by Lesley Eames
Lily and Phyllis both worked in the downstairs shop when the bakery opened on the understanding that Lily would staff the tea room as soon as any customers headed up there. Within five minutes of opening a man came in. Slouching and down at heel, he looked at the three tables in the shop then slid his gaze to the open door to the now-cleared staircase that led upstairs. ‘More tables?’ he grunted.
‘Lots more.’ Smiling a welcome, Lily led him upstairs. ‘Where would you like to—’
‘Tea and buttered roll,’ he said, walking to a table and opening his newspaper. ‘Don’t fob me off with margarine.’
The tea room looked beautiful, even if Lily said so herself. The walls were white and so were the tables and chairs, but there was colour in the chair cushions and curtains, and in the Michaelmas daisies that stood in small china vases on the tables. More flowers stood on the dresser alongside patterned china plates and books. It was a fresh and deliciously pretty room but its charms were lost on this man.
For a moment Lily felt alarmed as well as disappointed. Had she made a catastrophic error of judgement about the café? It would be terrible if—
Her ears picked up the sound of female voices and footsteps on the stairs. Four middle-aged women came in and stood looking around. ‘Well, isn’t this nice?’ one of them asked, to murmurs of agreement from the others.
Alarm receding, Lily showed them to a table and took their order for tea. ‘Those cakes do look tempting!’ one of the women said, gazing hungrily towards the cakes which Lily had displayed on glass-domed stands on the dresser.
The women added cakes to their order, despite the earliness of the hour.
More customers made their way upstairs and soon Lily found herself rushed off her feet. At two o’clock Mr Bax took over the shop so Phyllis could take a break, then Phyllis came up to the tea room so Lily could snatch something to eat.
As soon as they closed for the day Lily put the kettle on so they could put their feet up over a cup of tea before tackling the cleaning and preparation for the next day’s business. ‘It was wonderful to have so many customers but it may have been curiosity that brought some of them in. We can’t expect every day to be as busy,’ Lily said cautiously.
But the rest of the week was just as busy. ‘First weeks have novelty value, though,’ Lily suggested. ‘Next week will give us a better idea of what our regular custom is likely to look like.’
She’d been putting tips into a small bowl. Counting them out, she was pleased to see that they added up to almost seven shillings. She divided them into three equal piles but Mr Bax refused to take a share. ‘You girls have earned the tips,’ he insisted.
‘Why don’t we save the tips for our futures?’ Lily asked Phyllis.
‘Good idea.’
‘On second thoughts, why don’t we save the first five shillings each week and spend anything left over on treating Elsie to an occasional outing?’
‘That’s an even better idea.’
By the end of the first month it was clear that the café was set fair to be successful though they’d had to make adjustments with regard to the sugar, as it was in such short supply. Lily had noticed a customer sneaking sugar cubes into a handkerchief so she could take them home. After that, they served only loose sugar and removed the bowls from the tables quickly.
With only three of them running the kitchen, shop and café the workload was heavy but Lily was thrilled by the compliments they received from customers.
‘Charming…’
‘Delightful…
And even, ‘Good grub at decent prices.’
Lily and Phyllis took Elsie to see a variety show and they made their way back singing one of the songs. ‘You’ll never see me frown, when I’m in London Town….’
Beatrice and Betty Bax came to try the tea room and declared it to be delightful, promising to return weekly if they could. With Mr Bax’s Michaelmas daisies over for the season, Lily had given the tea room an autumnal feel, using gold, copper and bronze foliage from Mr Bax’s garden, and placing vegetables among the leaves – scrubbed carrots, turnips and little pumpkins.
When December came she chose a Christmas theme instead. Mr Bax’s neighbours had holly trees – one with dark leaves and another with leaves of pale green and cream. They were happy to donate sprays of both sorts. Lily arranged them with trailing ivy and sprigs of fir, adding red baubles and gold bows here and there. She was thrilled with how pretty the tea room looked.
One day in early December a For Sale board went up outside the Sollifords’ shop next door. ‘I heard they just didn’t have the heart to continue after losing their son,’ a customer remarked.
Lily pitied them and hoped they’d find peace eventually. No one seemed to know whether the shop would continue to sell haberdashery or something else. Whatever it sold, Lily hoped it would attract customers to the street.
Another thought struck her. The new owner might have an opening for Elsie. If she couldn’t be employed in the tea room or bakery, the next best thing would be to have her working next door. Mr Bax might even let her move into the bakery attic. He was fond of Elsie and if she could pay him a little rent…
Lily decided to keep her thoughts to herself for the moment, not wanting to raise Elsie’s hopes only to have them dashed if the buyer had no need of help.
After setting up the tea room early one morning she paused to look out of the window. It was frosty outside and people were scurrying to work hunched under hats and with thick scarves around their necks. It was the sort of day when hot food should sell well – soup and the new dishes they’d introduced including winter vegetable tart, spicy sausage tart and baked potatoes. Lily was keen to keep the bill of fare interesting while keeping costs low and adapting to the shortage of good quality flour as well as sugar. At least there were fewer food queues these days, even if people were being urged to eat sparingly and waste nothing.
Turning away, she was surprised to see that a customer – a man in his twenties – had already come upstairs and was standing in the doorway. Embarrassment at being caught daydreaming made Lily’s face grow warm.
‘Good morning. You’re our first customer so all tables are free as you can see,’ she said, aiming to sound pleasantly efficient, but a glint of amusement in the man’s eyes suggested he’d noticed her blush. Frustratingly, that made it harder for her to conquer it.
‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling.
Moving forward, he headed for a table near the window, putting his gloves down and taking off his coat. He looked around, noticed a coat stand and raised an eyebrow. ‘May I?’
He was tall and well-built with glossy, near-black hair and blue eyes. Dark blue eyes that still glinted with humour.
‘Certainly.’
He hung his coat up, returned to the table and sat down.
His jacket was blue too – an unusual royal blue – and he wore a loose red cravat in place of a tie. Not that there was anything of the dandy about him. Both jacket and cravat looked soft with age, as though he wore them only for comfort.
Lily let him settle as she brought scones from the serving room and placed them on the dresser but he didn’t pick up the menu card. Assuming he must want only a warming drink, she took her notepad and pencil from her apron and went over. ‘Are you ready to order, sir?’ That was better. She sounded truly polite and professional now.
‘Do you serve chocolate?’ he asked. ‘To drink?’
‘I’m afraid not. But we have coffee if you’d prefer it to tea?’
‘I would. And might I have one of those scones? They look very English.’
Did that mean he wasn’t English? He spoke the language like a native but if he were living abroad it would explain why he wasn’t away at the war. On the other hand, he might simply be home on leave and craving a reminder of the country for which he was fighting.
Lily wrote the order down and moved away to fulfil it.
He thanked her when she returned with his coffee and scone. ‘L
ily’s Tea Room is new, is it not?’ he asked.
‘Fairly.’
‘Lily isn’t the baker I saw downstairs,’ he guessed.
‘I’m Lily,’ she said, and he nodded as though her answer confirmed his expectations.
‘Business is brisk?’
Lily looked around the empty room. ‘It’s early still, but I expect—’ She broke off, pleased to hear footsteps on the stairs. She wouldn’t have liked him to think she was presiding over a failing enterprise.
‘I mustn’t keep you,’ he said.
Soon there were customers sitting at several tables. Lily was kept busy but not too busy to be aware that, while he spent some time looking out at the street, at other times he watched her. Did he always have that gleam in his eyes?
He seemed to be in no hurry to leave. ‘Might I trouble you for more coffee?’ he asked, as she cleared the table next to his.
‘Certainly.’
She fetched it quickly.
‘This is a good situation for a business,’ he commented. ‘The street outside is busy.’
‘The shops here are excellent.’
‘So each shop draws customers to the others?’
‘I think so.’
More customers were arriving. Others were leaving. Lily sent the man a rueful smile and went about her day, glad of the slenderness and lightness of foot that meant she could glide easily between tables and chairs.
‘My bill?’ he requested, a few minutes later.
Lily gave it to him, took his money and counted his change, realising it would embarrass her if he left a tip but not quite understanding why.
‘I’ve enjoyed my time in Lily’s Tea Room,’ he said.
‘I’m glad,’ Lily told him, aware of more warmth gathering in her cheeks.
‘Excuse me!’ another customer called.
The blue-eyed man nodded to show he understood she was working and Lily went to take an order for more cake.
By the time she’d served it he’d gone. Clearing his table, she took a moment to look through the window. He was on the street outside, taller than most men and more upright too. She watched him cross the road then turn and look up. Was he looking up at the window where Lily stood?
Not wanting to be caught staring, she darted back. Only when she thought he must surely have gone did she move forward again and glance tentatively out of the window. Yes, he’d gone. She finished clearing the table and discovered a thruppeny tip under his saucer. For a moment she hesitated to pick it up. But it was only a tip and would come in useful for Elsie’s next treat.
She had little leisure for daydreaming about blue-eyed strangers through the rest of the day but his visit had taught her that she wasn’t as indifferent to all men as she’d thought. Not that it mattered. The stranger had gone and Lily had a business to run.
*
‘You’ve grown even taller,’ Lily observed when Artie returned for Christmas. There was even a small moustache on his upper lip. Lily was tempted to tease him about it but decided to wait until she was sure it wouldn’t make him feel self-conscious. After all, he was almost a grown man now.
She took him for his first look at the tea room now it was up and running. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, wanting very much for him to be proud of her achievement, modest as it was.
‘It looks very nice, Lil, but I hope it doesn’t mean you’re working harder than ever.’
‘I enjoy working.’
Just then Elsie arrived and all was bustle. The girls cooked a meal for Artie that first night and he was as charming as ever though she guessed that being surrounded by evidence of her hard work reinforced his guilt over the fact that she needed to earn her own bread while his was provided for him.
Not wanting him to feel any guilt at all, Lily spoke about how women across the country were working hard to keep things going at home. Phyllis needed no prompting to tell him how women were driving ambulances, issuing tickets on omnibuses and working in munitions factories where the smallest lapse of concentration could result in loss of life or limb. They’d served such women in the tea rooms and admired the chirpy attitude of the Canary Girls as they were called because their fingers, faces and hair were stained yellow from contact with chemicals.
‘Obviously we want votes for women as much as ever,’ Phyllis said, ‘but campaigning is taking second place to the war just now.’
Artie smiled. ‘I know women are every bit as clever as men, Phyll. How could I not know when I have a sister who’s still much cleverer than me despite all my years at school?’
Lily didn’t feel cleverer anymore. Probably Artie was just being kind.
‘I wish I could join you for Christmas dinner but I’ll be dining with Mr Alderton,’ Artie told them. ‘I can see you afterwards, though.’
‘Come for the evening,’ Lily urged. ‘We’re planning a jolly time.’
Mr Bax was cooking a turkey and bringing his sisters over in a taxi to join in the feast. The Tibbs sisters were coming too and staying in a guest house nearby. Elsie had to work during the day but, like Artie, she’d come in the evening.
It was lovely to have everyone together. The turkey was a delicious treat and Mr Bax ensured that everyone found a silver sixpence in their portion of Christmas pudding. There was sherry to drink, games to play and small but thoughtful gifts to be exchanged.
Lily hugged the happiness close but sadness picked at its edges. Both Hilda and Marion were ageing rapidly. Beatrice and Betty Bax were getting no younger and even Mr Bax’s jowls were hanging low in the candlelight.
In unguarded moments Lily saw Artie’s smile faltering too and no wonder. In another week it would be 1917. Artie would turn eighteen in May and unless peace came he’d be required to fight.
TWENTY-ONE
‘Good morning.’
Lily was clearing a table but turned at the sound of a voice. The man with the blue eyes was back, tiny drops of January drizzle sparkling in his black hair. She was clearing a table and hoped he’d attribute the sudden warmth in her cheeks to exertion rather than…
What? Pleasure, certainly, but mixed with self-consciousness. ‘If you’d like to sit down, I’ll take your order shortly,’ she said, seeking refuge in brisk efficiency again.
‘Thank you, Lily.’
He’d remembered her name! Lily felt a moment’s delight followed by foolishness. Of course he’d remembered it. The tea room was named after her.
She took the tray into the serving room then returned, armed with pencil and pad.
‘Still no chocolate?’ he asked.
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Then I’ll have coffee with…’ He turned to look at the display on the dresser. ‘A slice of fruitcake, please. And a happy New Year to you, Lily.’
‘Thank you. To you as well.’
She escaped to the kitchen before she blushed again.
‘Business is prospering still?’ he asked on her return.
‘We’re not complaining.’ The tea room was busy for mid-morning.
More customers arrived and Lily excused herself to serve them but she caught him watching her now and then. Each time he sent her a smile.
Eventually he glanced at his watch in a way that suggested he had an appointment to keep. He paid his bill then shrugged into his coat and walked to the door. ‘You have a serving room through there, I suppose?’ he asked, nodding towards it.
‘We do.’
‘For a moment I thought you were appearing and disappearing like a fairy.’
He was teasing her and, despite coping with all sorts of customers from flirts to dragons, Lily didn’t know how to respond.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and, smiling, he set off downstairs. Lily was too busy to see if he looked up at the window, but when she finally cleared his table she found another thrupenny tip.
She’d thought he might be simply passing through the area the first time he’d come but this second visit made her wonder if he lived or worked nearby. It also made
her wonder if he’d return another day. It was strange how one man’s smile could affect her so differently from the smiles of other men.
But perhaps he smiled at all young women. Lily had no intention of becoming the sort of fool who daydreamed her life away. She had too much to keep her occupied in the real world.
She wasn’t doing war work exactly but she still felt useful. Providing food and drink helped people to go about their daily business, whether that involved a job or looking after home and family. Providing nice food and drink helped to keep people cheerful in difficult times. And providing somewhere to sit helped people to rest, see friendly faces and talk with friends. Sometimes important news was shared and arrangements made for helping friends and neighbours.
Lily was particularly pleased when young men from the army, navy and even the Royal Flying Corps came in. How exhausted some of them looked! How strained around the eyes! She was glad to provide a haven where they could sit quietly to gather their thoughts and ease their tired bodies.
Artie wrote to say that, despite the appalling losses in last year’s Somme campaign, there was cause for optimism about what this year might bring. Lily prayed he was right and hoped he was managing his nerves at the prospect of joining the fighting.
He wasn’t the only young man to be worried. One day Lily served two women who were talking about the RA-BA-SA salts one of them had bought to send to her son. ‘They’re for shell shock and trench nerve,’ she explained. ‘Five shillings and ninepence, but worth the money if they help Percy. They go in the bath and there’s enough salts in the box for seven baths. I only hope Percy can manage to keep his baths private because he doesn’t want anyone else to know how he’s feeling.’
The café had been open for three months and Mr Bax gave no sign of regretting his decision to let it go ahead. Quite the contrary, in fact. ‘You’ve breathed new life into the place, Lily,’ he told her one morning. ‘It’s hard work running a café as well as a bakery but I’m actually enjoying it.’
Lily was delighted to know that her venture was giving him pleasure. It was earning money too. Not a fortune, and not yet enough to employ Elsie, but the signs were promising.