The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts

by Jennifer Joyce

‘Madeleine.’ The corners of Mum’s lips tremble as she tries – and fails – to smile. ‘How are you?’

  I’m bricking it about tonight’s date night, but I don’t tell Mum this. ‘I’m great. Fantastic. How are you?’

  Mum looks down at her hands. ‘I’m ashamed of myself, actually.’ She looks up at me briefly before dropping her gaze again. ‘You were right – I should have been thinking about you and how everything had affected you. I was thinking of myself. No, feeling sorry for myself and projecting all the fear and loneliness I felt back then onto Penny. Of course she was in the wrong and you shouldn’t forgive and forget. You’ve made a new life for yourself and I’m proud of you.’

  Mum looks up and holds my eye this time, managing a weak smile. ‘I’m sorry. I truly am.’ She takes a peek over her shoulder, to where Dad and Birdie are tucking into their apple crumbles. Dad lifts a hand in greeting but he doesn’t get up as he once would have. ‘Is that …?’

  ‘Dad’s new girlfriend?’ I ask. ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘She looks nice.’

  ‘She is. Birdie’s been good for Dad.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Mum says. ‘I still care about him, you know. He wasn’t just my husband for all those years. He was my best friend too and I hated hurting him the way I did, but I couldn’t help the way I felt. It was the right decision to go.’ Mum nods her head, as though she’s reaffirming this to herself as well as to me. ‘And he looks happy now.’

  It’s taken long enough for him to reach this point, I almost say, but I keep it locked inside. Mum’s right; you can’t stay with someone just to make them happy.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ I ask instead. ‘I’ll even throw in a cake, on me.’

  Mum smiles and nods. ‘Those jam tarts have my name written all over them.’

  Caleb texts me at lunchtime, but I’m so rushed off my feet I don’t get the chance to answer until mid-afternoon. The teashop has quietened down by two o’clock so I leave Victoria manning the counter while I slip into the kitchen to start preparing the bakes for tonight. I’ve decided on a menu of mini Black Forest trifles, bite-sized apple tartlets with a salted caramel sauce, chocolate mousse with candied orange peel, miniature homemade Jaffa cakes, and finally a pear and Prosecco sorbet. I’ve already mapped out the recipes and I’ve made each individual dish a million times before, so everything should run along smoothly.

  I’m elbow deep in pastry when I remember the text message that came through earlier. Wiping my hands on a towel, I grab my phone from the front pocket of my apron and open the text.

  How are you feeling about tonight? xxx

  I smile at the use of three kisses and tap out a reply.

  Terrified! Prepping the desserts while we’re quiet xxx

  I hang around for a reply, which comes almost immediately.

  You have nothing to be scared about. Tonight will be amazing! xxx

  More kisses!

  How are you texting, btw? Are you skipping school? :O xxx

  I’m hiding in the PE store cupboard. Ssh ;) xxx

  That’s nine kisses Caleb has sent me now and I suddenly wish they were real-life, on-the-lips kisses. Feeling bold, I tap out a message.

  Why don’t you come over tonight? We can celebrate the success (fingers crossed) of The Sweetest Kiss xxx

  I press send before I can change my mind and lean against the counter, praying Caleb answers with a yes. I don’t think I’d be able to pluck up the courage to invite him round again if he turns me down.

  ‘Maddie?’ Victoria pops her head around the kitchen door, waving her ringing mobile at me. ‘Do you mind if I take this in the office? It’s really important.’ She bites her lip and flashes me her very best puppy dog eyes. How can I refuse?

  ‘Go on then.’ I grab the towel and give my hands a more thorough rub before making my way out into the teashop. The only people still remaining in the teashop are Robbie and Annette from the florist’s, and as they’ve already been served and are currently working their way through a banana milkshake and a handful of mini brownie bites, I sneak a peek at my phone.

  I’ll be there! Do you need a waiter? xxx

  I slip my phone back into my apron pocket as Victoria surges back into the teashop, eyes wide and hands slightly trembling as she takes hold of my forearms.

  ‘I’ve just been on the phone to Abigail Taylor,’ she tells me, squeezing my arms slightly too hard. Her words come out in a massive rush and it takes all of my concentration to keep up with them. ‘My mate’s a barman at The Farthing, and he told me the singer they’d booked has cancelled and I could take the gig if I wanted to. I told Abigail about it just now, expecting her to say it was too short notice, but she says she’s free and can come and see me. So I’ve got to sing tomorrow night in front of Abigail. I’ve never performed on my own before. I don’t even have the equipment! What am I going to do?’

  ‘You’re going to calm down,’ I tell her, leading her into the office. I keep the door open, just in case any more customers arrive, and seat her at the desk. ‘Take a few deep breaths and we’ll see if we can work it out.’

  It turns out Victoria isn’t so worried about the lack of equipment; she’s sure one of her mates can lend her what she needs. It’s more the fact that everything is happening so fast and she doesn’t feel prepared.

  ‘I’ve never performed without the guys,’ she tells me. ‘What if I can’t do it on my own?’

  ‘You can do it,’ I tell her. ‘You’re an amazing singer and if Abigail didn’t think you had potential, she wouldn’t be wasting her time by coming to see you on a Saturday evening.’

  ‘I’m scared,’ Victoria admits.

  ‘Me too. I’m terrified tonight is going to be a huge flop, but I’ve got to try, haven’t I?’ I think about Nicky’s offer to come over for moral support and how much that simple act means to me. ‘Why don’t I come to the gig? I’ll ask Mags and Nicky to come too and we can be your groupies. Maybe Caleb and Neal will come too. We’ll cheer and scream really loudly so Abigail has no doubt how talented you are.’

  Victoria smiles and I see her shoulders drop ever so slightly. ‘Thanks, Maddie.’

  I leave Victoria to make some calls about the equipment she needs and head back into the teashop, slipping my phone out of my pocket to send another text to Caleb.

  Victoria’s freaking out about a gig she has tomorrow night. Trying to get a group together for support. You in? xxx

  It’s my night with Cara. Will ask Nan if she’ll babysit xxx

  I’m torn between wanting to spend time with Caleb and taking away his time with his daughter. In the end, it’s the guilt that replies.

  No, you spend time with Cara. We’ll just scream extra loud to make up for it :P xxx

  I’ll ask Nan to keep an eye on Cara and come over when she’s in bed to help cheer Victoria on xxx

  I’ve lost count of the number of kisses we’ve exchanged by text, but hopefully we’ll get to experience the real thing very soon.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I manage to prepare the bakes for tonight in between serving customers, so all I’ll need to do later are a few finishing touches. I’m contemplating escaping to the office with a cup of tea when the teashop’s phone rings. Victoria is busy wiping down the recently vacated tables so I pick up the receiver, tucking it between my ear and shoulder so I can make a cup of tea at the same time.

  ‘Hello, Sweet Street Teashop.’ I grab a teabag and throw it into a cup. My stomach is still a mass of nerves, so I’ll forgo the cake during my break and stick with just the tea.

  ‘Can I speak to Madeleine Lamington please?’ the voice on the other end asks.

  ‘Speaking.’ I add boiling water to the cup and turn to the fridge for the milk. But I soon forget about the milk when the woman on the phone explains she’s calling from a local news program and they’re hoping to feature The Sweetest Kiss at the end of their six o’clock bulletin. It’ll only be a short feature, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it
sort of thing, but I’m stunned. My teashop is going to be on TV!

  ‘I know it’s short notice,’ the woman, whose name I have forgotten in the excitement, says. ‘We were supposed to be filming at the animal sanctuary up the road but they’ve had to cancel at the last minute. I read about your date night in the paper the other day and I thought it’d be of interest to our viewers. It’ll be great exposure for future events.’

  Won’t it just! We’re going to be on TV!

  Uh-oh. We’re going to be on TV.

  ‘What do you think?’ the woman asks, interrupting my thoughts. I’d already mentally bolted up the stairs to my flat and changed out of my jeans and trainers. ‘We could be with you in half an hour.’

  ‘That sounds great,’ I say, reaching behind my back to untie my apron. We say goodbye and I babble a quick explanation at Victoria before I bolt out of the back of the teashop and up to my flat. Kicking off my trainers while hopping over to the wardrobe, I fling open its doors and contemplate my clothing choices. They’re pretty slim, to be honest. I have the odd dress but I mainly stick to comfy, worn-in jeans or leggings. Of the dresses, the most suitable is a navy, short-sleeved tea dress with tiny pale blue roses. I throw my jeans and T-shirt onto the bed and slip the dress over my head.

  Grabbing a pair of black ballet pumps, I do a run-hop-slip-shoe-on combo through the flat. Once the shoes are on, I race down to the teashop again, calling to Victoria that I’ll be back in five minutes as I make a dash for the door at the front. I pelt down Kingsbury Road and push my way into Nicky’s salon.

  ‘I’m going to be on TV,’ I rasp. ‘Hair’s a mess. Only got twenty minutes before crew arrive.’

  Nicky, who is midway through an eyelash tint, springs into action, pulling me towards one of the swivelling chairs sitting in front of a large mirror. ‘I’ll be with you in thirty seconds. You shall go to the ball!’

  Once Nicky’s customer is chemical-free, she waves her magic wand over my hair (a magic wand that’s shaped like a brush) and pins my locks into a casual yet elegant up do. Next comes the make-up, which is applied far more liberally than I’m comfortable with.

  ‘It’s for the cameras,’ Nicky tells me, sweeping blusher in an alarming shade onto my cheeks. ‘Trust me.’

  I do, until Victoria bursts out laughing when I return to the teashop, finger pointing at my face and everything.

  ‘Too much?’ I ask, but Victoria can’t speak as she’s still overcome with the hilarity of it all. Ducking into the kitchen, I do my best to dab off the worst of the make-up while keeping some intact. I’ve managed to make myself look a bit more presentable when the crew’s van pulls up outside the teashop, spilling people and equipment onto the pavement.

  ‘Madeleine Lamington?’ a woman asks as she strides into the teashop, her hand outstretched.

  ‘Maddie,’ I say, shaking her hand. Neal didn’t refer to me as Madeleine in the article so the woman must have carried out a bit of research beforehand, which is a bit unnerving. I’ve never been researched before, unless googling my own name counts.

  ‘We’re just going to set up. Is over here by the window okay? We’ll have you seated with a few cakes and a cup of tea, to set the mood, and then we’ll do a quick interview. We’ve only got a three-minute slot to fill, so it won’t be anything too heavy.’

  I grab a plate, filling it with jam tarts, brownies and a couple of the best-looking cupcakes while the camera is put into place. Victoria makes tea for everyone and then it’s show time.

  ‘And finally, we have Manchester’s answer to Cilla Black as teashop owner Madeleine Lamington is set to matchmake couples with cake this evening. We’ve all heard of speed dating, but have you ever heard of cake dating?’

  The presenter in the studio cocks one eyebrow at the camera before the shot switches to the exterior of Sweet Street Teashop, with the reporter I met this afternoon standing outside. She outlines the idea behind The Sweetest Kiss before popping inside, joining me at the table filled with tea and cake.

  ‘There you are!’ Nicky squeals, pointing at the TV. Nicky, Victoria, Caleb and I have gathered in the flat after closing the teashop so we can watch the news before we launch The Sweetest Kiss, which will be starting in just over an hour.

  ‘What inspired you start a dating service in your teashop?’ the reporter asks TV-me.

  ‘I love baking and I want to share that love with others. I’ve seen how cake can bring people together and I want to replicate that week after week.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ I groan, covering my face with my hands as TV-me witters on about intimate settings, carefully matched groups and – worst of all – love being sweet. ‘I sound like a buffoon.’

  ‘You do not.’ Caleb pulls my hands away so I close my eyes, watching TV-me through a tiny slit as it seems easier somehow this way.

  ‘It’s like speed dating,’ TV-me says now. ‘With cake.’

  And that’s it. The shot returns to the studio, where the presenter wraps up the show.

  ‘You were great,’ Caleb tells me.

  ‘I can’t believe my bestie was on TV!’ Nicky throws her arms around me and gives me a squeeze. ‘My mum’s recording it and everything.’

  I pull a face. ‘Mine too. And Dad. I bet I’ll have to rewatch it next time I go round.’

  ‘They’ll be so proud of you, hun,’ Nicky tells me. ‘I know I am.’

  ‘I was only on for thirty seconds,’ I point out.

  ‘That’s thirty more seconds than I’ve been on TV,’ Victoria says.

  ‘But you’re going to be on TV all the time when you’re a megastar.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll get to do Graham Norton?’ Nicky asks her. ‘I love a bit of Graham, don’t you? I want to get flipped in his chair.’

  I turn off the TV and we make our way down to the teashop. Technically, Victoria’s shift ended over an hour ago, but she stuck around to watch our segment on the news. She offers to stay to help out with The Sweetest Kiss, but I insist she goes home and prepares for her gig tomorrow. Nicky and Caleb have already agreed to come with me in support of Victoria, and although Mags and Owen have plans, they’re going to pop in first.

  ‘I’ve got a couple of helpers for tonight,’ I tell Victoria, nodding at Nicky and Caleb, so she grabs her coat, wishes me luck and heads off. The three of us quickly get to work, draping crisp white tablecloths over each table and placing the mini lamps I found pretty cheap online in the centre. The lamps are all charged via USB so there aren’t any health-and-safety issues with trailing wires. We set them to low to create a romantic atmosphere. Beside each lamp is the table number, which I’ve printed onto thick card and laminated. I take a shot of table one and upload it across our social media.

  All ready for tonight’s date night! Who would be your perfect match? #TheSweetestKiss

  There’s a knock at the door, which sends me into a bit of a panic as the participants aren’t due to arrive for another twenty minutes, but it’s only Neal and his camera.

  ‘I thought I’d take a few shots for a follow-up piece, if that’s okay?’ he asks. I’d be mad not to take him up on the offer. His first article has already created a buzz that will hopefully build more and more through word of mouth.

  ‘You won’t need to step in this time,’ he tells Nicky, who posed for a photo during the trial run. ‘Though that photo last time was fantastic. A couple of the guys at work asked if you were still single, but don’t worry – I told them you weren’t.’

  ‘And why would you do that?’ Nicky asks, but Neal doesn’t hear as his attention is caught across the room when the teashop door opens. A girl in her early twenties steps hesitantly inside, wide eyes searching the room. She’s small – barely five feet – with a long blonde ponytail and fringe and a twinkling piercing in her nose.

  ‘I’m early, I know. Sorry.’ She bites her lip and I notice another stud below her lower lip. ‘I can’t help it. My mum says I’ll be early for my own funeral.’

  ‘Bea!’ Neal str
ides away from Nicky, enveloping the girl in a bear hug. ‘Guys, this is my baby sister.’

  ‘Hello, Bea.’ I make an ushering movement with my hand. ‘Come in properly.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asks. ‘I can wait outside for a bit, until it’s time.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. We’re pretty much set up now.’ I take a look around the teashop. It looks pretty damn good with our little adjustments. I just hope the paying participants think so too.

  ‘I think Neal might like me,’ Nicky whispers while he and Bea are chatting. ‘Some of his workmates asked if I was single and he told them no. Why would he do that if he wasn’t trying to ward them off?’

  ‘I can’t think of any other reason,’ I say.

  Nicky grasps hold of my hands and gives them a squeeze. ‘Maybe he’s actually shy when it comes to women. Do you think I should …?’ She nods her head firmly. ‘Yes, I’m going to do it. I’m going to make a move on him tonight.’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I nip up to the flat to change before the other participants arrive, swapping the blue tea dress I’d put on for the news item for the maroon dress I bought especially for this evening, as I wanted to smarten myself up for the event. The sleeveless dress is cut to just above the knee and has a scooped neckline and a wide silver belt to add a bit of interest. I finish off the look with a pair of simple black slingbacks and a pair of dangly silver earrings. I add a tiny bit of make-up (anything more will only slide down my face from the heat of the oven) and return to the teashop, where I finish off the Black Forest trifles with whipped cream and a glacé cherry.

  By the time I’ve finished, the other participants are beginning to filter into the teashop. Imogen and Zoe are here, looking even more stunning than usual, as well as Nicky’s nail technician, Olivia. Robbie and Little Jordan are hovering on the sidelines, eyes wide and palms more than likely sweaty. There are two more guys I don’t recognise who are students from the local college. I mingle, introducing myself to newcomers, Tay and Krishna, while we wait for the last two participants, which according to my list, are Rehana and George from next door.