The Cosy Teashop in the Castle

by Caroline Roberts

  It seemed to have been a great success. Ellie hadn’t had a chance to add up the takings, but from the sheer volume of customers, her sore feet and the fact they had run out of burgers and only had a couple of hotdogs left, it seemed likely they had done really well. She’d give Doris and Nicola a bit of a bonus in their pay packet this week. They’d worked really hard for her. Her unlikely team at the start of the season had really come together. She felt proud of them.

  Right, time to start the major clear-up. At least the food had been served on paper plates, so she armed herself with a couple of black sacks and set to work. Doris was upstairs, still helping Nicola sort out in the great hall.

  Ellie wiped down all the tables, blowing out all the tea lights as she went – she must remember to check all the church candles on the windowsills too. The fire was still crackling in the grate, taking the chill off the high-ceilinged ancient room, they usually left it lit, adding a big log as they left of a night – then it only needed stoking up in the morning again.

  The kitchen was all clear and she gave the floor a mop over. There’d be no teas to serve tomorrow, anyhow. The teashop would be closed. She stopped in her tracks. The thought made her feel a little odd. She’d arranged to come in with Doris and Nicola and give it a thorough disinfect for the end of the season. Actually … Doris and Nicola seemed to be taking a while; she’d go up and see if they needed help up there. She nearly collided with James on the stairs who was dashing down them.

  ‘Sorry, James, everything okay?

  ‘Need a pan and brush.’ The words came out staccato. ‘Glass broken.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Don’t worry, I’ll fetch one – is it needed in the great hall?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll take one up.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He turned and was off, dashing back up the stairwell.

  Probably just a minor breakage. Inevitable on a busy night like this. She hoped it was just a drinking glass, not some antique relic, but anything valuable was usually kept out the way of the guests and cordoned off.

  She headed back in to the kitchens for the dustpan and brush, noting the tea lights were still burning softly in the two carved-out pumpkins by the door; she’d make sure to blow them out as she came back down, better get the dustpan upstairs first in case the broken glass was dangerous.

  ‘Thanks, Ellie.’ Doris said as she spotted her, ‘It’s just a juice glass someone brought up from the teashop. I’ll clear it up, pet.’ She took the brush and started cleaning up.

  ‘Been busy up here, Nicola?’

  ‘Yep, manic. Sold out of just about everything. Bloody feet are killing me.’

  ‘Mine too. And thanks, ladies, you’ve worked really hard.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  Ellie was knackered, couldn’t wait to lie down on a cosy bed, with Batman would be nice, just to snuggle up … If he thought Catwoman was up for anything other than a cuddle tonight, unfortunately he would be disappointed.

  She was helping Nicola fold up the white tablecloths and pack down the benches when there was a weird whirring noise and then the lights all went out. Typical.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s just the resident ghost,’ chipped in Lord Henry, who’d just come back in from the garden. ‘It’ll probably come back on in a minute.’

  To be fair, it was nothing too unusual for the castle; the electrics were ancient like the rest of the place. Joe had been on about getting a proper overhaul done of the electrics during the winter months – more expense.

  ‘Anyone got a torch?’ Ellie ventured.

  ‘Where’s Joe? He had one. Got the one from Deana’s office earlier,’ Lord Henry stated.

  ‘Probably outside somewhere checking the grounds and finishing off with the display team,’ Colin’s voice announced in the dark; he’d been helping outside too, ‘I’ll go and take a look at the main fuse box. Something might have tripped.’

  There was a thin beam of light; James, carrying a small torch. And with that, he and Colin walked off. The great hall returned to darkness.

  ‘We might as well go outside,’ suggested Ellie.

  There was a beam of moonlight illuminating the French doors that led to the garden.

  ‘Okay, can’t do much in here for now,’ Doris agreed, heading for the doors. ‘What’s that dreadful smell?’ Doris was the first out.

  There was a strong tang of smoke in the air, perhaps just the leftover acridity of the fireworks, but they hadn’t had a bonfire and it was more of a smoky wood smell.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Malcolm and Derek, who’d been helping Deana in the office just before, came shouting, running around the side of the building. ‘Get everyone out! The tearooms are on fire. We’ve got Deana to call the fire brigade. They’re on their way.’

  Oh my God!Her lovely teashop. Ellie’s heart did a flip. Oh no, had she left anything on in the ovens? On the stove? She was sure she’d turned it all off ages ago … Oh shit, she’d left those tea lights on, in the two pumpkins. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  Was everyone here? What about Joe? Where was Joe? She wasn’t sure if she’d said it aloud or not.

  A rising panic swirled in her gut. She hadn’t seen him in ages.

  Torchlight flashing across the garden flagstones. James appeared with Deana. ‘The fire brigade are on their way. Is everyone alright? Is everyone accounted for?’ Deana’s voice was heavy with concern.

  ‘Joe. Where’s Joe?’ Ellie’s raised voice was tight in her throat.

  ‘I saw him, Ellie,’ James blurted out, ‘Just after I seen you. I said you’d gone to the tearooms to get the pan and brush.’

  She began to feel dizzy. Chink by chink, her world was falling apart. She found herself running back into the hall, the quickest way to the teashop, her eyes adjusting to the dark, bumping into table corners, knocking over a chair. Deana’s voice was harsh behind her. ‘Ellie. NO!’

  She kept going. She had to get to him. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t going to happen.

  As she reached the stairs leading down, her eyes began to sting. The smoke rasped in her throat as she shouted his name, ‘Joe … Joe.’

  * * *

  Joe – five minutes before

  ‘James, have you seen Ellie?’ Joe tried to stay calm. Think rationally. She was probably fine. Deana was ringing the fire brigade right now. The automatic alert should have gone through to them too. If he hadn’t thought it was just the smell from the fireworks they might have acted quicker. Dammit.

  ‘Yes, she was getting me a pan and brush.’

  ‘Where? Where was she getting it from, James? It’s important.’

  ‘Umn. The teashop.’

  ‘Have you seen her since?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Fuck … Sorry, James, I’m not angry with you. Okay, take this torch,’ he handed the lad the small flashlight he had with him. ‘Now go and find the others upstairs. Stay with them and all go outside. Don’t come back down. Don’t let anyone else come down. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  Please God, don’t let her be in there. But he’d have to check. The fire brigade could be some time yet. He hadn’t even heard any sirens. He tried the light switches in the passageway outside the tearooms. Nothing. Shit. He wished he hadn’t given away his torch now. He felt his way down the wall, the smoke making it even darker. The wood panels of the teashop door were warm to touch. The smoke gushed out at him as he opened it.

  Get low. Something triggered in his brain. Stay low. Cover your mouth. He took off the Batman cloak, used it to wrap around his face, covering his nose and mouth. It made it tricky to breathe through, but seemed better than the smoke. Staying low he ran in, calling her name.

  ‘Ellie. ELLIE? You in here?’ Two pumpkins glowed menacingly each side of the door. No reply. Just an odd crackly noise from the kitchen, the smoke seemed thicker from there. He headed for it.

  ‘ELLIE?’

  Keep going. If she was here he would find h
er. His eyes were streaming now; between his tears and the smoky murk he could hardly see a thing. The air was bitter, acrid in his lungs. Stay low, he reminded himself, pushing through the swing door. Licks of flames danced from the back wall of the kitchen.

  He would find her. He was on his knees now. On the kitchen floor. It was damp down there, smelled of smoke and disinfectant. He reached his arms out, feeling ahead of him. She might have fallen, been overcome by the fumes. He thought of her beautiful sunny smile, the feel of her skin under his fingertips, making love to her last night. If she was here he would find her. They’d get out. Together. He bumped his forehead on the metal leg of a work surface. It was hot. Seared his skin. Then the solid coolness of stone against his outstretched palm. So, he must have reached the far wall. No sign of her. She couldn’t have been here, then. Thank God.

  The wall, the work surface, the shelf. Nanna’s book. It’d be there just above him on the shelf. He might be able to reach it. Might be able to save it for her. Held his breath, reached up, felt along the shelf. Squinted to try and see, but his eyes stung and streamed. He knocked down a plastic bowl. His chest felt tight. He’d really better get out of there. Felt again, just in case. She loved that book. Yes, that felt like it, a hard cover. Grasped it. He needed to get out. Crouched low. Gasped for breath. But the smoke was curling within him now, squeezing his lungs, stealing their air. Crawling back. Keep going, keep going. Not far from the swing door now. It’d be better the other side of that. No air. Everything in his chest tight, strangling.

  Everything seemed too hard. To move. To breathe. Wasn’t sure if he could make it back now … If he just lay a while …

  * * *

  Ellie

  They were holding her back. Strong arms tight on her wrists.

  ‘You can’t go in there, miss. Come away. We’re dealing with it …’

  She could see flickers of flames at the windows. In front of her, the glass popped out from a black-leaded pane.

  She clung to the chance that he wasn’t in there. Yet somehow she knew in her soul that he was.

  Someone was leading her out of the courtyard, back to the others gathered outside the front of the castle now. Blue flashing lights. Sirens. Lord Henry pacing up and down, his Dracula cloak splaying out as he marched. It was all surreal and yet too real.

  And then through the main castle doors they were bringing out a stretcher. She ran forward, the grasp on her wrists loosened. ‘Joe … Joe.’

  Saw the floppy dark fringe, his beautiful face so pale. His body there laid out on the stretcher.

  Her legs went wobbly.

  ‘Let’s get some oxygen here.’ A voice shouted. Someone pushed past her in uniform, placing a mask over Joe’s mouth.

  Ellie registered that he didn’t look burned, thank God, just a mark on his forehead. But then smoke could be more dangerous. He wasn’t moving. Eyes closed.

  Lord Henry came up next to her. ‘Joe … Are you alright, Joe?… What’s going on?’ he addressed the fireman carrying the stretcher. ‘Is he going to be alright?’

  ‘We don’t know yet, sir. Can we just have a bit of space to do our job.’

  ‘Of course … certainly.’

  Ellie and Lord Henry stepped back. Staring. Silent.

  Joe was holding something. Ellie saw that now. A book. Why was he holding a book?

  Please, dear God. Please, dear God. Please, dear God. Ellie was chanting a silent prayer.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said yous was down there.’ James was next to her, crying fat, snotty tears.

  ‘It’s not your fault, James.’ If it was anyone’s fault it was probably hers, with those tealights she’d left on. It would have only taken a second or two to blow them out. Ellie felt her own eyes fill. The horrid ache of tears coming in her throat. Yet no tears dropped.

  Then Joe’s body shuddered, he spluttered. He was struggling against the mask. His hand was lifting to try and get it off his face.

  Oh, thank God.

  ‘He’s regaining consciousness. We need to get him checked out, though. Let’s get him to hospital ASAP.’ The paramedics began to load Joe into the back of the waiting ambulance. Ellie didn’t want to leave him and began to follow the stretcher.

  ‘Only family in the ambulance, miss.’

  ‘Oh.’ But she wanted to crawl in there, cradle him in her arms.

  She had to stand back.

  She’d drive, then. She’d follow them.

  Doris stepped forward, ‘I’ll drive you, Ellie. You’re probably in a bit of shock, pet. My keys are handy,’ Doris pulled them from her pocket, ‘And the car’s just along the driveway there.’

  A booming voice filled the forecourt, the tone both anxious and proud, ‘WAIT … I’m coming in the ambulance … He’s my son.’ Lord Henry, with his Dracula cloak flapping, clambered into the back of the vehicle.

  Doris’s mouth dropped open and a murmur of surprise buzzed around the castle staff.

  Waiting in A & E on orange plastic chairs. Why was it taking so long? They’d been here for an hour or more already, the lady in reception knew they were waiting for news on Joe, and yet there’d been no sign of Lord Henry or a nurse or anything.

  And Ellie’s mind was doing nasty things. What if there had been permanent damage to his lungs? And how long had he been unconscious? Was there was a risk of brain damage with that? All sorts of things could be happening there behind those swing doors … And there was this nagging doubt that it might be her fault. Had she really turned everything off in the kitchen and what about those tea lights still burning in the pumpkins?

  ‘I’ll go fetch a cup of tea.’ Doris stood up. They’d already toyed with one cup – milky-grey fluid in a polystyrene cup. Ellie didn’t really want any more, but she knew Doris just wanted something to do, and it might pass the next five minutes.

  Doris was on her way back when the double doors swung open to reveal Lord Henry in his black cloak.

  Ellie was on her feet, ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘He seems to be. Thank heavens. He’s asking for you.’

  Relief swept over her like the warmth of sunshine. Thank You God.

  A couple of children and a woman were staring at Lord Henry, and an old man across the way looked bemused.

  ‘What the devil are they gawping at?’ he said loudly, sounding disgruntled.

  ‘Well, you are still wearing a Dracula outfit and there’s fake blood all around your mouth,’ Doris pointed out.

  ‘Ah.’ He looked down. ‘So I am. So I am.’ He sat down. ‘He’s in a bay to the left just through there.’

  Ellie couldn’t wait to get to him. ‘Third on the left,’ she heard Lord Henry’s booming voice as she stepped through the double doors.

  She counted the curtained booths, one, two, three. Pulled the curtain cautiously on the third. She must have got it wrong. This one was empty.

  ‘Joe?’ Her voice a question. She didn’t feel it appropriate to shout along the A & E section, though part of her wanted to boom his name. Find him. Hold him.

  No answer.

  Then she spotted it there on the bedside table – a singed hardback book, its cover browned like tobacco stains, some letters still legible, ‘B-e-r …’ And below it, folded neatly, a black lycra-style suit. The bed was empty. She picked up the book, turned the first few pages, and saw Nanna’s handwriting. He’d only gone and saved it for her. Big blobs of her fat tears stained the already singed pages.

  Where was he? Had something just happened? Had he been dashed off to Resusc? She knew these things happened, had been a fan of Casualty over the years. What if he’d died, bumph just like that? A split second. Taken away from her? Oh Jesus, no.

  A big knot formed in her throat. Fat drips continued to plop down onto the Be-Ro book. She’d better find a nurse. See what was happening.

  ‘Hi.’ His voice. It was his voice. Or was she just imagining it? Behind her.

  Turned to see him loping along towards her in a hospital gown.

  �
�Oh shit, Joe. Don’t you ever do that to me again.’

  ‘What are you going on about? I’ve just been for a pee.’

  She nearly launched the Be-Ro book at him. ‘I thought you were dead’. She hardly dared speak the words.

  ‘Well, sorry for upsetting you and being alive.’

  Her body seemed to sink, she needed a chair. He got back into the bed, as she slumped down on the plastic chair next to it in the cubicle. She lay the book back on the side.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked, as she came round to the fact he’d just been to the loo. The guilt was heavy on her voice. Remembering her fears of the tea lights, the kitchen equipment.

  ‘Think so.’ His voice had a rasp to it. ‘Bit tired.’

  ‘No wonder.’

  ‘What do the doctors say?’

  ‘Some smoke inhalation … keeping me in overnight.’

  She found herself shaking, ‘Joe … I’m sorry.’ She was crying now. The tears hot and heavy. It might have been so much worse.

  ‘It’s not your fault.’ He lifted a hand to her cheek.

  ‘I left the pumpkins burning.’

  ‘I know. I saw them …’

  ‘Oh shite. It was my fault, then.’

  ‘No … no … they were lit, they helped me see … they weren’t on fire.’ He paused. ‘Can you get me some water … my throat.’

  There was a jug on the side table. She poured out a plastic cup. Took it to his lips, which were dry and chapped. She wanted to kiss him there. But instead placed a tender kiss on his cheek once he had taken a sip.

  ‘The fire,’ he continued, ‘It seemed to be along the back wall by the dishwasher. Might have been the wiring or something.’

  ‘Are you sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?’

  ‘Sure …’ He seemed tired. She rested her hand over his. They both sat quiet for a while.

  Then he saw the book there on the side. ‘Oh, yes, I found this.’ He passed it to her.

  ‘Nanna’s book, I saw it a minute ago. Wow. Thank you so much.’ Her voice lifted, then dropped, ‘You didn’t go in looking for Nanna’s book, did you? You could have killed yourself!’