Page 82 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
We shared a pot of stewed tea at eleven and she admired the new ovens. ‘Space age, them are,’ she said approvingly. ‘I can feel the heat from here, too, though I can’t see anything cooking.’
‘No, you have to run them empty for at least an hour, before you bake anything.’
‘Why’s that, then?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ I confessed. ‘Though new ovens smell better when you’ve done it, so maybe that’s it?’
‘If they’re new, they should smell fine anyway.’
‘It’s one of life’s great mysteries,’ I agreed, passing her the chocolate digestive biscuits, and she looked around her.
‘It’s more like a hospital in here now, with all these white units and tiles.’
‘Easy to clean – and easy to see when itisclean,’ I explained. ‘I’ll add a bit of colour with new blinds and some tough vinyl flooring – I’m having the same one all the way through to the back door.’
‘What about in the basement? They’ve taken up all the old stuff, what was nearly wore through.’
I got up and showed her the samples I’d chosen from. ‘This dove-grey one – the same as upstairs. Now the tiling is finished in the customer toilets, the flooring can all go down as soon as it arrives – Jack’s organizing that.’
‘Nell and I will be glad when it’s all done and the teashop opens, because we like to keep busy and that cleaning agency pays peanuts.’
‘Isn’t Nell …?’ I wondered how to put it tactfully. ‘I mean, won’t she be thinking of retiring soon?’
‘No, why should she? She’s fit as a fiddle and walks for miles every day with our Frank,’ she said, looking astounded at the mere suggestion.
‘Frank?’
‘Our greyhound. There’s a rescue place always trying to find homes for them. You should have one for a bit of company.’
‘I’ll certainly think about it, when I’ve settled down,’ I agreed, then added, ‘Nell must be fit if she’s out with the dog every day.’
‘She always says you have to use it or lose it,’ Tilda said. ‘You think on about getting a greyhound.’
‘I will,’ I promised.
Then I heard the back door open and assumed it was one of the workmen.
‘Cooee!’ called the unmistakable and unwelcome voice of Jim Voss, and then he strolled in as if he was sure of his welcome.
‘Our Nell said she’d seen him here before,’ Tilda said, eyeing him with disfavour. ‘Does he haunt the place?’
‘I might say the same about the Capsticks!’ he snapped back, disconcerted. ‘Don’t let me keep you, if you’re leaving.’
‘I’m not – I work here,’ she said.
‘Did you want something?’ I asked him bluntly.
He glanced at Tilda, who was clearly immovable, then said with an ingratiating smile, ‘I’m here on a delicate mission – Mrs Muswell called us last night in great distress.’
‘Has she found her conscience lying about somewhere?’ asked Tilda.
‘She should have called me,’ I said. ‘I’m the one she’s cheated.’
‘Quite unintentionally, it appears,’ he said quickly. ‘She didn’t think you’d want any of those old things, they were only fit to be thrown out.’
‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘So, can I have her phone number?’
‘I don’t have it,’ he lied. ‘But she’s calling us again later today because, as I say, she’s sent me on a delicate mission. She suddenly remembered that she’d left her mother’s tea set in a box under the stairs to the basement – and it’s of great sentimental value and she’d like it back.’
