Needles and Pearls (34 page)

‘They might not have noticed.’

‘Go and find your shoes, love.’

I can still smell the smoke. I think I’ll have a bath and wash my hair.

Reg is putting his coat on.

‘Come on, boys, we might have time to get sweets if we hurry.’

There’s a rush for the front door.

I’m in the bath, trying to pretend everything’s normal. But it’s not. I really don’t know if I can do this. I’m too tired. The baby moves and I start to cry, quietly. It’s absolutely bloody typical. As soon as I start to think I’ve got things sorted, bingo, another crisis comes along to tip everything upside down. Maybe I should think about this. I want to carry on, but this might be one of those moments when you’re meant to make a new start. Except where would I go? We like it here, we all do. And the shop’s just starting to work, with the website and the groups and everything.

Christ, I hope the insurance people don’t try to wriggle out of paying, because there’s no way I can afford a new roof. And I’ll have to make sure the boys aren’t worried; Jack will be imagining a small pile of charred embers. I’ll have to take them round and show them as soon as it’s safe. Archie will love it.

‘Are you nearly done, pet? Only Reg is back and he wants to talk to you. He’s working out a cleaning rota.’

‘I’ll be there in a minute, Gran.’

‘Are you sure you’re all right? You sound funny.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You should go back to bed, you know, pet, have a rest – I don’t want you doing too much.’

‘Don’t fuss, Gran, I’m fine.’

‘Shall I do you another bacon sandwich?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘I could do you a crispy one, with an egg?’

Actually, that might be quite nice.

‘Yes, please. I’ll be down in a minute.’

‘I’ll put the pan on.’

‘Thanks, Gran.’

A crispy bacon sandwich with a fried egg. It’s a start, I suppose.

It’s Tuesday morning, and I’m walking to the shop with Connie after dropping the kids off at school.

‘I’ve had an idea, Con, and I want to talk to you about it, but I want you to be honest, OK? Tell me what you really think.’

Actually, I’ve been up half the night thinking about it, so I’m really hoping she’s going to like it.

‘Sure.’

‘You know Mrs Davis says she’s selling her shop next door to us?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, if I can sort out the money, I thought maybe I should try to buy it.’

‘Then you will have a much bigger shop, yes?’

‘Yes, but not just for the wool. I was thinking, the knitting groups have worked so well, and Elsie’s always making people cups of tea, so I thought maybe we could have a tea shop too.’

‘Like a café?’

‘Yes, something simple, doing teas and coffees and toasted sandwiches, nothing like a restaurant. A cross
between Starbucks and an old-fashioned tea shop, that kind of thing. A place for people to meet, of all ages, Olivia and Gemma and Polly too, as well as all our old ladies.’

‘Brava.
There’s no real café here, not open all year, and the coffee from the fish and chip shop is awful. People will love it, I think.’

‘The only thing is I don’t know anything about catering, so would you and Mark be interested in helping me?’

‘We’d love to, but we don’t have money, although maybe –’

‘No, the money should be fine – I think I can sort out a business loan. The shop’s all mine so I should be able to raise something against that, at least I hope so, no, I meant you could be my café advisors, then you could decide what kind of coffee machine we need, and all that kind of thing, and take a percentage of the profits, if we make any. What do you think?’

She kisses me.

‘Mark can make all the patisserie?’

‘Exactly.’

‘He will love it; he wants to take on another chef for the kitchen so he has more time for the cakes. It’s what he loves most now, and he’s got so many ideas, but there’s never enough time.’

‘Great.’

‘It’ll be perfect for the birthday cakes; people come to see them in the pub but it’s too busy, and I can’t take anyone into the kitchen because Mark says it is against hygiene.’

I was really hoping she’d see the potential: me selling a few cakes isn’t really going to be much of a benefit to the pub, but if we use the café as their base on the High Street for Mark’s wedding and birthday cakes then it’ll make much more sense. And it won’t need much space; one of
those glass-fronted fridges and a few cake boxes should be all we’ll need.

‘Can I tell him now?’

‘Of course.’

She’s babbling on her mobile when we get to the shop to find Gran and Reg are already there.

Gran’s got her pinny on.

‘What did she think?’

‘She loves the idea.’

I called Gran first thing this morning, and she’s really excited. I wanted her to sound out Mrs Davis to make sure she really wants to sell up; I thought she’d talk to her at some point over the next couple of days, but instead she rang her straight away, and then rang me back to say she was really pleased.

‘We’ve got all the windows open upstairs.’

‘Great.’

We’re launching Operation Clean-up today since the combined efforts of Reg and Jeffrey have got the insurance assessor round in record time and he’s said we can write off most of the stock. It looks like they won’t be haggling over the claim for the roof either, so Reg has sorted out the electrics with his friend Malcolm, who used to work for the electricity board, and we’ve got two big dehumidifiers going upstairs and one downstairs. It’s amazing how often the plastic containers have to be emptied of thick black water, but it’s definitely starting to feel less damp now.

The plan is to clean up as speedily as we can and open again next week, and then close again after Christmas, and the baby, and get the re-plastering done; the ceilings are all stained and mottled and the plaster is cracking, and the roof needs a complete overhaul, but I think we can manage until then.

Everyone’s been so kind, offering to help and coming over in the playground at school to ask how it’s going; apart from Annabel Morgan, of course, who was looked faintly pleased until she heard me say that we’ll be opening up again as soon as we can. I wish I could see her face when she hears Grace has agreed to come and cut the ribbon at the grand reopening ceremony when everything’s properly finished. Which reminds me, I must ring Max and ask her what we should get for Lily’s birthday. Last time I spoke to her she was balancing her laptop on her knees on location somewhere, trying to track down snow machines and let everyone know the party’s been moved to the last week of December because the filming is running late, and Grace doesn’t want to do it in January because she’ll be in America. So it didn’t seem a good time to ask her about birthday presents.

Martin and Jeffrey are busy tacking up plastic sheeting under the holes in the roof, and the rest of us are washing down walls and pouring filthy water down the drain outside the shop. It’s already starting to smell fresher, and I’m trying to salvage the balls of wool that were still in their plastic packets, or tucked in the back of shelves, and chucking anything damp into black bin bags. It’s rubbish day tomorrow so I want to get rid of as much as I can, although I’m putting the more expensive yarns to one side because I can’t quite bear to throw them out: it’ll be a lot of washing and rewinding, but I’m sure I can salvage some of it, even if it’s only for me to knit up at home.

I’m completely knackered by lunchtime. My sleeves are soaking wet from washing down shelves, and I’m grimy and cold, although somehow Gran’s still managing to look fairly pristine. But even she’s starting to look tired, so I
should probably be organising some sandwiches or something.

‘Does anyone fancy a cup of tea?’

Elsie’s brought the kettle downstairs and we’re making tea when Maggie arrives from the library, offering to help during her lunch hour, and then Cath comes in with homemade pea-and-ham soup, followed by Tina and Mrs Davis with rolls and pasties.

‘Linda will be in later; she’s finishing off a perm but she said she’ll be along and she’s happy to help, and you can put stuff in our machine in the salon if you want, and we’ve got the tumble dryer too, so you can use that as well.’

‘Thanks, Tina. I’ve taken the curtains home, but there are a couple of cushions upstairs, if you’re sure.’

‘I’ll take them back with me.’

Jeffrey finishes his pasty.

‘Lovely pastry. Who made them?’

Mrs Davis smiles.

‘My boys have always liked my pasties.’

Elsie sniffs.

We’re eating and chatting when Betty arrives with rock cakes and Angela arrives with home-made mince pies, and it turns into a rather jolly party, albeit with a rather grubby backdrop.

Everyone’s very keen on the café idea, especially Betty.

‘There used to be an ice-cream parlour along the front, and it was ever so nice.’

Ice cream. Brilliant.

‘That’s a great idea, Betty. If we’ve got a fridge for the cakes we could do ice cream too, couldn’t we, Con?’

She smiles.

‘We can do sorbets too; Mark makes an apricot one – one
taste and you’re addicted. For ever. It’s one of the reasons I married him.’

Betty pours herself some more tea.

‘You’ll have people queuing down the road, love; make a change from all those lollies from the kiosks. You should do those smoothlies too. I had a lovely banana one last week, from Sainsbury’s, I think it was.’

Connie nods.

‘Mark wants a new juicer for the pub, so maybe we buy two?’

‘Great.’

I’m stacking bin bags of the soaked-beyond-rescue stuff outside on the pavement when a Labrador starts licking my feet.

‘Hello, Lady Denby.’

‘Hear you’re opening a tea shop. Excellent news. Hasn’t been anywhere to get a decent cup of tea round here for years. Just wanted to say well done, and do let me know if there’s anything I can do. Still have a bit of sway with the council, so if there’s any problem with permits or anything, you just let me know. Ridiculous nonsense, most of it. Didn’t have to wear special hairnets in my day to serve food, and it got us through the Blitz so it can’t have been that bad.’

She steps into the doorway.

‘I see you’re all busy. Stop that, Clarkson – you’ll have to stay in the car if you can’t behave.’

Clarkson is going into a frenzy of floor-licking, for some reason, and is edging towards Elsie’s feet.

‘I don’t know what gets into him, I really don’t. Anyway, I wanted to say well done. Jolly good. Must be off; got to get George some new glasses. Claims he can see for miles, silly
man, but he keeps breaking my china. Keep up the good work everyone. Good afternoon.’

Gran’s chuckling, and Elsie’s recovered from being stuck mid-curtsey whilst trying to avoid having her feet licked.

‘That was nice of her.’

‘Yes.’

‘She still has a lot of pull with the council, you know.’

Great; so now I’ve got half the town on my side, plus our local aristocrat ready to take on the council on my behalf. And we’re doing smoothlies and ice cream too. Sounds like a winner to me.

We’ve almost sorted the shop by the weekend, and I’ve had my appointment with the midwife to reassure Gran that my blood pressure hasn’t gone up, which it hasn’t, so I’m in the shop on Sunday morning, trying to finish the new window display. Martin and Reg are upstairs tacking up more plastic sheeting. It rained last night, so Elsie was round first thing emptying buckets and trays; she’s been really brilliant in the past few days, and she seems almost as excited about the café as Connie and I are, which is great.

‘There, that’s all done. Should last until we get the tiles up now.’

‘Thanks, Martin.’

‘I think you should leave the shop counter where it is; when you do all the building work for next door, it’s such a lovely piece.’

Reg nods.

‘I can remember old Mrs Butterworth standing behind that counter. Maybe you could make something similar for the café, Martin?’

‘I could try.’

They’re measuring and scribbling on pads of paper when the shop door opens, and we all turn as a man walks in.

Jesus Christ.

It’s Daniel.

‘Hello, angel. How’s it going?’ He’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and looking tanned and rather glamorous.

Christ.

He walks towards me, and kisses me.

‘Hello, Daniel.’

My voice sounds strange.

Dear God, what’s he doing here?

‘Are you redecorating or something?’

‘No, there was a fire.’

‘But everything’s all right?’

‘Yes, a huge mess, but –’

‘I meant with the baby.’

‘Oh, right, yes. Fine.’

‘Good.’ He stands back, and looks at me. ‘You look great, darling. I thought I’d buy you lunch. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?’

‘No, but I need to get the boys, and –’

‘It’s fine, love – you go and have lunch. Me and your Gran will see to the boys.’

‘Daniel, this is Reg, and –’ I turn and realise Martin’s disappeared upstairs.

‘Nice to meet you, Reg.’