The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts. Jennifer JoyceЧитать онлайн книгу.
laugh. ‘Want to massage it for me?’
‘I’d rather not.’ Mags rubs her hands together. ‘What can I get you today? Cake-wise before you get any mucky ideas.’
‘Would I?’ Owen grins. ‘I’ll have a handful of those little flapjacks – not a euphemism, by the way – and a coffee.’
‘Are you eating in or out?’ Mags asks.
Owen leans his elbow on the counter. ‘I’ll eat in if you’ll join me. It’ll be our first date.’
‘I’m working,’ Mags points out. ‘So you’ll have to either take it out or date one of your buddies here.’
‘I’ll put out if you’re paying,’ Connor jokes.
‘Then I’m definitely not,’ Owen tells him before turning to Mags. ‘I’ll eat in. Alone.’
‘Take a seat; I’ll bring them over,’ Mags says before moving on to take Little Jordan’s and Connor’s orders. I make the coffees and teas while Mags transfers the cakes onto plates. The teashop always comes to life when The Builders are in. They can be boisterous but fun, and today is no exception. I’d love it if the teashop was like this all the time but I have no idea how to make that happen and it’s only a matter of time before Owen and the lads finish their job and move on. I’m dreading that day and I’m pretty sure Mags is too. Despite her protestations to the contrary, I think she rather enjoys the banter with Owen.
‘What about sponsorship?’ I say later, once The Builders have returned to their site. ‘We could sponsor a local football or rugby team. Nobody big, obviously. I’m not talking Woodgate Warriors or anything, but a pub team or something.’
‘I don’t need to check the books to know we can’t afford that,’ Mags says with a little shrug.
Money, money, money. The root of all evil – and all my problems, it seems.
‘We’ll think of something.’ Mags pulls me into a hug but I’m not sure either of us believes her. But it turns out that she’s right. We will think of something, just a few days later, and it’s an idea that is, quite literally, sitting under my nose.
Victoria practically bursts into the teashop on Friday morning and I’m surprised the door is still on its hinges with the force. She usually tries to maintain a cool, sometimes even standoffish demeanour, but this morning she’s carrying a huge smile and has a jittery, kid-at-Christmas vibe going on.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask because it’s Victoria’s day off. As much as she loves the teashop, it’s still her workplace and everybody needs a rest from that.
‘I have news and I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell you.’ Victoria clutches her hands together and gives an excited little yelp. ‘And I sort of need a favour.’
‘Spill then.’ Intrigued, I lean across the counter towards Victoria and she does the little yelp again.
‘Terry Sergeant came to see us play last night and he wants to see us at his office tomorrow.’ Victoria’s words gush out in a breathtaking rush. ‘If it goes well, he might sign us!’
There’s the yelp again, louder this time. I scuttle out from behind the counter and throw my arms around her. Not one for physical contact, Victoria allows me to hug her for three milliseconds before she squirms out of my grip.
‘That is amazing! I’m so happy for you. You deserve this.’ I give a little yelp of my own. ‘You’re going to be famous! I can’t believe I’m going to have a famous friend. Do you think you can send all the celebrities you meet this way?’
Victoria laughs. ‘Terry hasn’t signed us yet.’
‘But he will.’ I’m positive of that.
‘Then of course I’ll send all the celebrities this way. We’ll be the coolest place to hang out.’
‘We?’ I ask. ‘You’ll be hanging up your apron soon. Superstars don’t waitress in little teashops.’ I’ll be sad when the time comes as Victoria has become a good friend as well as a colleague, but I want this for her so much.
‘Speaking of hanging up my apron …’ Victoria says. ‘Do you think I could have the day off tomorrow? The meeting with Terry isn’t until late afternoon but we’d like to get in as much practice as we can beforehand, just in case he needs us to play again for him.’
‘Of course.’ I’d planned to go over to Dad’s, but he’ll understand if I put my visit off for a couple of days. ‘Do you have time for some celebratory cake? I’d have made some peanut butter blondies this morning if I’d known.’
‘An orange sponge finger will do,’ Victoria says and she sits down at the Russian-doll-patterned table while I pop three orange sponge fingers with tangy lime icing onto a plate. I call Mags out from the kitchen and pour cups of tea and coffee, taking them and the cake to the table. Victoria shares her news and Mags is as delighted as I am.
‘To our little megastar in the making,’ she says, raising her cup of tea. Victoria and I raise our own cups, though we don’t clink them as dripping scalding hot tea over your hands is hardly a celebratory move. ‘You won’t forget about us little people, will you?’
‘Of course not.’ Victoria narrows her eyes and bites her lip. ‘What was your name again?’
‘Funny.’ Mags bites into her sponge finger as the teashop door opens so I get up to greet Birdie. I already have a bag of dog biscuits in my apron pocket so I pop outside to say hello to Franklin while Mags serves Birdie’s usual apple crumble with custard. His bum starts to wiggle as soon as he sees me, his claws clattering on the pavement in his excitement as he knows he’s in for a treat.
‘Who’s a gorgeous boy?’ I coo as I scratch Franklin behind his ears. ‘Here you go.’ I hold out a biscuit and pat him on the head as he takes it between his teeth. ‘Good boy.’
I head back into the teashop and pass on the remainder of the dog biscuits before I wash my hands in the kitchen. When I step back into the teashop, I’m surprised to see Dad sitting with Birdie by the window.
‘I didn’t know you were coming in today,’ I say, stooping to kiss his cheek.
Dad winks at me. ‘I was lured by the smell of freshly baked apple crumble.’
‘I see.’ Apple crumble, eh? Or could it be another apple crumble fan has enticed him into the teashop? ‘I’ll just go and let Mags know we need two portions then.’
Leaving Dad and Birdie to chat, I rush into the kitchen, where I grab Mags while making the same excited yelping noises Victoria was emitting earlier.
‘Dad and Birdie!’ I hiss. ‘Come and look.’
Pulling Mags towards the doorway separating the teashop and kitchen, we both peer out at the pair as they chat easily across the table. I can’t quite believe Dad has struck up such a quick and easy companionship with Birdie Conrad but, now that I think about it, he barely noticed Mum at the so-called party at the weekend and spent most of his time chatting with his new friend.
‘Do you think Dad fancies Birdie?’ I whisper, which makes me giggle. I press a hand to my mouth to smother my childish reaction.
‘And why not?’ Mags asks. ‘She’s a lovely woman.’
‘She’s nothing like Mum though.’ Mum’s more refined with a sleek blonde bob and subtle make-up. She wears skirt suits, heels and silk scarfs whereas Birdie’s more robust-looking with greying brown curls and a ruddy complexion. She wears comfortable slacks, flat shoes and an anorak.
‘Have all your boyfriends been the same?’ Mags asks. There haven’t been that many, to be fair,