11 The Teashop on the Corner (40 page)

Molly sat down at his side. Harvey took up her hand.

‘You are the most perfect woman I ever met. You have a heart as big as a planet.’

‘Stop it,’ said Molly, giving him a good-humoured slap with the hand he wasn’t holding.

‘You were quite formidable today too. You could have given Muhammad Ali in his heyday a run for his money.’

Molly grinned. ‘Do you know, I think I could have.’

‘Did you really love me, Molly?’

She gazed deep into his intense blue eyes and saw again the fit, strapping man she had fallen head over heels with at first sight.

‘More than you ever knew,’ she replied with a soft smile. ‘More than I ever knew.’

‘I want you to pack as much life into your years as you can, Molly. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’ His fingers smoothed over her hand. He used to love holding it
whilst they were walking down the street. He was so proud that someone like him could have landed such a prize as lovely Molly Jones.

‘I feel as if we’ve packed years into this past month,’ said Molly, savouring the sensation of his large warm fingers around her own. She used to love holding his hand whenever
they walked anywhere. She felt as if she truly belonged to him then, in the nicest possible way. ‘And I’ve loved every second of it.’

‘I love you,’ Harvey said. Then his face contorted with terrible pain and Molly screamed in fright.

*

Leni felt a flash of panic as she opened up the door to Anne’s room. It was
Anne’s room
, but she had to put Ryan in here. She hadn’t thought forward
when she had suggested he sleep here. It was wrong. This was Anne’s room, full of her things.

‘This your daughter’s room?’ asked Ryan.

‘Yes,’ said Leni, her voice constricted with sudden alarm.

‘You okay?’

A quiet voice inside Leni told her to get a grip. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about all the frills and the pink.’

‘I won’t touch any of her stuff, you know,’ said Ryan, as if he was afraid she might be silently warning him.

‘I’d appreciate that,’ said Leni. ‘But I’ll clear out a drawer and some space for you to use. You settle in and I’ll get you a towel and a
toothbrush.’

‘Am I going to school tomorrow?’

‘I think I could see to it that you had tomorrow off,’ replied Leni wondering what she was going to say to the school to make that possible. Should she ring up and pretend to be his
sister? She didn’t want to alert any authorities that might swoop in and take the boy away to strange foster parents. For now he would be safe with her and Mr Bingley. In Anne’s
room.

Margaret and Bernard came straight over as soon as Molly telephoned them.

‘Have you rung for an ambulance?’ Margaret asked as soon as she saw Harvey’s face. He seemed to have aged twenty years in the hours since she had seen him last.

‘No. No ambulances,’ cried Harvey. ‘I won’t go to hospital. I’m staying here.’

Molly’s eyes were imploring her sister to make him see reason, but instead Margaret turned to Harvey whilst she rolled up her sleeves.

‘Then you’ve got me as a nurse,’ she said. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Harvey’s face broke into a smile. ‘Molly, can I have some water please?’

‘Yes, of course.’

As soon as she had left the room, Harvey held out his hand towards Margaret. She took hold of it and sat down on the bed.

‘Margaret. We both know there’s no use in ringing for an ambulance because someone is here for me, aren’t they? I need to know. Who is it?’

Margaret looked at Bernard who was standing in the doorway.

‘Please, Margaret. It would be such a comfort.’ Harvey’s hand squeezed hers.

‘It’s a woman,’ blurted Margaret, nodding towards the chair in the corner. ‘She’s sitting very straight. She’s elderly, white hair in a tight bun. She’s
got a grey cat on her knee.’

Serenity spread across Harvey’s features. ‘How many legs has the cat got?’

‘Four,’ replied Margaret.

‘How many ears?’

‘Two.’

‘How many eyes?’

‘Two. But there’s something wrong with the left one. It looks disfigured.’

‘You passed the trick questions,’ Harvey said with a tired chuckle. ‘It’s my Nana and Mouser, although I don’t think he ever caught a mouse in his life, too bloody
spoilt. Nana died when I was five, but I have always remembered her. I was the apple of her eye. It will be so good to see her again.’

Margaret tried to stay strong but tears were sliding down her face. God, she hated having this ability. Now more than she ever did.

‘Molly, hurry up, my love,’ she called out to her sister.

‘I’m here, I’m here.’ Molly appeared in the doorway with a tumbler full of water.

‘He’s fading, Molly,’ said Bernard.

Margaret moved away so that Molly could sit at Harvey’s side and took the tumbler of water from her. She knew Harvey hadn’t wanted it.

Molly took both of his hands in hers.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she sobbed.

‘Ah my beautiful girl,’ said Harvey. ‘You have to promise me that you’ll have adventures.’

‘I will,’ she said, tears pouring down her face. ‘I promise.’

‘Time to say goodbye, my lovely.’ His voice had dropped to a sound barely more audible than a breath, the smile on his lips was closing down before her eyes. She felt his fingers
tighten around hers, then they relaxed. Molly held them against her lips kissing them madly, trying to imbue them with life; but Margaret could no longer see the old lady and the grey cat with the
funny-shaped eye. That meant Harvey had gone too. He had whispered away from them to another adventure.

Leni ironed the last of Ryan’s shirts. She couldn’t get them white, even on a boil wash. She stitched missing buttons on his trousers and his blazer but he needed a
totally new uniform. Thank goodness it was almost the end of the summer term. She wondered if he would be with her when the new school year started in September or if his family would claim him
back after calming down.

She knew she would be in real trouble with the school if they found out she had lied when she’d rung that morning and said that she was Ryan’s brother’s girlfriend and that
their telephone number had changed. The woman on the end of the phone hadn’t seemed to suspect anything though and merely thanked her for letting them know. Leni knew she hadn’t really
thought this thing through, but what else could she do?

Ryan must have got up to go to the toilet during the night and left his door ajar because Mr Bingley had sneaked in and was asleep on his bed, curled up behind Ryan’s legs. The boy was
dead to the world. Mr Bingley used to curl up behind Anne’s legs just the same. Leni quietly opened the wardrobe and hung the ironed clothes inside, then turned to look a second time at the
sleeping shape beneath the quilt and tried to imagine it was Anne, home with her again. Leni closed the door gently and went back downstairs.

Carla was a mess of excitement and nerves as she loaded up her car on Monday morning. Will came into the kitchen as she was lifting the last box that would fit in her boot.

‘Oh God, I didn’t wake you, did I?’ she said, horrified, because she knew he wasn’t working today.

‘What? This is a lie-in for me,’ he replied. ‘I’m used to early mornings. Here, let me,’ and he insisted she hand over the box. Martin wouldn’t have done
that. He wasn’t what she would have called ‘a gentleman’. She was beginning to wonder what Julie Pride had seen in him when they’d met up again. Maybe if he hadn’t won
the lottery the relationship really would have fizzled out after the initial flare up of old passions after all.

‘I could come and help you, if you like,’ said Will as he shut the boot. ‘I haven’t got anything else to do today.’

‘Oh don’t be silly,’ smiled Carla. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate the offer.’

‘Well that’s settled then,’ said Will. ‘I’ll follow you up in the van and bring the rest of the boxes.’

‘You don’t take no for an answer very well, do you?’ she grinned.

He didn’t say anything, just winked at her and Carla hurried into her car before he saw her blush.

When she got to Spring Hill, she intended to get a couple of toasties and some coffee from the Teashop on the Corner, but was surprised to see that it wasn’t open, which was odd. She hoped
everything was all right with Leni.

Carla unpacked the box with the new kettle, the coffee and the cups in it first and was about to pour out when Will arrived with the last two boxes and the sweeping brush.

‘It’s taking shape isn’t it?’ said Will, looking at the vases ready waiting for the flowers.

‘Yep,’ grinned Carla. ‘I’m getting my phone line put in this morning and the credit card machine installed this afternoon.’

‘You just tell me what sort of counter you need and I’ll make it,’ said Will, taking a retractable tape measure out of his jacket pocket. ‘Won’t take me that long.
It’ll be a bit more professional looking than this table.’ Carla had bought a cheap table to set her on for the time being. It would do the job but the thought of a proper purpose-built
counter was making her quite giddy.

‘I’ve got some dimensions together.’ Carla reached for her notepad. ‘Do you need money for materials up front?’

‘Naw, it’s okay,’ said Will with a slow grin. ‘I know where you live.’

‘Thank you,’ said Carla, almost breathless with excitement. ‘I can’t believe after all these years I am actually going to have my own shop.’

‘What about the sign over the door?’

‘That’s coming first thing Wednesday morning, apparently,’ replied Carla. ‘And I’ve decided to have a uniform. Black dress and a white apron. Sort of
French-maidy.’

Will puffed out his cheeks. ‘That sounds great.’

‘Oh God.’ Carla was thrown into panic by his reaction. ‘I didn’t mean in a pervy way. It’s classy. It’s got a black cat on the bib thing.’

Will let loose a booming laugh and Carla’s joined it.

He didn’t admit to Carla that the idea of her in a French Maid outfit was the reason why he suddenly had to go out to his van and take a few moments.

‘Everything is happening so fast,’ she said when he came back in.

‘Yep, and there was you trying to convince us all that you wouldn’t be able to run your own place.’

Will seemed to be as thrilled for her as she was, thought Carla, looking at his cheery face.

‘Will you be able to manage it all by yourself?’ he asked her.

‘I might need a part-time assistant. I’ll see how it goes,’ said Carla. ‘If I need help that means I’ve got good business coming in and can afford it.’

A bucket of self-doubt splashed in her face.
Oh God, I hope I’m doing the right thing
, she thought to herself. Where would she go and what would she do if it all died a death
overnight?

It won’t,
said another voice. A stronger voice.
You’re going to be just fine.

*

Ryan eventually woke at eleven a.m. He might have slept longer had Mr Bingley not decided to snuggle up to his face and his whiskers tickled him awake. He came downstairs
yawning, with mussed-up hair and pyjamas that had seen much better days and walked into a kitchen that was rich with the scent of cakes baking.

‘That was a mint sleep,’ he announced to Leni, who was washing up her giant mixing bowl.

‘Glad to hear it. Now, would you like some breakfast?’ she asked. ‘Or are you going to skip straight to lunch?’ She made a pointed look at the clock.

‘Breakfast would be nice, thank you,’ grinned Ryan.

‘Bacon, eggs, sausage? Beans on toast? Omelette? Cereal?’

Ryan’s eyes rounded. ‘A bacon sarnie?’ he half-asked, unsure that Leni wasn’t joking.

‘Crispy or not crispy? Teacake, toast or bread?’

‘Er . . . crispy, and . . . teacake, please.’

‘Coming up. Help yourself to orange juice in there.’

Ryan walked tentatively over to the fridge which Leni had just pointed to.

‘Go on, there’s nothing in there to bite you. Glasses in the cupboard to the right,’ she called.

He poured himself a full half-pint of orange juice. ‘I like this stuff with bits in. Tastes more real,’ he said, lifting the glass to his lips and sipping. From the look on his face,
he could have been drinking Cristal champagne.

He wolfed down the bacon sarnie as if he hadn’t eaten for a fortnight, then dabbed at the crumbs on his plate with a dampened finger.

‘I’ve washed your clothes and put them in the wardrobe,’ Leni said, taking the plate from him and dropping it in the sink.

‘God, it’s like a hotel,’ said Ryan. ‘A nice posh one. Can I go and watch some telly please?’

‘You go and fill your boots,’ said Leni. ‘School tomorrow, though.’

But not even the ‘s’ word could dampen Ryan’s spirits. He and Mr Bingley watched TV whilst Leni worked on her laptop until it was time for tea. He couldn’t remember
having a day when he’d been as warm and fed and content as this ever.

By four o’clock Carla had a working phone line and a credit card machine installed. She had experienced so many tremors of excitement that her bones had almost forgotten
how to stop shaking. She wondered if Harvey would honour his promise to be her first customer after all. She allowed herself a moment’s reverie where she was taking his credit card and he was
typing in his pin number so that he could purchase a huge bouquet for Molly. It was all too weird.

Two months ago she had been Mrs Carla Pride – or so she thought – wife of a not too successful salesman with an okay-ish life, although now she realised that she had settled for much
less than she should have. She had been content with the crumbs of affection that her ‘over-worked’ spouse sprinkled from his table, but she had loved him and supported him hoping that
the powers that be at work would eventually recognise his devotion to the company and give him the big fat pay rise he deserved.

Now she was two stone lighter, outright owner of a strange little house that once belonged to a diamond smuggler, standing in her own florist shop and landlady to possibly the nicest man on
earth.