The Tea House on Mulberry Street (36 page)

Chapter 47

P
ENNY
’
S
L
ATE
H
ONEYMOON

On the night that televisions all over the world counted down the seconds to the New Year, and the New Millennium, Penny and Daniel were sitting beside the fire in their suite in The Lawson Lodge. There was a cabaret evening in full swing in the bar downstairs. Shouts and screams of delight floated up the stairs as Big Ben chimed, far away in London. Penny raised her glass and proposed a toast to new beginnings. Daniel touched his glass to Penny’s, and said, “I love you, Penny Stanley, and thanks for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you, if you had… if the fire… well, I just don’t know. I’ll never tell you a lie, or hurt you in any way, ever again.”

It wasn’t enough, but Penny knew what he meant. They finished the champagne and Daniel put his arm round Penny’s shoulders as they sat watching the fire burning merrily in the grand fireplace. Penny turned to Daniel and touched his face softly, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. She moved his hands toward her breasts, and held them there while they kissed for a long time. Daniel knew then that Penny had forgiven him for his madness and meanness, and he knew it was time to make her his wife, properly. He gently undressed her and led her across the room to the four-poster bed, piled high with fat pillows, and he lifted her onto the white quilt.

Penny waited silently for him to take off his own clothes, and she reached out her hand to him and their fingers entwined.

Then they went to bed, together, and made love so passionately that Richard Allen himself would have blushed. That night was everything that Penny had daydreamed of for many years, and she decided that, truthfully, it was worth waiting for. The best thing about it was the feeling that they would never split up again. Penny just knew that whatever life threw at them, they would face it, and deal with it, together. Daniel was like a different person, now that he knew Penny was in his life forever. All his vague feelings of anxiety had just melted away. He knew, finally, that life was an unpredictable business, and no amount of worrying could change or alter its course, and that he could only go along with it and hope for the best.

They celebrated New Year’s Day by sharing a bubble bath, and having Christmas cake and champagne for breakfast.

They spent the holiday walking in the countryside, having long lie-ins, making plans for the tea house, and ordering delicious meals and cocktails. It was like a lovely late honeymoon, they both thought. And it was better late than never.

Chapter 48

T
HE
T
EA
H
OUSE
R
EOPENS

The regular customers in the tea house were amazed by what they saw when the shop re-opened six months later. Of course, Daniel had not paid enough insurance to finance the rebuilding completely, but he did have his fortune in the bank. And they had great fun spending it. Outside, there was a new bay window, a new front-door painted cobalt blue, and a new sign above the door with brass lamps over it. The sign said
Stanley’s Tea Rooms
, and it was very smart and dignified. Two neat bay trees stood sentinel in blue pots on the doorstep.

Inside, there was a coat of rich red paint on all the freshly-plastered walls. There were huge mirrors in gold frames, little round tables with marble tops and wrought-iron chairs. There were hand-painted cups and saucers on the shelves behind the counter. A fat white sofa beside the window lent a touch of decadence. There were fresh lilies in a glass vase on the counter.

Daniel hired a chef to do all the cooking, and gave him permission to choose the menu. Now, instead of scones and jam, there were French pastries oozing chocolate cream, and Italian bread with exotic fillings. New tiles on the floor replaced the cracked linoleum. And the flat upstairs was converted into a magnificent dining-room with a glass roof. Three waitresses wearing jeans and T-shirts, with pencils behind their ears, carried meals to the tables on round silver trays. Penny and Daniel were thrilled with it all.

They bought a little flat beside the Lagan river. Richard Allen sold it to them and wished them well. When Penny went in to his office to collect the keys, she told Richard that she had rescued her marriage and that she wouldn’t be seeing him any more. Richard said that was great news but that he would miss her a lot. It was the truth.

Daniel and Penny came in to work at twelve o’clock each day, just to see how things were ticking over. Daniel’s bank account was almost empty, and he had never been happier.

The editor of the
Belfast Telegraph
sent a reporter round to do a feature on the cafe, and several magazines wanted reviews for their social pages. Penny and Daniel were photographed standing behind the counter, holding up a cherry cheesecake on a glass cake-stand, and smiling broadly.

Sadie was about to throw the paper in the bin, when she spied a small photograph of a happy-looking couple holding up a giant cheesecake on a glass cake-stand. They were smiling tenderly at one another. The man had his arm firmly round the woman’s waist. There was great tenderness in the way the woman looked back at him. Sadie read the article underneath. The people in the photograph were Penny and Daniel Stanley, the owners of a tea house on Mulberry Street.

“Well, well,” said Sadie, and she read on. “So, they’re back in business.”

The Stanleys had just carried out extensive renovations to the property, which had been destroyed in a fire, and they had converted the upstairs flat into a conservatory-style dining-room. The reporter seemed to think the establishment was well worth a visit.

She caught the bus at the end of the avenue and the trip seemed to take forever. When she finally stood outside the shop, her stomach was pleading to be filled. She went inside. Delicious smells, sweet and savoury, were everywhere. Every table was occupied by ladies lunching. Sadie recognised Penny from her picture in the newspaper. She was unrecognisable from the old days, with her new hairstyle and her lovely clothes.

Penny came rushing out from behind the counter to tell Sadie that she could be seated upstairs in their spacious new dining-room. Sadie was delighted. Minutes later she was sipping caffè latte, and devouring a slice of strawberry cheesecake that melted on her tongue. She was still hungry so she ordered an Italian dish of toasted bread, cheese, tomatoes and red peppers.

Sadie thanked the pencil-thin waitress who brought her meal upstairs, and watched her as she stepped lightly down the stairs. She ignored her own generous hips, and her soft ankles as she sprinkled salt and pepper on the little tower of gourmet heaven. The food was delicious. She read the menu as she ate. It was a story of ecstasy. The chef was Italian. He had selected all the dishes himself. There was carrot and chestnut soup with cream and croûtons, home-made wheaten bread with stout and sesame seeds, chargrilled chicken strips with hot salsa and sour cream, spicy potato wedges with chopped leeks, roast beef and chutney toasted sandwiches. There were twenty different kinds of coffee, and forty varieties of pastry. Everything came drizzled with olive oil, or dusted with icing sugar or cinnamon.

Sadie had plenty of time on her hands these days, with no-one left in the bungalow to take care of. She applied for a position as a waitress in the tea house on Mulberry Street, and got it.

Penny was very kind at the interview and said that Sadie had just the right personality for the job. Warm and welcoming, and always smiling. Sadie celebrated her new life with a glass of champagne, a new perm, and a slice of cherry cheesecake.

Chapter 49

A H
ANDWRITTEN
N
OTE

When the day of Rose’s departure arrived, Henry left Aurora a handwritten note. It was very tender and romantic, and it said that although his heart was breaking, he was leaving Aurora and her dreams, and following a dream of his own. Aurora thought it was very sweet, and she tied a blue ribbon around it, and kept it in a secret drawer in her writing bureau. She was not sad.

David Cropper was calling round all the time. Aurora had daydreams about him, reading poetry to her, in a Georgian overcoat.

Henry was leaving her the house. He had signed a legal document. And she loved her conservatory far more than she had ever loved Henry.

“Take me with you,” said Henry to Rose, as they stood outside the tea house after their goodbye lunch.

“What?” said Rose. “You don’t mean that. I’m very fond of you, of course, but –”

“I love you,” said Henry. “I want to help you plant all those trees and flowers.”

“But your wife, your friends, your shop…”

“None of that matters now. Please. Let me drive you to Connemara, and stay a few days, and we’ll just see what happens. I know I am too old, and not nearly good enough for you, but my heart is young, and I love you, and I’m a great gardener.”

Mrs S Fogarty, of Fogarty’s General Store, Galway, was in great form. Her friend, Bronagh Gilmartin came into the store at teatime for a tin of pear halves, and found Mrs Fogarty dusting the shelves and singing merrily.

“What’s up?” said Mrs Gilmartin.

“My profits. That’s what’s up,” said Mrs Fogarty. “There was a couple in here not two hours ago, and they bought nearly the entire contents of the shop. They were on their way to Connemara, they said. They bought all the firelighters. I have none left, so I hope you weren’t looking for any. They bought twenty bundles of peat bricks, and two bottles of whiskey, and enough tinned food to feed the famine. And the funniest thing of all – the gentleman, for that’s what he was – he bought every packet of seeds on the stand!”

“Flower seeds? Holy smoke! All of them, you say?”

“Yes. Hundreds of packets. Look, it’s empty. I’m glad I bought that cash-register last year. I couldn’t have counted it all up otherwise. The woman looked a bit younger than him, and she had a local accent. A bit of a hippy, by the look of her. But he was very distinguished, with a bow-tie, and a hint of a Belfast accent. It’s my guess they weren’t married; at least not to each other. They looked too happy. But times is changing. We must remember that. Will you not be awful lonely?, I said. Them wee cottages is miles away from anything, I said, for there’s nothing out that way but stones and ghosts. I said at the time, Bronagh, as you well know, that those holiday-homes were a complete waste of money. But, no, he said to me. We’ll be just fine. Thank you for asking, says he, but we have everything we need. So there you are now, Bronagh. What do you think of that?”

Chapter 50