Page 85 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
‘You can keep away from my prince too!’ Shaz yelled, her own long pink talons curling into claws.
‘Let me deal with this, my dear,’ said Prince S’Hallow, unsheathing a gold-handled sword and swishing it about in the air, though not in a way that led her to think he knew what to do with it.
It all went to show that stupidity was the better part of valour.
I was still away with the wicked fairies when Nile’s voice jerked me back to reality.
‘Alice? Are you there?’ he called from the bottom of the stairs.
I rose stiffly to my feet. ‘Come up,’ I invited, and he appeared a moment later. He looked tired – but then, I suppose he would after driving all the way up from London.
‘I did knock on the café door first. You need a bell that rings up here, or one of those intercom things, for when the café is shut. I don’t like just walking in.’
‘It hasn’t stopped you so far,’ I pointed out. ‘And you could have sent me a message saying you were on your way.’
‘I did, several of them. Your car was at the back, so when you didn’t answer, I got worried.’
‘I was just working,’ I explained, still so far away I was having trouble reconnecting to the here-and-now. ‘Did you want me for anything?’
‘Well, I assume you had something to do with the rose in a tub outside my shop, since there are also two pots either side of your door?’
‘Oh, yes – I’d forgotten,’ I said. ‘Bel and I went to the garden centre yesterday. Do you like it? It’s a present, for all you’ve done for me, not to mention the lovely jug.’
‘Yes … and thank you. I think.’
‘Think?’ I repeated. ‘You’re not a plant lover?’
‘Oh, I love them all right, only I’m away so much it’ll probably die of thirst, or get pot-bound, or whatever.’
‘I’ll look after it, along with mine,’ I offered. ‘The garden centre man who delivered them has given me some advice about the old roses in the backyard, too.’
‘I’ve brought you something else I picked up while I was away, but please don’t pay me back in more plants,’ he said ungratefully. ‘I’ve left the boxes downstairs – come and see.’
And there, on the old table in the utility room, were a load of cardboard cartons, absolutely full of dusty willow-pattern china.
‘Bel said you needed more, so I put the word out,’ he explained.
And it seemed every dealer he knew was inundated with cheap modern willow-pattern china that they were dying to get rid of, because on the way down and back he’d collected all of this.
‘I’d have made it back hours ago, in time for lunch, if I hadn’t had to detour so often,’ he complained. ‘There’s more to come, too, if you want it.’
‘I don’t think I can have too much, because of breakages, and I’ve got lots of room in the cupboards here to store it. Thank you so much, Nile,’ I said gratefully. ‘You’re so thoughtful, and I’m always such a cow to you!’ I added with sudden compunction: he did bring out the defensive hedgehog spikes.
He gave me one of those undermining smiles. ‘Not quite always … and anyway, I like your acerbic edge – it keeps me on my toes.’ He bent down and hauled a bigger box out from under the table. ‘I brought thisin first, because it’s a bit delicate. I spotted it in a friend’s shop and thought it would be perfect for the café.’
I unfolded the lid to reveal an old chandelier in a wide, shallow and rather art deco style, with matching wall lights.
‘Oh, it’s lovely!’ I said, as he held it up. ‘But it must have cost afortune!’
‘No, I did a deal with some stuff of mine he wanted. Anyway, it’s another way of burdening you with gratitude and getting you in my evil power.’ He stroked an imaginary handlebar moustache and leered.
‘Huh!’ I said, unimpressed, then added, ‘Do you want to come upstairs?’
‘That’s not an offer I get every day,’ he said, raising one eyebrow.
‘For a cup of coffee,’ I said pointedly, though going slightly pink, because I’d suddenly remembered our smoochy moment outside the restaurant. It only showed how far I’d vanished into the book, that I’d totally forgotten it until that moment. ‘Maybe something to eat, too, because I haven’t had anything for hours and I’m ravenous.’
I cooked pasta, added a jar of pesto sauce and a sprinkling of grated Parmesan (hardly up to Henry Godet’s standards, but good and filling) and while we were eating it, Nile told me where he’d been.
