work its magic on them.
Chapter 18
Carla had done her shopping in the Tesco in Penistone. That way she was sure of not bumping into anyone she knew, because it was sod’s law that when you weren’t
feeling or looking your best and were in no mood to chat, you instantly fell into an orbit of people who wanted to catch up. She didn’t buy much because she wasn’t hungry at all. She
put some microwave meals, coffee, cheese and eggs, some headache tablets and a packet of multi-grain Ryvita in her trolley and added a hand of bananas to give her some energy, though she knew deep
down that they’d go black and she’d end up throwing them out.
She headed back home a different way to the one she had come for some variety and noticed that there was a new building complex on the side of Spring Hill. The last time she had been up here,
there had been a half-derelict old wire factory on the site. Now there was a stone quadrangle of half-built shops and a sign advertising the Teashop on the Corner. On a whim, she decided to
indicate right and check it out. She was really starting to hate her marital home now. She didn’t belong there; it felt cursed by Julie, so the less time she spent there the better. Having a
coffee would kill an hour at least, and give her something to think about other than the mess she was in.
The teashop was indeed on the corner, the door flanked by pots of cheerful flowers. She could guess from the outside what the inside might be like and she was right – pretty and chic and
very inviting. There was an old-fashioned counter at one end, with cakes under glass domes and –
my oh my
– the most gorgeous displays of book-related items in glass
cabinets.
An old lady was the only other customer and smiled a hello. There was a spiky-haired small woman behind the counter. Carla thought she looked like an elf, with her cheerful face and
almond-shaped eyes.
‘Please take a seat. The menus are on the table,’ she called.
It was the weirdest feeling, thought Carla as she reached for the menu. She felt the tension which had been gripping her shoulders like eagles’ talons loosen off as if it was afraid of
cake.
Molly poured out some more tea. She felt instantly better for a kind word and a few mouthfuls of scone. So much nicer than those monstrosities of confectionery that Sherry
brought with her. She would come back to this place when Margaret was on her cruise and buy something from the cabinets to chase away some boredom. It had a lovely feel to it, and the shop owner
was one of those people who had ‘laughing eyes’, as Ma Brandywine called them. You could fake a smile on the mouth, but never one in the eyes. Molly figured she must be in her
mid-thirties, from the faint lines radiating from those eyes. With her spiky brown hair and her tiny, turned-up nose, she reminded Molly of an elf. A friendly elf. And the elf’s scone and tea
had worked wonders to lift her headache away.
‘Warm today, isn’t it?’ she said to the dark-haired lady at the next table. She expected her to answer with an Italian accent, but she was a townie.
‘Very. We should be out sunbathing, not sitting in teashops.’
‘Indeed we should.’
Carla ordered a latte from Leni and a slice of the chocolate cake.
‘I’ve been to Holmfirth,’ said Molly. ‘I wouldn’t have known this place existed if I hadn’t passed it.’
‘Same here,’ said Carla. ‘I’ve just come from Penistone.’
The door tinkled and in walked Mr Singh. He seemed delighted that Leni had customers.
‘I think your discount Tuesday is working,’ he said.
Leni had heard the ladies admit that they’d driven in on a whim when passing, but nevertheless she nodded.
‘Today is Charles Dickens Tuesday,’ she told him.
‘I know. I have seen the poster in your window. I think I shall have some of that strawberry cake,’ said Mr Singh, rubbing his hands together and grinning at the two ladies.
‘It’s not strawberry cake,
Chapter 18
Carla had done her shopping in the Tesco in Penistone. That way she was sure of not bumping into anyone she knew, because it was sod’s law that when you weren’t
feeling or looking your best and were in no mood to chat, you instantly fell into an orbit of people who wanted to catch up. She didn’t buy much because she wasn’t hungry at all. She
put some microwave meals, coffee, cheese and eggs, some headache tablets and a packet of multi-grain Ryvita in her trolley and added a hand of bananas to give her some energy, though she knew deep
down that they’d go black and she’d end up throwing them out.
She headed back home a different way to the one she had come for some variety and noticed that there was a new building complex on the side of Spring Hill. The last time she had been up here,
there had been a half-derelict old wire factory on the site. Now there was a stone quadrangle of half-built shops and a sign advertising the Teashop on the Corner. On a whim, she decided to
indicate right and check it out. She was really starting to hate her marital home now. She didn’t belong there; it felt cursed by Julie, so the less time she spent there the better. Having a
coffee would kill an hour at least, and give her something to think about other than the mess she was in.
The teashop was indeed on the corner, the door flanked by pots of cheerful flowers. She could guess from the outside what the inside might be like and she was right – pretty and chic and
very inviting. There was an old-fashioned counter at one end, with cakes under glass domes and –
my oh my
– the most gorgeous displays of book-related items in glass
cabinets.
An old lady was the only other customer and smiled a hello. There was a spiky-haired small woman behind the counter. Carla thought she looked like an elf, with her cheerful face and
almond-shaped eyes.
‘Please take a seat. The menus are on the table,’ she called.
It was the weirdest feeling, thought Carla as she reached for the menu. She felt the tension which had been gripping her shoulders like eagles’ talons loosen off as if it was afraid of
cake.
Molly poured out some more tea. She felt instantly better for a kind word and a few mouthfuls of scone. So much nicer than those monstrosities of confectionery that Sherry
brought with her. She would come back to this place when Margaret was on her cruise and buy something from the cabinets to chase away some boredom. It had a lovely feel to it, and the shop owner
was one of those people who had ‘laughing eyes’, as Ma Brandywine called them. You could fake a smile on the mouth, but never one in the eyes. Molly figured she must be in her
mid-thirties, from the faint lines radiating from those eyes. With her spiky brown hair and her tiny, turned-up nose, she reminded Molly of an elf. A friendly elf. And the elf’s scone and tea
had worked wonders to lift her headache away.
‘Warm today, isn’t it?’ she said to the dark-haired lady at the next table. She expected her to answer with an Italian accent, but she was a townie.
‘Very. We should be out sunbathing, not sitting in teashops.’
‘Indeed we should.’
Carla ordered a latte from Leni and a slice of the chocolate cake.
‘I’ve been to Holmfirth,’ said Molly. ‘I wouldn’t have known this place existed if I hadn’t passed it.’
‘Same here,’ said Carla. ‘I’ve just come from Penistone.’
The door tinkled and in walked Mr Singh. He seemed delighted that Leni had customers.
‘I think your discount Tuesday is working,’ he said.
Leni had heard the ladies admit that they’d driven in on a whim when passing, but nevertheless she nodded.
‘Today is Charles Dickens Tuesday,’ she told him.
‘I know. I have seen the poster in your window. I think I shall have some of that strawberry cake,’ said Mr Singh, rubbing his hands together and grinning at the two ladies.
‘It’s not strawberry cake,
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