The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts. Jennifer JoyceЧитать онлайн книгу.
we ready?’ Mags asks, hand on the door handle. I nod, nerves rendering me speechless, and she swings open the door, propping it open with an unopened bag of plain flour. We hold our breaths and wait.
And wait some more.
Nobody is here, eager to join our party and sample our baked goods.
‘It is only just gone twelve,’ Dad points out, giving my shoulder a pat. ‘The teashop will be packed in no time, just wait and see.’
So we wait some more and still nobody arrives.
‘I don’t understand it,’ Nicky says when one o’clock arrives and not one new foot has stepped over the threshold. ‘I’d do almost anything for a freebie.’ She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight. ‘I’m really sorry but we’re going to have to go. I’ll try and pop back later, okay?’
‘I’ll save you some cake,’ I joke weakly but neither of us laughs.
Nicky and her junior stylist leave but are quickly replaced by Zoe from the craft shop, and Marjorie returns from the florist’s as promised. It’s nice to see them and I’m grateful they’ve turned up in support (as well as for the freebies) but I’d hoped to see some new faces too. To make matters worse, I spot George from the letting agency scuttling past with coffees and paper bags of treats from town. It seems I can’t even entice my neighbours into the teashop with the offer of free cakes.
Plonking myself down at one of the tables, I drop my face into my hands. I’m so embarrassed. Here we all are, trussed up in flowers and cocktail umbrellas, the teashop decked out for a party, and nobody wants to join in. I’ve spent a chunk of my savings on advertising and Victoria, Mags and I have traipsed around town for hours spreading the word. And not only that, my loved ones are witnessing my rejection.
‘It is raining,’ Mags says gently as she sits down next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. ‘People would rather stay at home when the weather’s bad, even if there is the prospect of cake.’
‘But look.’ I lift my head so I can gaze around the room. ‘Everyone here has come as a favour to me. There’s not one person who’s braved a bit of rain for free cake.’
‘I’m pretty sure that’s all Marjorie came for,’ Mags mutters.
I drop my face back into my hands, but just when I’m losing all hope and considering seriously drowning my sorrows with a whole basket of mini muffins (and that vodka and Coke I’d craved earlier), Birdie steps into the teashop with a younger man and a little girl. I’m so happy to see them, I practically jump on Birdie, throwing my arms around her while she introduces her family.
‘This is Caleb, my grandson.’ Birdie’s eyes twinkle as she gazes up at the tall man beside her. He’s looking slightly dishevelled with the beginnings of dark stubble on his face and his hair looks as though he’s recently run his hands through it and forgotten to smooth it back down again. But his whole face lights up when he smiles, flashing white, even teeth and bright blue eyes. My stomach does something vaguely familiar but most unwelcome. I do not fancy this guy.
I. Do. Not.
‘And this is Cara, my great-granddaughter.’ Birdie brushes a hand over the little girl’s brown hair. With her blue eyes, she looks just like her father. Who I do not fancy. Not even a little bit.
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ I say as Mags arrives with a bunch of garlands and drapes them over the heads of the newcomers. ‘Help yourself to the cakes.’ I indicate the barely touched trays and baskets on the counter. ‘And there’s also face-painting if you’d like.’ I turn to Victoria, who’s so bored she’s taken to painting flowers on her bare arms.
‘Is that just for the kids or can anyone have a turn?’ Caleb asks and I blush. I have no idea why.
‘I’m sure Victoria would be more than happy to paint you.’ I’m quite confident about this as she’s quickly running out of space on herself.
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Caleb says over his shoulder as he’s suddenly tugged away and towed towards the cakes by an eager Cara. I turn away, determined not to check out his bum.
‘Thank you for coming,’ I say to Birdie, hugging her again. I’m probably overstepping some customer boundaries here but I’m so grateful to see a new face in the teashop.
Birdie pats my back. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it, dear.’ She holds me out at arm’s length and the twinkle is back in her eyes. ‘Please tell me there’s apple crumble.’
‘There is.’ I guide Birdie towards the counter, where Cara is checking out the array of cakes with wide eyes. ‘Hopefully Dad hasn’t eaten them all.’
‘I heard that,’ Dad says, making me jump, as I didn’t realise he was hovering behind us. ‘Let me serve this young lady.’ Dad slips in between me and Birdie, his hand resting on her back as he guides her towards the tray of apple crumble dishes. I’m shocked. Who knew Dad was a charmer? He turns to me to wink, ruining the effect by saying, ‘I need a top-up anyway.’
We see a few more new faces over the course of the afternoon, but not nearly as many as I was hoping for. Marjorie has her fill of cake (they’re only tiny, so they don’t really count towards her daily calorie intake, apparently) and returns to the florist’s, being quickly replaced by Robbie and Annette. Zoe and Imogen from Paper Roses change places and Nicky returns in between clients.
‘He’s cute,’ she whispers before popping a bite-sized flapjack into her mouth. Although Nathan has stayed behind with Victoria, the rest of the band have filtered away so Nicky has set her sights on Birdie’s grandson instead of baby-faced Tom. ‘But not my type. Maybe yours?’
I choke on the mini homemade jammy dodger I’ve been eating, coughing damp biscuit crumbs into my hand. ‘I don’t think so,’ I wheeze. ‘Besides, I didn’t think you had a type.’ Although Nicky has become a very close friend of mine over the past year, I have to admit that she isn’t fussy when it comes to the men she dates. It’s probably why she ends up with so many bad eggs.
‘Come on,’ Nicky coaxes, nudging me gently. ‘You have to admit he’s pretty cute.’
I will do no such thing.
I won’t even look at him.
I was gobsmacked when Joel proposed over dinner one night, quietly so that the other diners weren’t alerted, as he knew I’d be mortified at the attention of so many eyes on me. We’d been together for four and a half years, had lived together for two of those and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
Joel was everything I ever wanted in a partner: loyal, attentive, fun and caring in equal measures. Joel had been by my side as I visited Gran in the hospital, had cried with me when she passed away. He’d propped me up during the funeral and allowed me to grieve in my own time. I felt completely at ease with Joel. I felt safe and secure. Invincible. And yet it came as a complete shock as he slid the little velvet box across the table towards me, his eyes shining as he asked me to marry him.
Of course I said yes. I couldn’t imagine anything I wanted more than to marry the man I loved. Everyone was thrilled for us and I began planning the wedding with Mum and Penny, agonising over the tiniest details.
‘I just want the day to be perfect,’ I told Penny when she pointed out that it didn’t really matter whether we had gold or silver table confetti. No matter how excited Penny was about my upcoming wedding, she didn’t quite get it. Penny had no real desire to get married. She was happy as she was, flirting with random guys in bars and clubs, hooked on the buzz of heading out for first dates. She’d had relationships, but nothing serious and none that lasted more than a couple of months. She’d grown tired of Jack by their third night together and now he was nothing but a distant memory of a conquest from a long-ago job she’d hated.