The Cosy Teashop in the Castle

by Caroline Roberts

  ‘Come up to order?’ Doris made it sound like Ellie had just suggested they waitress in bunny-girl outfits. Ellie tried to push away the image that was forming in her mind – Doris in a … no, no, no. ‘Well, that’ll never work. We always used to take orders at the tables. Proper waitress service, that is.’ Her moment was evidently here. ‘Our customers like that. Feel they are being looked after.’ She was shaking her head at Ellie and tutting away like Skippy the kangaroo.

  Ellie knew she’d have to stand her ground. She was the one in charge, after all, ‘Well, I believe it gives the customer a chance to see what cakes and treats there are on offer, which is helpful for them and will surely lead to more sales. They can order quickly, take their teas and coffees, and then take their seats and relax, as we’ll still be serving them thereafter. It happens in lots of places that way, and most people seem very happy to do that.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t happen here,’ Doris grumbled on.

  ‘It will from now on, Doris.’ Ellie felt she were drawing battle lines, staking her claim on her authority.

  Nicola sat quiet, her eyes low, finishing the last of her scone, clearly not wanting to get involved with the heated discussion.

  ‘Right, I’d like you both to start at nine-thirty on Friday. You’ll be doing five days a week, nine-thirty till four-thirty. I’ll be staying after that time to tidy up. You’ll be paid by the hour. I’ll be able to keep your wages the same as last year. Joe told me you were paid at £7 per hour. I hope that’s still okay. Now, I understand the castle is closed on a Wednesday. I’ll need you both in on the weekends, but you can choose another day off, either on a Monday or Tuesday. I’ll let you decide between you.’

  ‘Sounds fair enough,’ Doris appeared to concede. ‘Though I think you’ll find that a Thursday and Tuesday are the quieter.’

  That wasn’t what the admissions figures she’d now looked over showed. ‘Well, we’ll see how things go on. We’d need to be flexible, if that’s the case.’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine with that,’ said Nicola, who seemed happy to agree with everything, ‘I don’t mind which days off I have. Doris, you can choose.’ Nicola smiled, adding, ‘And the scones are lovely, Ellie.’

  ‘Hmn, not bad,’ came from Doris.

  ‘Any other questions, ladies?’

  ‘How will we get paid, then? Weekly? Cash?’ asked Doris.

  ‘Yes, I’ll do a weekly pay packet for your both. And when you come in this Friday there’ll be a contract for you to sign.’

  Doris’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. ‘We never had no contracts before. And I ain’t signing nothing till I’ve had chance to read it.’

  ‘Fair enough. I’ll have them ready for Friday, so you can take them home and read them. That’s fine. You can sign on Saturday. It’s all straightforward stuff, just some basic conditions, health and safety regs to adhere to, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Hmn, I see. Well, I’ll have a read of them first.’

  ‘That’s no problem, Doris.’

  ‘So where was it you worked before then, anyhow? In Newcastle, was it? Somewhere we’ll have heard of? Some fancy restaurant or something?’ Doris was quizzing her now.

  Ellie knew the truth had better not come out now, or her hard-earned authority might be very short-lived.

  ‘Oh, just a small bistro. I doubt if you’ll have heard of it.’ White lies, skin of teeth. Smile. ‘Well, then, I’ve got lots to do still, so I’d better get on, unless you have any other questions?’

  Doris seemed to be thinking, but said, ‘No, no not for now. We’d better be getting on too, hadn’t we, Nicola?’

  ‘Well, nice to meet you both. See you on Friday.’

  Friday. D-Day.

  8

  Ellie

  She was exhausted, her hands were sore from kneading dough, her body was aching, and her brain felt all fuzzy. She glanced at the old wall clock in the kitchen, nearly seven-fifteen pm, Thursday … and she still had sooo much to do, but all she really felt like was a nice lie-down on a cosy sofa.

  Yesterday, she’d taken a drive through to Kirkton along winding lanes, the hedgerows thick with honeyed primroses, past wide-open fields with skipping lambs. The spring sun was finally out and the glow gave the whole landscape a new look. Ellie had gone to source a butcher for ham for her sandwiches, and had put an order in for fresh bread rolls to go with the soup at the bakery – she’d have loved to have made her own, but there were only so many hours in one day.

  She had also found a cute little flower shop on the high street – she’d wanted to buy spring posies to put on the tables for over the Easter weekend. The lady there was lovely, introducing herself as Wendy, suggesting Ellie stick with carnations and freesias as they would last a bit longer, and putting her off the daffodils she was keen on, after hearing it was for a food venue. ‘Those yellow carnations will last far longer, and put with the colourful freesias they’ll look really pretty, and smell gorgeous. Daffodils can smell a bit piddly, pet, once they’re on the turn.’ She’d also put her straight as to where she could pick up some oilcloths in the town. Ellie headed there next, while Wendy made up the posies, ready to pop straight into the little coloured-glass vases she’d promised to sell Ellie at a discount, seeing as she was buying several. When Ellie got back to the flower shop, Wendy wanted to hear all about Ellie’s new venture taking over the castle teashop, saying she’d put in a good word for her around the town and drum up some local business.

  Ellie had driven back with a smile on her face and had set about baking several cakes ready to freeze in advance.

  Today, Thursday, found her baking another five cakes, including, of course, the famous choffee, a double batch of cup-cakes to turn into Easter extravaganzas with mini chocolate eggs, crumbled Flake bars and hundreds and thousands for the topping, and chocolate-chip cookies. The scones would have to wait till the morning, fresh every day; her nanna wouldn’t have had it any other way. She’d still need to make a huge batch of coleslaw, and scrub all the jacket potatoes ready to go in the oven in the morning too. Two pans of soups were simmering away on the massive stove – a leek and potato and a tomato and lentil, a last-minute ingredient change after another trip to the tiny supermarket in Kirkton and the realisation that she wasn’t going to get fresh basil in the small local town.

  Oh dear lord, tomorrow was Friday, the Easter weekend – she really didn’t know what to expect. Would it be really busy? Would she be running around manically like a blue-assed fly? Or quieter than she imagined and she’d be left with loads of stuff? She just had to do as much prep as possible as she really didn’t know. But now it was getting late and she’d lost her energy – bad timing. There was no way she’d be getting an early night tonight. And there wasn’t going to be a lot of rest over the next few days either, with the teashop open.

  A knock on the kitchen door startled her. It swung open. Joe stood there with a grin on his face. ‘I saw the light on, thought you might be working late. Pizza? Do you fancy any? I’m going into town – can’t get enthused about cooking tonight.’

  Hmn, with his dark, floppy hair and wicked smile – he really was rather attractive. At least he had seemed to have thawed a bit since their meeting in his office … Ellie, behave, working relationship alert. ‘Ah, yes … yes. That’d be great. I don’t think I’ve eaten since, oh about twelve.’ And that had only been a packet of crisps. No wonder she was feeling a bit drained.

  ‘Wow, it looks pretty impressive here.’ He scanned the rows of cakes, cookies, pans of soup. ‘Looks like you’ve had a busy day. Well, I’d better get going, leave you to crack on. The pizza – any special flavours? Toppings?’

  ‘Hawaiian.’

  ‘A ham-and-pineapple girl, hmn.’ He eyed her thoughtfully, ‘I’m a Sloppy Giuseppe man myself.’

  She stifled a giggle. It made him sound like some kind of scruffy Italian, which kind of fitted, looking at his ruffled brown hair that was a touch too long in the fringe and neck line. ‘Is that th
e one with the spicy beef and peppers?’

  ‘That’s the one, though at Kirkton it tends to come out more like minced beef and onions. Still tasty, mind.’

  Ellie couldn’t agree more, and found herself blushing.

  ‘Right, well, I won’t be too long.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  * * *

  Joe

  He was balancing two pizza boxes in the crook of his arm and two bottles of cider in the other hand as he pushed back through the kitchen swing door.

  Wow, she’d been damned busy: cakes, cookies and more were piled on every surface. She was obviously a hard worker. He just hoped she could cope once they were open. He’d had a few doubts of late; she seemed less experienced than she’d led them to believe in the interview, not even knowing how to order the supplies. The food looked fantastic, though. With any luck the visitors would be in for a treat. Thank God, as Lord Henry was still going to take some convincing. The old chap would be watching her like a hawk over the coming weeks, especially as Joe had had to twist his arm to take the younger girl on.

  She looked up at him. She’d been mixing something in a big plastic bowl and had a cute smudge of flour across her nose and cheek. Laying the pizzas on the last free section of work surface, he resisted the urge to walk across, reach out a fingertip and brush the flour from her face. She was pale, he noticed, looked pretty tired; she must have been working from the early hours.

  ‘Pizzas,’ he announced, ‘Time for a break.’

  ‘Great, thanks. I’m starving. That’s crazy, huh? All this food here and I’ve hardly eaten all day.’

  ‘I bought some cider, too, just in case. Do you like it?’

  ‘Yeah, I do. I’m thirsty, that’ll go down well. How did you know I liked cider?’

  ‘Lucky guess, I suppose … And I like it, so I figured if you didn’t I’d just have to have the two.’

  They smiled at each other. She wiped her hands on her apron that clung just sooo nicely across her breasts. He quickly removed his gaze, hoping he hadn’t been caught in the act of staring. What was up with him? Come on, Joe, you know you always keep things professional at work at all times. He’d never had any trouble with eyeing up the staff in the past, but then Cynthia and Vera didn’t leave an awful lot to be desired, to be fair. Just some male instinct triggered, that was all. Best ignored. He knew when to leave well alone.

  ‘Mind you, I’d better not have much of that cider or I’ll be asleep before I get finished here,’ she muttered, not seeming to have noticed his loitering gaze.

  Should he stay? Would she like some company? She seemed pretty busy. He’d leave her in peace.

  ‘Umn, well, here’s your Hawaiian.’

  ‘Great, thanks. How much do I owe you?’ She moved to fetch her purse from her handbag.

  ‘Oh no, it’s on me. You look like you’ve put in a hard day’s work.’

  ‘No, Joe, I couldn’t.’

  ‘Of course you can. And, looking at this lot,’ he eyed the cakes on the counter tops, ‘I’m sure there’ll be a time when I’m desperate for a slice of your cake or something.’ The thought of something made him feel rather hot under the collar. What the hell was up with him?

  ‘Alright, then, thank you. But I’ll make sure I return the favour.’

  ‘Right, well I’d better let you get on.’ But somehow, he didn’t fancy going back to his quiet rooms just yet. The place had been like a ghost town over the winter. It was, in fact, meant to be haunted, but he’d never seen a hint of anything spectre-like – might have provided a bit of drama at least. But no, nothing.

  ‘Actually, I could do with a short break. So I don’t mind if you want to stop to eat your pizza. I’ve been on my own all day. It gets pretty quiet here, doesn’t it? I must admit, it’s a bit strange at night thinking it’s just you, me and Lord Henry here in this bloody big, ancient place.’

  ‘Oh, well, it’ll all change tomorrow, I tell you. Visitors in every nook and cranny. You’ll be glad for Wednesdays, our closed day, to come to get some peace and quiet. Henry hates it all really – having to open up the castle.’ Joe took a slice of pizza from the cardboard box and bit into its cheesy-meaty base. ‘In his eyes it’s a necessary evil to earn an income to keep this old place up, that’s all. He’d much rather shut it all off and live like a hermit. But it won’t pay the bills, unfortunately, or keep the rain out of the roof.’

  ‘Oh,’ she suddenly said, ‘Is Lord Henry having any pizza? Should we take him some up?’

  It was sweet that she thought of Lord Henry, but no, he’d never once mentioned about eating with Joe, preferring his own company, and, to be honest, Joe wasn’t sure that Henry would be the kind of company he wanted in his downtime. It made for a very quiet life at the castle, though. He suddenly realised he’d been living a bit like a hermit himself of late. ‘No, he’s not that sociable and I shouldn’t think pizza’s his kind of thing anyway. Prefers traditional food, I think.’

  ‘Does he cook for himself, then?’

  ‘Not often, no. Since his wife died a few years back, Deana tends to make him some meals up and leaves them for him to re-heat. We don’t really see much of each other of an evening, just keep to our own space. I suppose we’re both quite private.’

  ‘Like a pair of hermits,’ she smiled, echoing his thoughts. ‘How do you find it here? It seems a different way of life. Have you always lived in this area?’

  ‘No, I’m from Newcastle, actually. Byker way.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not far from me, Heaton.’

  ‘Yeah, I know it … Anyway, what made you want to give up the city life and come out here to the sticks?’ He steered the conversation back to Ellie – safer ground.

  ‘A change.’ She looked uncomfortable.

  The pause was telling. He sensed she was holding something back.

  ‘Well, my job wasn’t inspiring me any more,’ she continued, ‘I’d got stuck in a rut. I wanted to try something I love doing, not just something that paid my keep. So, here I am …’ She let the words drift, then tucked into a second slice of pizza, the oil from the cheese greasing her upper lip, which looked kind of sexy. Dammit.

  ‘Yes, here you are.’ He raised a cider bottle. ‘Opener?’

  She rummaged in the cutlery drawer and found a bottle opener, passing it to him.

  The cider fizzed as the tops came off, an appley aroma filling the air. He passed her one and they clinked bottles.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘Well, here’s to a successful starting weekend for you.’

  ‘And a great season for you and the castle too.’ She took a swig.

  He couldn’t help but smile, watching her. She seemed a nice enough girl, easy-going, maybe a bit naïve. But he’d just keep a friendly distance. He wasn’t used to having anyone else living here at the castle, apart from Henry.

  ‘Just to give you more idea of the set-up here, by the way, I’m generally behind the scenes when we’re up and running. Deana’s front of house, taking admissions, dealing with the day-to-day issues. There are also a couple of guides who come in, they keep an eye on the main rooms and do the tours: Derek and Malcolm. I’ll introduce you to them tomorrow, though I’m sure they’ll make themselves known and pop in for a cup of tea early on.’

  ‘Okay. No problem.’

  ‘And you’ve met your waitresses?’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ellie didn’t know quite what to say about that meeting.

  ‘Don’t worry about Doris, her bark’s worse than her bite.’ He knew how the middle-aged dragon might come across, but he wanted to reassure Ellie too, ‘They are both hard workers, honestly.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’

  The pizzas were nearly gone. Ellie leaving several crusts in the box, Joe noted, as he polished off his last slice.

  She looked across at him, ‘Do you like working here?’

  ‘Yeah, I do actually. Although it’s halfway to falling apart, it’s an amazing place. I recognise the castle has to run
as a business, unlike Lord Henry. And I want to give it a future not just a past. And though he hates to admit it, Lord Henry needs help with that. I try to keep things as unobtrusive as possible for him, so it can still be his home, but you have to have a business angle. And you need to have visitors in. It takes a lot of money to keep this place running, at the end of the day, just to stop it decaying and becoming a crumbling wreck. But yeah, it’s a good place to work. It’s different. I like it. It’s certainly not boring. It’s not like any other job or place of work I’ve ever been in before.’

  ‘Have you been here long, then?’ She took another sip of cider.

  ‘Four years now. Been the estate manager for the last two.’ He went quiet for a second or two, looking around. ‘Is that …’

  There was a scent of burning.

  ‘Shit, my last batch of cup-cakes.’ She flew off the stool she’d been sitting on and grabbed the oven gloves, taking out the baking tray, cursing. Joe could see all the cakes to one side of the tray had gone a dark shade of brown. The oven door did its swing just then, catching the bare skin of her arm just above the gloves. ‘Shite,’ she muttered under her breath, as she felt the skin singe. He couldn’t get there quick enough to stop it.

  ‘Are you okay? Put the tray down and we’ll get some water on that burn.’ He ran to turn on the cold tap. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, I’ve been interrupting you.’ She placed the tray down carefully, some of the cakes looked as though they might be salvageable, and walked to the sink, where he gently took her forearm and placed the reddened mark under the stream of cold water. ‘It’ll need a good few minutes in running water.’ He could see an angry welt developing.

  ‘I’m alright, honest. The oven door’s just a bit temperamental.’

  ‘Christ, you should have said. I’ll get it adjusted first thing in the morning, get our handyman in to look at it. Bloody typical, everything’s archaic here. I’ll get it all checked over. Should have done it before. I’m sorry.’