He’d drop by the tearooms, see how Ellie was getting on. It would surely have been a quiet day there too. He might even cadge a slice of chocolate-fudge cake or something if he was lucky. Ellie had seemed a little off yesterday when he had called in, not her usual bubbly self. He didn’t think he’d said anything to upset her, but then he never was much good at gauging women’s moods. They seemed to work on a different level, and whatever you said didn’t seem to be the right thing. He’d learned that from being with Claire those eighteen months, his longest-standing relationship to date. The odd time she was upset, he’d always managed to put his foot in it somehow. Anyway, that was all history – they were never really suited anyhow.
With it being so quiet this week, the tearooms couldn’t have taken much. Maybe that was what was worrying Ellie. After all, she had the lease monies to find, bills to pay, and the staff wages, and it was all pretty new to her. But this quiet spell was pretty typical for the time of year, though the dip was bigger than usual. However trade would definitely pick up in the coming weeks. He would mention that, reassure her.
He opened the metal latch of the teashop door, walked in. Ellie was sitting on her own at one of the tables, a half-eaten slice of cake poised before her. She looked up a little guiltily. No one else was there, just the sound of the fire crackling in the grate and the two of them.
‘That looks good,’ his voice broke the stillness. He smiled as he glanced at the cake.
Her eyes showed her embarrassment, ‘Damn, caught in the act. It looked like it might go to waste.’ Her glance went across to the counter still laden with scones and cakes.
‘That’d be a shame. I know it’s been pretty quiet. I should have warned you. Things can get slow for a few weeks this time of year. Don’t worry, it’ll pick up, always does.’
‘It had better do.’
She was worried, then, he mused. Of course, she’d have to manage her cash flow. He’d never really thought about it when Mrs Charlton was there, was more worried about making sure the lease payments came in regularly to keep the castle going. He hadn’t really got involved – or wanted to.
Ellie seemed quiet, thoughtful. The tone of her voice was different. There was a sadness in her eyes. He wondered if he ought to say something, go and put his foot in it again, no doubt, but took the chance. ‘Are you okay, Ellie? Umn, look … maybe if cash flow’s a bit of an issue this week, I can lower this month’s lease payment and add it on to the next, or something.’ Lord Henry would give him a bollocking if he found out. He’d just have to make sure he didn’t.
‘Oh, it’s not that,’ her voice was faint, ‘But thanks.’
Instinctively he laid a hand on her shoulder as she sat there before him. She was wearing a thin black jumper that was really soft beneath his fingertips, her body warm to his touch.
She looked up. There was some kind of connection, which broke with her words, ‘Well, I’d better get back to the kitchen to finish tidying up, get ready for tomorrow.’ She stood, as if to pass him, then paused. ‘Actually … a hug would be good.’
‘Ah yes … of course.’ It seemed an unusual request, one he hadn’t anticipated, but, yes, he could probably manage a hug.
He put his arms gently around her, a little awkwardly at first. She looked at him with emotions that he couldn’t trace, and then nestled her head into his chest. He reached his arms a little tighter, felt her relax against him. She was warm and soft, and smelled of some gorgeous perfume as well as the aroma of baking and cake, which was weirdly sexy. He hadn’t had a woman in his arms for a while now, and he had to admit it felt good. A little too good. He felt protective, initially, but then as she snuggled in closer with a small sigh, it happened, oh yes, the dreaded trouser snake was firing up. Shit, shit. This was so obviously not meant to be a sexy hug. For whatever reason Ellie needed some comfort, not Mr Snakey making his way toward her hip. Joe shifted his hips back a little, putting a gap between them, desperately trying to think of something else than the gorgeous curves of the woman in his arms. The castle accounts, the tax year-end was coming up, coming up – wrong words to choose. Damn, damn. He needed to arrange some new bin collections; try and renegotiate terms. That was working a bit better. Bins, bins, bins. But she was smelling so damned lovely. His arms were around her. He so hoped she hadn’t felt him there hard against her hip. Think of something else, man, anything, the bins, the bins …
* * *
Ellie
Ellie took a long, slow breath. What on earth had come over her? Yes, it had been a bit of a hard day, but she shouldn’t have asked him for a hug – very unprofessional of her. And now this was all very confusing because it felt lovely. Beautiful in fact. To be in a man’s arms after so long, no, to be in Joe’s arms. She knew it was all the shit about the wedding, her emotions had been haywire for the last couple of days, but she shouldn’t have involved Joe in it. But now she was here, his arms around her, his hands on her lower back, his breath warm in her hair. She felt a sense of calm. Her soul stilled. She could have stayed just like that for hours. How strange, when she hardly knew this guy. Breathing slowly, letting all those negative thoughts and feelings go. Just the sounds of their rhythmic breathing, the odd crackle from the fire. The light fading outside.
Oooh, she was going to be so embarrassed tomorrow. She pulled back, ‘Right … Okay, thanks for that.’ She tried to sound business-like. ‘Sorry about that. It’s just been a bit of a bad day, that’s all.’ She actually dusted herself down, and then felt mortified that he might think she was trying somehow to brush him off her. She felt her cheeks flush. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t very professional,’ she garbled on.
‘Do you want to talk?’ His eyes were a deep, dark hazel. They looked kind.
‘No, I don’t think so.’ That might tip her over the edge. The last thing she wanted was for Joe to see her crying, and shit-face Gavin was certainly not worth wasting any more tears over. Joe really didn’t need to be made aware of her crappy love life, or lack of it. ‘But thank you,’ she added with a small smile. ‘I’ll be okay now.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
* * *
Joe
It was the cue for him to go, but he stood a little longer, watching her as she turned and walked to the kitchen. What the hell had just happened there? He’d only gone in for a bit of chat and slice of cake. It was like the axis of his world had just shifted and he wasn’t sure quite how or why. A ‘Kapow’ moment, as Batman would have said.
13
Ellie
Well, she was going to make damned sure she didn’t let her guard down like that again in a hurry. And it had to be with Joe, her landlord, cringe – what had she been thinking?
That was the problem; she hadn’t been thinking, had she? Just feeling – and that was obviously a dangerous pastime. But it was all in control again now. The horrible non-anniversary was over and she could move on with the rest of her life.
It was the weekend. By some miracle the sun was shining, vivid-yellow daffodils were blooming like sentries all along the castle wall and the tearooms had customers – several of them. Doris and Nicola were busy serving, there was money in the till other than the float, and the day had passed in a flurry of soup-pouring, panini-toasting and jacket-potato filling.
Yes, busy was better, not so much time to think. Joe had popped in for the briefest of hellos in the afternoon. That was an awkward moment, but neither of them mentioned a thing about the hug – the best way forward, as far as she was concerned, and a bit of a relief.
But there were still the evenings to handle. She filled them, in the main, with baking for the next day, having a snack for supper while she was still in the kitchen, then back to her room, catching up with texts and emails and watching iPlayer. Lying there on her bed on Sunday evening, she heard the creak of the floorboards above her and wondered how Joe passed his time of a night. Sometimes she heard the tinny treble of his music when he had it on loud or the boom of film sou
nd effects. It was weird to think of him just above her there, in their wing of this centuries-old castle. Who else had lived here? What memories, secrets, loves and lives were held within these walls?
And she remembered the feeling of Joe’s arms around her; how very lovely that had been. She supposed there wasn’t any harm in just savouring the moment in private. She lay back on the bed with her eyes closed and let herself drift back, almost feeling the warmth, the strength of him around her. The smell of his citrus aftershave and his skin. But it was just a moment in time, a little lapse, pleasant yes, but never to be repeated. He must have thought she was some kind of emotional wreck, coming over all needy like that. Well, he wouldn’t see her like that again. She had it all under control.
Deana caught up with her on Monday morning, ‘A few of us are going out tomorrow night for my birthday. The Big five-oh, I hate to admit. We’re just out for a meal and a couple of drinks down at the pub in Wilmington if you fancy coming along. There’s me and Bill, the hubbie that is, Joe, Doris and her husband, Derek and Malcolm, and a couple more friends.’
‘Umn, okay that sounds nice. Thanks.’ It would be good to go out, do something different.
‘We’ll be meeting there at about seven. But if you want a lift, my Bill’s driving. We could stop by and pick you up here at ten to.’
‘Yes, that’d be good. Thanks.’ Yes, she’d enjoy some company, have a drink, a bit of supper, let her hair down a bit; she hadn’t done that since leaving home. And, being a Tuesday night, no one had to work the next day. Bonus.
The pub was in a pretty village of stone cottages that looked as if it had hardly changed in centuries. The only modern thing there was a pre-fab hut that was being used as a village hall, and even that must had been built in the Second World War. The Swan Inn, like the cottages, was built from the local honey-coloured stone. Inside, it was low-ceilinged with stone walls throughout and flagstone floors. They found a large table in an alcove, it was probably meant for eight, though there were ten of them, so it was a bit cosy along the bench-style seating of the back wall. She shifted in beside Joe, who had Doris and her husband, Clifford, alongside him. Bill went to get a round of drinks in, and they looked at the menus, chatting about their respective days and the nice spell of weather.
After enjoying a hearty supper of beer-battered fish and chips with mushy peas, a welcome change from leftover jacket potatoes and paninis, she sat spooning up the most delicious ice cream, next to Joe, who’d just wolfed down steak and chips.
‘This is amazing,’ she commented, ‘Never tasted anything so creamy. And those little chunks of fudge … are to die for.’
‘It’s from the local dairy.’
‘Oh fab! Well, we need to be getting some of this stuff for the teashop. It has to be a hit for the summer season.’
Deana chipped in, ‘Oh yes, and have you tried the honey-and-ginger flavour or their chocolate honeycomb? Delicious.’
‘I think I’ve seen little takeaway pots they do, too.’ Joe.
‘Ideal. Right, that’s it. I’m ringing the dairy up first thing in the morning. I’m getting an order in.’ She had plenty of room in the kitchen freezer now that the antlered beast had gone, and with the weather hopefully cheering up soon – with any luck it would sell well. Hmn, a trip to the ice-cream dairy might be in order. She might have to test several flavours. What a hardship. The joys of working in catering!
She looked around the group. All bar Derek and Malcolm were couples, she noted (and her vote was still out on them). Everyone had been chatting away; it had been nice easy company. The rest of their party were talking in small clusters, so she fell in with chatting with Joe. She was aware of the flank of Joe’s left thigh up close against her right leg, reminding her of his touch. Little electrical pulses seemed to zip between them, which she tried to ignore. She shifted a little, but there was nowhere to go; Doris’s ample bottom was filling the seat pad next to Joe, with Clifford, her husband, wedged in next to her. She took a gulp of cider.
‘How’s the family?’ Joe asked.
‘Oh fine, I speak to them often. Might even go and visit next week.’ That little plan had been forming in her mind. Next Wednesday might be the ideal time.
‘Where was it you lived again?’
‘Heaton, Newcastle.’
‘Yeah, of course, know it well. I was just along at Byker for most of my childhood.’
It had surprised her that he had been brought up there. It wasn’t the poshest end of Newcastle, by any means, and seemed at odds with him being here in a castle in the countryside as estate manager. Mind you, she knew better than to judge a person from where they’d been raised.
‘Yeah, my mam still lives there now.’ He smiled as he mentioned her, as though he was fond of her.
‘Oh, right. Well, ours is a terrace.’ Like the many rows and rows of houses in Heaton, brick-built suburbia, everyday life went on; people living, loving, going to work and school. ‘The castle seems massive compared to it.’
‘Yes.’ He wasn’t giving much away.
Ellie found herself curious about Joe’s background. ‘So was it just you and your mum?’ The cider was loosening her tongue.
‘Yeah, just us two.’
‘Oh.’ She wondered what had happened to his dad, was afraid to ask in case he’d left them, or something even worse.
‘It was fine. She’s great.’ His eyes twinkled then. ‘She worked hard, built up her own cleaning business. Was always busy, but she always tried to be there for me too, well mostly. She’d get back home for when I got in from school, and if she really had to work when I was about she’d take me with her. I’m a dab hand with a duster and a hoover.’ He grinned.
‘Well that’s good to know.’
‘Seriously, though, she taught me a lot about work, about running a business.’ His tone was full of admiration.
‘Do you see her often?’
‘Hmn, maybe not as often as I should. It’s sometimes difficult to get away from the castle. Maybe once a month or so.’
‘Does she come up?’
‘No.’ His answer was blunt and his tone suddenly flat. It struck Ellie as odd after the warmth in his voice before.
Oh well, maybe his mum didn’t drive or something. It was hard place to get to without a car. There wasn’t a train station for miles, and the buses were few and far between. She’d looked into it herself for the interview. ‘Well, I think I’ll visit home next week. I kind of miss them.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Joe uttered. ‘It seems like you get on well?’ Joe seemed pleased to shift the conversation back to her.
‘Yes, in the main. My mum and I are fairly close, just very different as personalities. I always felt closer to my nanna, really.’ Ellie went quiet. Joe looked at her, the past tense hanging like a question. ‘She died about eighteen months ago,’ Ellie added.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ His hand brushed hers on the tabletop, just the lightest of touches. It was a sympathetic gesture, nothing more, but she didn’t know what to do. A bubble of panic filled her, and she shifted her hand away quickly. ‘Was she the lady behind the famous choffee cake? I seem to remember you mentioning that at your interview.’
Wow – he’d remembered. ‘She is indeed – the very one. I still use her recipe book for it.’
‘That’s nice. A bit of a legacy, then.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is. She used to work at the local old people’s home. Made them cakes all the time to take in, to cheer them up. She was an amazing baker. She’d have loved to have her own teashop, I’m sure.’
A flash of light and laughter surrounded them as the landlady brought out a knicker-bocker-glory – Ellie hadn’t seen one of those since she was a kid, down on the seafront at Whitley Bay – flaming with an indoor sparkler, and a warbled voice singing ‘Happy Birthday’, with which they all joined in.
Once the out-of-tune sing-a-long had ceased, Joe offered to get the next round of drinks in for them all, but as he was wedged in along t
he back seat, he gave Malcolm and Derek a couple of £20 notes to fetch it in for him.
Ellie was on her fifth half of cider now and feeling a tad tipsy. She noticed that Joe had been on Coca-Cola after his initial pint of ale. Malcolm and Derek were standing at the bar. They didn’t touch but were standing close, chatting easily, and something in the lean of a head, the warmth of a smile between them made her realise that they probably were a couple. They were in their late fifties, maybe, from a generation where no one really mentioned being homosexual. Maybe they had managed to protect their own private world in the shelter of their working lives at the castle and their quiet, rural lives. She knew that they shared a cottage in the castle grounds. Ellie thought they made a great couple. After all, love came in many forms.
They came back with another round of drinks. Malcolm passed across her cider. They did a ‘Cheers’ for Deana’s birthday, and by the time they had emptied their glasses once more, it seemed a good time to be time to be going home. It had been a lovely night.
‘I’ve got my car if you want a lift back?’ Joe asked her.
‘Ah, alright, yes, thanks.’ Other than the hand-brushing moment, it had just been friendly between them, which was fine by Ellie. And a lift would save Deana and Bill having to detour right down the castle driveway and back out again.
There was a mass gathering of coats and kisses, ‘Happy Birthdays’ and ‘Goodbyes’.
The cold air and the dark hit Ellie as she got outside. She felt a little bit wobbly.
The Cosy Teashop in the Castle Page 11