The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts

‘Is this the party you were talking about last time I was here?’ Birdie asks. She’s sitting by the window with her usual bowl of apple crumble and custard while Franklin waits patiently outside, his doggy treat long gone.

‘Sort of.’ I step back, gauging whether the poster is straight. ‘We didn’t get permission to use the garden so we’re having a scaled-down version here in the teashop. There’ll be lots of free samples and Victoria’s going to do some face-painting for the kids.’ I grab a flyer from the box that I’ve kept handy behind the counter and hand it to Birdie.

‘I’ll see if my Caleb can pop along with Cara,’ she says. ‘She loved the cakes and biscuits I took home for our tea party so I’m sure she’ll want to come.’

‘They’re more than welcome,’ I tell Birdie as the door opens. Dad is stooped in the doorway, scratching Franklin behind the ears as he slowly inches inside the teashop. He finally straightens, closing the door reluctantly as Franklin blinks at him with wide eyes through the glass.

‘You’re just in time,’ I tell Dad as I lead him to one of the tables. ‘The apple crumble is just out of the oven.’ I seat Dad before heading into the kitchen where I scoop a generous serving of apple crumble into a bowl and pour on thick, freshly made custard.

‘Best apple crumble I’ve ever had,’ Birdie says, lifting her loaded spoon as I place the dish in front of Dad.

‘She’s a smashing little baker,’ Dad says, winking up at me. ‘Always has been.’

‘This is my Dad,’ I explain. ‘Dad, this is one of my most loyal customers, Mrs Conrad.’

‘Birdie, please.’ Birdie reaches a hand across the small distance and shakes Dad’s hand. ‘Mrs Conrad is what the children call me at school.’

‘You’re a teacher?’ Dad asks.

‘Semi-retired. I do supply work now, three days a week. Keeps my brain active but I still get to enjoy leisurely days, stuffing myself with Maddie’s apple crumble. What is it you do …? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Clive,’ Dad says and I back away, leaving them to bond over their apple crumble while I join Mags in the office. She seems to spend more time in here than she does in the teashop and each time I see her hunched over the books at the desk, I grow more and more anxious.

‘The poster’s up,’ I tell Mags. ‘And Nathan and the others are going to pass the flyers out in exchange for baked goods.’ I’m doubly grateful for Nathan and the band’s generosity. They’ve not only stepped in to help spread the word, they’re doing it for free. ‘This is going to work, isn’t it?’

Mags tries to smile, though she can’t quite pull it off and it resembles a grimace. ‘I hope so. I really, really do.’

The alternative is unthinkable, so I busy myself with a bit of cleaning, making a start on the washing up while we’re quiet. Dad and Birdie are the only customers in the teashop and, as they’re entertaining themselves, I’m not really needed out in the teashop. Dad and Birdie are still chatting away as I clear their empty dishes but Birdie says her goodbyes when a fed-up Franklin start to yap outside the door.

‘Don’t forget these.’ I wave the usual bag of doggy treats and Birdie tuts and says I shouldn’t go to any trouble. ‘It’s no trouble. You know that.’

‘Franklin appreciates you going to the trouble, no matter what you say, so thank you from both of us.’ Birdie places the treats in her handbag and zips up her jacket. ‘I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Clive.’

‘You too, Birdie,’ Dad says and he waves as Birdie and Franklin pass the window.

‘Cup of tea?’ I ask Dad.

He checks his watch and nods. ‘I should have enough time to squeeze a quick one in.’ I make cups of tea for Dad, Mags and I, placing a cup beside Mags in the office before joining Dad out in the teashop.

‘So how’s your mum?’ Dad asks as he takes a sip.

‘Good, I think.’ I haven’t actually seen Mum since I last visited Dad so I have no further news. I can see Dad is itching for more information so I’m glad when Nicky descends noisily into the teashop, flopping down onto one of the chairs at our table.

‘So all the shops in the street now have a flyer in their window,’ she says as she shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over the back of her chair.

‘Sorry?’ I have no idea what Nicky is talking about.

‘The flyers. For the party tomorrow. I offered to put one in the salon window and Mags said yes. I thought I may as well ask the others if they’d put one up too and they all agreed. Rehana and George weren’t so keen at first, the miserable buggers, until I pointed out that Rehana’s eyebrows were looking a bit uneven and offered to tidy them up for mate’s rates.’

‘Thank you.’ I’m taken aback by how kind everyone is being. ‘Let me get you a cup of tea and some cake. On the house.’

‘Don’t be daft. You’re going to be giving away more than enough freebies tomorrow.’ Nicky grabs her purse and heads over to the fridge to see what we have on offer today. She selects a chocolate fudge cupcake before joining Dad again. They see each other quite regularly in the teashop so they chat easily but it wouldn’t matter if Dad was a stranger; Nicky has such a breezy confidence and a chatterbox nature, she could start a conversation with thin air.

‘Have you thought any more about asking Jane out?’ I ask Dad when I join them with Nicky’s cup of tea. I’ve asked in front of Nicky on purpose so she can back me up.

Dad shakes his head. ‘I’ve told you, I’m too old for all that dating malarkey.’ Dad says the word ‘dating’ as though it’s the new term for dogging, scrunching up his nose and almost shuddering at the mere thought.

Nicky is about to plunge the cupcake into her mouth but she pauses, cocking an eyebrow at Dad. ‘I beg your pardon? Nobody is too old for dating. I’m going to be dating until the day I’m shoved into a wooden box and buried in the ground.’

‘Oh, come on,’ I scoff. ‘I bet even death won’t stop you.’

Nicky laughs. ‘That’s true. I’ll probably flirt with the undertaker as he’s embalming me.’ She turns to Dad, eyebrows low to show her sincerity now. ‘Seriously, Clive. You’re never too old to date and you’re only what … mid-fifties?’

Nicky knows this isn’t true but her flattery works and the corners of Dad’s lips lift. ‘Sixty-two.’

‘Really?’ I think the squeak in Nicky’s voice is overkill but Dad is lapping it up, full-on grinning now.

‘I’ll be sixty-three in a couple of months.’

‘Wow, you’re looking good, Clive. This Jane is a very lucky woman. You should definitely ask her out.’

Dad’s grin slips. ‘Nah. I’m really not after a relationship. Far too long in the tooth for all that.’

‘Who said anything about a relationship?’ Nicky asks. ‘Go out, have a bit of fun. No strings.’ She winks at Dad and I feel a shudder of my own coming on. ‘You only live once, Clive.’

‘Why don’t you bring Jane along tomorrow?’ I suggest, and not only because it’ll mean an extra body in the teashop.

‘Like I said …’ Dad stands and slips on his jacket ‘… I’m too old for all that, strings or not.’

Chapter Seven (#ulink_f746c38e-9670-50cb-9f3e-1dcb814b464c)

I’m up extra early on Saturday morning, my eyes bleary as I move around the teashop’s kitchen, measuring, mixing and pouring ingredients, sliding trays in and out of the oven, transferring cakes and biscuits to cooling racks and containers. The croissants and cinnamon buns are already cooling by the time Mags arrives just after six and a batch of double chocolate chip muffins are being lifted onto the counter.

‘Blimey, girl. Have you been baking all night?’ Mags asks as she removes her jacket.

‘Not quite, but who needs sleep anyway?’ I say through a yawn.

Mags grabs an apron and slips it over her head. ‘Where do you need me?’

I consult the list that’s already splattered with flour and gooey cake mix. ‘Can you make the chocolate custard for the trifles?’ As well as our regular menu, I’m making the sample desserts for the party this afternoon, including Nicky’s favourite Black Forest trifle. I made the black cherry jelly last night, which is now set in little pots in the fridge. We’ll top the jelly with chocolate custard and whipped cream, adding chocolate sauce and a glacé cherry to finish.

‘Will do.’ Mags ties the apron around her waist and washes her hands before she makes a start on the custard while I pop a batch of bite-sized cherry scones into the oven. We work our way through the list, adding more tiny desserts to the menu, including all our favourites: peanut butter blondies (Victoria’s), raspberry cream cheese brownies (Mags’s) and fairy cakes (mine). Fairy cakes aren’t the most sophisticated of desserts but they remind me of Gran and they never fail to raise a smile. Who can say no to soft sponge covered in sweet icing and rainbow sprinkles?

Victoria arrives just before eight with Nathan and the rest of the band. I’ve heard a lot about Tom, Daniel and Josh but I’ve never actually met them before now, so it’s nice to put faces to the names. Even if I am covered in flour and starting to panic about the day ahead.

Victoria serves the trickle of early morning customers while Mags and I rush around the kitchen to make sure we’re as ready as we can be for the party. We can bake more as needed throughout the day but we’ve managed to get the bulk of the desserts ready by the time the boys head into town with the remaining flyers.

‘Cup of tea?’ Mags asks as I pull the ramekin dishes half-filled with apple crumble out of the oven and set them out on the side. I’ll make the custard nearer the time to top the dishes up with.