would scream.

‘Six weeks rent free, no bond,’ he offered.

‘Done.’ Carla couldn’t hold back any longer. She was so rubbish at bartering.

‘You worked me a bit there, didn’t you?’ Shaun’s blue-green eyes were narrowed, but there was a twinkle playing in them.

‘Hard-headed businesswomen do that,’ smiled Carla as a thousand champagne bottles popped their corks inside her.

‘I don’t suppose you want any signage?’ Shaun asked, picking up a long wooden plinth and turning it over to reveal what the cupcake shop should have been.

Carla stared open-mouthed at the words
FRENCH FANCY.
If that wasn’t an omen, what was?

Leni poured herself a cup and checked to make sure that Ryan was doing all right in the back room. He was fine but still quiet, as if he had things on his mind. She could feel
the tension in the air.

Leni took her tea over to the table to find Molly dabbing at her eyes with a linen handkerchief. She was laughing with nervous embarrassment and apologising.

‘Molly, what’s wrong, my love?’ Leni’s gently concerned voice was like a key to the door that held back a mother-lode of the older woman’s hidden feelings. The
years hadn’t hushed or weakened them. They wouldn’t be held back any more.

‘I’m so sorry. Here I am again, making a fool of myself,’ Molly tried to smile away her emotion. ‘I don’t know, I haven’t cried for years and suddenly I
can’t seem to stop.’

Then Carla burst into the shop brimming with news about what she had just agreed with Shaun. When she saw that Molly was upset her euphoria was pushed right down.

‘Hello, Carla dear,’ said Molly, her lovely dark blue eyes swimming with tears.

‘Molly. What’s wrong?’ She looked to Leni for guidance. ‘It’s not Harvey, is it?’

‘Molly, you’re among friends,’ said Leni, taking one of Molly’s hands and placing it between both of hers. It felt tiny and chilled and full of delicate bones. ‘Why
don’t you start with why you’re here today? What you needed to get away from.’

Molly nodded slowly.

*

Harvey slid his finger into the flap of the first envelope and ripped it along the edge. It contained one sheet of lined white paper. The letters were wild loops of anger,
written quickly and from a crushed heart.

The ink had bloomed in places and he knew that tears had been falling from her eyes when she wrote this. He could see the small scratches where her pen had ground letters into
the paper, he could feel the pain in every character formed. He had hated her too when he left. Hated her for driving him to the warm waiting arms of another woman when it was only Molly that he
wanted.