Page 40 of The Suitcase Swap

‘This is . . . not what I expected,’ Mike said. He was eyeing the atmosphere with a politely neutral expression on his face.

Sophie could admit that it wasn’t quite what she first thought of when she thought of teatime, but she liked new things. This just seemed like an odd assortment of things. The multicoloured tablecloths had pompoms, but also proper place settings. ‘Is it the jungle fronds? The fancy hats? The gold cutlery?’

Mike tilted his head. ‘All of it?’

Sophie laughed, causing him to smile faintly at her. He looked handsome today – he looked handsome every day, really. The shirt he was wearing brought out the green in his eyes, and the sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and a silver watch. Not a smart watch, but a regular watch. Sophie wasn’t quite sure why that was attractive to her, but it was.

‘It’s only . . .’ Mike hesitated here, once again taking in the unexpectedly tropical atmosphere of the place. ‘That I havemisgivings.’

Sophie could admit that she, too, was feeling the first faint pangs of misgivings. She considered herself to be a fairly adventurous person. She enjoyed trying new things. And yet . . .

‘I’m concerned about our order,’ she admitted.

‘It made sense at the time.’ Mike’s tone was an odd cocktail of defensive and bewildered. ‘If you want to get a sense of a place, you ask for the most popular option. The items that they’re known for.’

‘I quite agree,’ Sophie said soothingly. ‘Normally.’

‘But that was before the full impact of the place set in.’ Mike’s eyes were wide as he took in their surroundings. ‘I think I might have been in shock.’

‘Was that before or after you saw the terrarium with the live snake?’

‘There’s a live snake?’ Mike’s head whipped round, his body following. ‘I saw the caged birds. The skinny fellow with the violin. I even saw the woman with the balloon animals on her hat. I missed the live snake.’

Sophie tented her fingers and pressed them to her chin, a subconscious prayer for patience in this strange new landscape. ‘I’m wondering if you saw the menu.’

Mike blinked at her. ‘It’s tea. It might be a bit posh and a bit strange, but it’stea.Scones. Little sandwiches. PG Tips. A variation on the theme, but the theme remains.’

‘I will acknowledge,’ Sophie said, ‘that there’s a lot I don’t know about America. You’ve been here more than me, obviously, but they’re a bit notorious for, well, slaughtering a good cuppa.’

Mike dropped his face into his hands. ‘What have I done?’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ Even to Sophie’s ears, her tone sounded overly bright, like the neon flash of a false statement.

‘I once watched an American put a tea bag into a mug, add cold water andmicrowave it.’ Mike slowly dragged his fingertips down his face. ‘How could I have forgotten that?’

‘That was just one person,’ Sophie said, her own hands now fluttering about anxiously. ‘This is a restaurant. A restaurant known for tea. Obviously they’re not going to do that.’

But as the waiter returned, wheeling their order over on a cart, her doubts not only returned but increased exponentially. The man was all limbs, lanky in floral shirt and trousers. His curly red hair stood out like someone had been pulling at it and his eyes were wide as dinner plates. He unloaded their teapot, along with lemon slices, cream, orange slices and, for some reason, a small dish of cherries that were a bright, improbable red. He also set down a tiered serving tray full of small treats and then bowed, sweeping his arms out to the sides.

‘Thank you,’ Mike said.

The waiter didn’t move.

Sophie tried again. ‘Thank you?’

After a long, strange pause, the waiter straightened up with a snap. His smile was wide, but oddly fixed, as he nodded at them. Then he darted away, forgetting his cart.

‘Well,’ Sophie said slowly. ‘That was . . .’

‘Odd,’ Mike finished. ‘Decidedly odd.’ He peered at the tray, hand hovering in indecision.

A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. ‘Can’t decide what you want first?’

‘Can’t decide what anythingis,’ Mike said. ‘I think this has caviar? And there’s some kind of green . . . mousse in that one.’

She picked up one of the strange sandwiches and sniffed it. She couldn’t smell much beyond the bread, so she took a tentative bite. ‘I think it’s cucumber?’

Mike’s response was a horrified whisper. ‘What have they done to it?’

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