Page 21 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
‘I’m going upmarket and we’ll reopen as a premier afternoon tearoom.’
Her hand, which had been in the process of dunking a gingernut into her tea, stilled as she stared doubtfully at me. ‘You mean, like Betty’s of Harrogate, where I used to work?’
Then she noticed that the soggy bottom of her biscuit had fallen off. ‘Oh, bugger! I hate it when there’s a gritty silt on the bottom of the cup.’
‘Not really like Betty’s, I’m thinking more Framling’s Famous Tearoom,’ I explained.
‘What, that posh place in London? No one here will pay those prices!’
‘I know, but it has the kind of ambience I’m aiming for – and the concept, too: we’d only serve full afternoon teas. We wouldn’t be a regular café, which are two a penny round here.’
‘They are, that’s true enough,’ she said, ruminating. Then she looked up and said, ‘The Harry Ramsden’s fish and chip restaurant had got chandeliers and posh tablecloths when I went over there once with our Daisy, and folks do seem keen to part with their brass when it comes to fancy eating.’
‘Yes, they’ll pay for something special and that’s what we’d have to provide – starched white tablecloths and napkins, tiered cake stands and fine china. And the cakes and sandwiches would have to be excellent too, of course, with some proper Yorkshire treats.’
The ideas were simply pouring out of me now I’d opened the sluice gate. ‘We’d have two sittings every afternoon – say at two and four – so that customers could take their time. Everything would be made or baked on the premises and we’d even provide little boxes for those who wanted to take home any leftover cakes and sandwiches.’
‘Who’d be doing all the baking, then?’
‘Mostly me – I’m great at cakes and pastries,’ I said immodestly but truthfully. ‘I’d buy the bread in for the sandwiches, though, so I’d need a good supplier.’
‘The Copper Kettle was a genteel kind of place and pricier than the other cafés at the time,’ Tilda said, ‘and that did all right, according to our Nell. So your tearoom might just work … but would you get enough customers through the door to make it pay, that’s the question?’
‘I’m hoping people would soon start booking tables in advance for special occasions, but if there are tables free, anyone passing by could come in and have afternoon tea.’
A thought struck her. ‘But if it’s going to be that posh and upmarket, would you stillwantme and Nell to work here?’
‘I certainly would!’ I assured her. ‘You’d still be manageress, too, because once it’s up and running I’ll want to spend more time on my other interests.’
She didn’t ask me what those were, which was probably just as well, seeing they currently involved writing weird novels and trying to trace my birth mother.
‘I suppose we’d have to mind our p’s and q’s?’ she said doubtfully. ‘Mrs Muswell said we were notorious for being the rudest waitresses in Yorkshire, though we were only speaking our minds, like.’
‘No, I want you to carry on being your natural selves – plain-speaking Yorkshirewomen. In fact, I’ll be positivelypromotingthe idea that we have the rudest waitresses in Yorkshire and I think it will be such a draw that it’ll provide the icing on the proverbial cake.’
She seemed pleased but puzzled by this idea. ‘Really? Well, there’s nowt so queer as folk.’
She stirred the silt at the bottom of her mug with a look of disgust.
‘We’ll need better nicer china than this thick white pottery stuff,’ Isaid, adding it to one of the ever-extending lists, which I was going to put on the laptop as soon as I had time.
Tilda laid down the spoon and looked up. ‘I wonder if all the good blue and white willow-pattern china from the Copper Kettle’s still at the back of the cupboard under the stairs to the conveniences?’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it. I expect Mrs Muswell remembered it was there and sold it off with everything else she could lay her hands on,’ I said, without much hope.
‘I wish she’d sold those mobcaps and long striped dresses she made us wear to wait on,’ she said darkly. ‘A right pair of gawks we felt in those.’
I’d already noticed the limp garments hung behind the kitchen door and recognized them from the YouTube video. They hadn’t exactly been becoming.
‘You won’t have to wear them, just tie big white aprons over your ordinary clothes, instead.’ I added aprons to the list, the all-enveloping Victorian sort.
‘That’d be better. And happen Mrs M might have missed the china, seeing as it’s right at the back, behind the old vacuum cleaner I use in the basement, and she’d never think of using that,’ she said, getting up.
I followed her down the short flight of steps to the basement and she opened a large panelled cupboard underneath them. It had been painted the same dark mushroom colour as all the walls and skirting boards, so it didn’t stand out.
She pulled out an antique Hoover and then bent down, reaching far back into the depths, before dragging forth a large and tattered wicker hamper. ‘Still here – thought as much.’
There were a couple more boxes behind it and we brushed the dust off, before carrying them up into the kitchen to unpack on the large pine table.
