Page 70 of The Winter We Met
‘That’s a brilliant idea.’
32
I’d forgotten just how comfortable Up the Spout was. The little building was Tudor-style and inside there must have been a hundred different teapots lined up on rich mahogany beams. Colourful table clothes were decorated with printed images of suitably themed flowers such as chamomile. There were twenty different types of tea on the menu that was in the shape of a teapot. At the counter was a wide selection of muffins including lemon drizzled ones, vegan ones and a savoury selection including olive and roasted tomato, along with a special turkey and stuffing limited edition, and other types of cakes. Catchy folk music played in the background, against the sound of a gurgling coffee machine and cheerful chatter.
We were shown to a table on the ground floor. The sky was dark and grey outside. The tea room’s open fire was a welcome sight, along with its Christmas decorations. A ceramic snowman, with a pipe in its mouth, stood by the hearth.
‘How about afternoon tea for lunch? I asked. ‘What would you like?’ Gran had hardly said anything in the car.
‘You decide.’
Normally she had very firm ideas of what afternoon tea should consist of, preferring old favourites. I smiled, remembering one I’d taken her for last year – it was an ultra-modern coffee shop and the afternoon tea platter included fancy canapés and churros with dipping sauces. The waitress came over and I ordered a pot of Earl Grey for Gran. I couldn’t resist a festive spiced cappuccino. I asked for ham and mustard sandwiches as well as cheese and pickle. I plumped for traditional scones with jam and clotted cream and two mini slices of Victoria sponge.
‘I feel as if we’ve earned this, walking around Darkthorn Court. It’s very spacious and the size of those windows – it’s not dark at all.’ In fact, the outside was nothing like its name but white and clinical looking, rather like a hospital.
Gran pushed her leather gloves into her handbag. The waitress had hung our coats on a stand near the door.
‘So… what did you think?’ I said.
She unzipped her fleece.
‘The manager was nice, wasn’t she, Gran?’
‘But no Lynn,’ she replied tersely.
‘It’s too early to say that.’
‘So now I can’t even say what I want? But then why should I be surprised? I’ve got no say over having to leave the home and friends that I love.’
I smiled at the waitress as she delivered our drinks. I poured Gran’s cup. She added her own milk. She dropped in two cubes of sugar and stirred the spoon slowly. I gazed at her swollen knuckles.
‘The ensuite was nice, in the room they said could be yours.’
‘That sickly yellow colour leaves a lot to be desired.’
‘I thought it was cheerful. As for the view out of the window – how lovely to look onto a children’s play park. I bet those picnic tables get used a lot in the summer.’
‘Hardly the canal though, is it? Barges passing by all day made me feel as if I was still part of life, still moving.’
The three-tiered afternoon tea stand arrived but I suddenly wished I hadn’t ordered so much. Half-heartedly, I took a sandwich and after hesitating, Gran did the same. My phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my back pocket. A text from Nik. He’d arrived in the centre of Paris a few hours ago and had just fulfilled a childhood dream of standing under the Eiffel Tower. He’d signed off by writingsay hello to Alice for me.I showed the message to Gran. Her eyes brightened.
‘This sandwich is very good,’ she mumbled. ‘Just the right size. Not like the door stops you and me used to enjoy when we were both younger.’
‘Don’t eat them all,’ I retorted.
Gran’s voice quivered. ‘Sorry if I’ve not seemed very enthusiastic. You’re the best granddaughter I could have and I appreciate you taking me this morning. I don’t feel as if I’m alone in all this.’ She reached for another sandwich. ‘To be honest, I’m feeling grumpy because I’m right disappointed.’
I put down my cup. ‘You didn’t like it?’
Gran wiped her mouth with a napkin and stared me straight in the face. Her eyes looked a little redder than usual. The lids more hooded.
‘I did. That’s the problem. I don’t want to. I don’t want to move from Willow Court. I don’t want somewhere else to be suitable. None of this is fair.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I was expecting to hate the place. The opposite has happened and has made the move feel all the more real.’
‘I understand. Really I do. When I first moved in with you, I didn’t want to enjoy a single second – I wanted my mum. I was determined to hate every minute, even though you and I got on. And the more settled I felt, the more disloyal I felt to Mum and the life we’d had together, even though it wasn’t the best. Liking living with you… it made me realise I might never live with Mum again and it was hard. So I get how you’re feeling.’
‘Things turned out okay for you, didn’t they?’
‘And they will for you too. First off, did you see the exercise teacher, in the lounge?’
