After a busy Sunday in The Tea Cosy, Kate and I close the door and relax with a flop onto one of our squashy sofas. Sunday is one of our busiest days and to us the end of our working week since we do not open on Mondays. We use this opportunity to enjoy eating up left over cakes whilst we sip hot, steaming tea. Chatting about the village gossip and discussing the menus and upcoming events, with our tired feet propped up, I sigh and sink into what is my favourite times of the week. You may be thinking, what possible events could we need to discuss for a small cafe, but we do cater externally on a small scale and are introducing Craft and Cake nights as well as our reading night. The interest in Kate’s crafts has grown so much so that we decided to start this once a month. People come and Kate teaches them various craft elements, such as knitting or sewing for a small fee and I make refreshments.
“Well you’re still none-the wiser after your enquires today,” mumbles Kate with her mouth full of millionaire short bread, which I bake when I can’t decide how I feel – a brittle, stiff short bread base, covered with a gooey, soft caramel, topped with chocolate, which quite frankly universally suits all of my moods. “Sorry – mouthful.” Kate is referring to my questioning of locals about my man (well not my – you know what I mean).
“Nobody seems to know anything about him, and surely in Chipham Green that’s a first. I am beginning to think I imagined it, as it all seems so surreal.”
“Nope, you definitely did not imagine him and I saw the effect you seem to have upon him with my own eyes. I’d say he has a thing for you!”
“A thing – you mean sympathy or amusement? Now we’d better start mopping this floor, but this time, we can leave out the dancing,” I groan.
As I slowly rise to my feet and reflect upon the next task from my list, reading a classic novel, I ask Kate for her opinion, since she is an avid reader. “Which classic novel do you think I should read? I mean, I may never read another, so if I was to read just one, which would you suggest?”
“Oh it’s got to be Jane Eyre; tragic in many ways, but with a happy ending,” gushes Kate, “but you should ask your mum, you know she is the expert in that department. She’s been trying to get you to read classic literature for years.”
“She may finally be proud of me if I do read one, which makes my stubborn side want to decide on my own. I think I’ll go to the bookshop in town tomorrow when I visit my mum and dad.”
After cleaning and closing up, I pop into Ruth’s for a glass of red wine as I do most Sunday evenings. Ruth already has the wine open and is sitting at the wooden table in her small, but beautiful, back garden overlooking the village green. I often think this is one of the best places in the world to sit and relax. Ruth shows me her new plants with pride, whilst I try to express enthusiasm, but as long as they look pretty I don’t care what plants are growing. Ruth is very technical about getting just the right type of plant, shade of colour and height. This is why her garden seems to effortlessly enchant its visitors into some sort of tranquil spell.
I spend the next ten minutes informing Ruth about village news and also my second encounter with the mystery man. She makes a small attempt to hide her amusement at my embarrassment, but fails. “Well I did better than you Lizzie and found out a little about him myself,” Ruth explains as I sit eagerly waiting to hear any information about who he might be. The thing about Ruth is that you can’t rush her when she has something to tell. Being fairly impatient, I have tried this several times, but it seems to delay her even more, so now I have learned to sit patiently through the waiting torture. “Well, he is new in the area and originally from north England, but I’m not sure where exactly. Apparently he’s opening some sort of business in the area,” she explains. I wait for more, and wait some more, but nothing.
“What–that’s it?” I ask somewhat disappointed.
“I didn’t say I had lots of news and that’s more than you have found out,” Ruth responds defensively.
“Well there’s one thing for it, I will have to resign myself to the fact that I will see him around, so need to learn about composure and finesse.”
Ruth and I chat well into the evening, drinking several glasses of wine along the way. Ruth doesn’t do classical literature, but does inform me of a little shop she has spotted in the local town – Avington–which may help me in another more risqué task on my list, but I’ll tell you much more about that later.
The following morning, my head is a lead ball, as I try to raise it from my pillow. Realising that I had one too many wines last night, I let it drop back down with a thump. I also notice that I am sleeping naked, an indication that I must have drank far too much. When I have had several glasses of wine, I often get to the point where taking my clothes off and putting my pyjamas on is too much effort. I often use my state of dress or undress in bed as a measure of how bad my hangover might be. Pyjama top with knickers means that things aren’t too bad; however naked, means that I will need to reach for painkillers pretty quickly.
Deciding that my slumber must end, I resign myself to the fact that I need to get to my parent’s house with a stinking hangover as my company. Visiting my mum and dad’s when my brother, Mark, is there is bad enough, but with this hangover, I dread the prospect even more. Nevertheless, I only have myself to blame – and Ruth of course. After all, it was her idea to open the second bottle, but then she can drink like a fish and still be spritely the following day. This is something I have never mastered myself.
Perhaps I am being slightly unfair to my brother Mark, but let me tell you a little more about my family, so that you can make up your own mind. Mark works in finance, in The City and earns huge amounts of money, which he seems to enjoy everybody knowing about. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but I often wonder if we were actually born from the same set of parents because we are so very different and don’t completely understand each other’s views on life. Mark uses every opportunity he can to discuss money and ensure we all know about his latest gadgets. For me, this is less interesting than watching paint dry on a cold day. May be it’s me who is strange, but I have never been focused on money or impressed by so-called status. This leads Mark and I to clash on several topics, so I tend to avoid visiting my parents when Mark is there. As children we were close, but seem to have drifted apart in more recent years.
Mum adores her first born, successful, clever son, where as I have always clicked better with my dad and often feel like a disappointment to my mum. She loves The Tea Cosy and often pops in, but seems to view it as a little hobby, not an actual job that earns me an income and if I’m honest, this grates on me, especially since I am fiercely proud of it.
If Mum were truthful, I think she would like to have seen me more refined than I am, wearing pretty dresses and married to a city barrister or something similar. Although she has never said so much, I often find comments she makes indicate her true feelings.
As I arrive, Mark’s car is on the drive, which causes my heart to sink to my shoes. Making matters worse, is the fact that Mark is here with his fiancée, Tabitha. Now let me tell you about Tabitha. She is perfect in every way: perfect hair, perfect figure, perfect city career, perfect, perfect and even more perfect. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m stunning, but I can certainly turn heads on occasions; but next to Tabitha, I feel like a frumpy mare. Mum, of course, loves her! To be fair to her, I have only met her a few times, so shouldn’t judge her prematurely, but she’s doesn’t seem the sort of person whose company I would actively seek.
Tabitha opens the door and gives me the once over as I walk up the drive, leaving me feeling like a cat-walk model on display, only without the model walk or looks. I now wish I had made a little more effort with my appearance this morning. “Hello darling, still driving that old thing, but then I suppose you don’t want to get a decent car full of mud in the country do you?” Tabitha asked rhetorically. Mum and Dad’s house is on the edge of town. They moved out of Chipham Green a number of years ago, but this is as far into the country as Tabitha has travelled.
“Yes Tabitha, what with us not having tarmac roads in the country- still the old cobbles, we need battered up cars.” I reply sarcastically, but Tabitha thinks I am being serious.
“I don’t know why you just don’t move to civilisation like the rest of us, you poor thing.”
I grimace, but remain silent until I get into the house. After the general greetings and Mark informing us about how great he is and also Tabitha telling us how great she is, the conversation turns around to me. “Darling, is The Tea Cosy still ticking along well?” Mum asks.
“Yes it’s going really well, so Kate and I are happy. We are starting some more of our themed nights soon.”
“Surely you can’t make a decent living from a cafe in a small village?” questions Mark.
“You’d be surprised at the number of visitors we get to the village and I’m quite happy living there, and with The Tea Cosy.”
“Actually, James, my old university friend, is opening some sort of centre for extreme sports and outward bound holidays not too far from you. You might have met him many years ago Lizzie, but you’d still have been at secondary school. I’ve not seen him for a while and need to catch up with him. I promised to go up for the weekend before he opens the centre officially, which should be sometime soon – mid June I think,” said Mark. This is the most interesting thing Mark has recently said to me, because doing an extreme sport is on my list. Maybe I could go with Mark. Even though he does annoy me, it would be a perfect opportunity to complete another task. I do vaguely remember his friend, James, and think he was pleasant enough during the few times I met him – he had long, untamed hair if I remember rightly.
“Really, you’d come over my way to do some extreme sports?” I ask surprised.
“Well everything’s extreme in my job Lizzie, I’m sure I could handle a few outdoor activities. I did do stuff like that at university, you know.”
“I’d love to come with you because I’ve been meaning to do something like that for a while,” I hint, hoping Mark will invite me.
“I couldn’t bear the mud,” mused Tabitha. This annoys me, so I decide to do some pay back.
“Oh Tabitha, you must come too. It would be so much fun. We’d all go away together and it would give me more of a chance to get to know you.” I think this may have worked as Tabitha doesn’t like to be left out and adores attention.
“Oh I’m not sure–maybe. What do you think Mark?” she asks, slightly hesitant, but craving yet more attention.
“Well you may find it a useful and interesting opportunity in building links by using his centre for your firm–team building and conferences. I’ll call him later and arrange a visit for us all before he opens. Maybe you could bring a friend Lizzie.”
At this, I feel quite excited. Maybe Ruth and Kate would come. Gosh seeing Mark isn’t working out bad at all now that I’ve got another thing on my list sorted. This reminds me about my current task–the classic novel.
“Mum, I’m thinking of buying one of the classics at the bookshop tomorrow in town. Which one would you recommend?” I ask taking the conversation onto another subject before Tabitha has a chance to change her mind or before anybody questions my enthusiasm for extreme sports, when I’ve never expressed any before for such activities.
“Oh darling, finally you are maturing – wonderful! “ This reminds me of the reason why I haven’t read one yet. “You must read Tess of the d’Urbervilles; it was one of the first I read when I was a teenager. In fact I’ve never read it since – somehow I’m afraid it won’t be as good as the first time.”
Tabitha looks smug and says, “You mean you have never read any of the classics Lizzie? I just adored them at private school. I can’t stand anything too lowbrow.”
“Lizzie’s idea of reading would be Heat magazine or some chick lit book,” says Mark.
The visit is now annoying me again – I love chick lit! I don’t respond, but in the back of my mind I decide to get Jayne Eyre and go with Kate’s suggestion just to annoy Mum and also intend to buy a copy of Heat, Now and Star magazines in protest to Mark and Tabitha.
I sit through dinner listening to a lot of boring conversation about investment that I don’t understand or want to understand. Eventually dad goes into the garden, so I follow to get away from Mark and Tabitha’s intense presence. I find Dad sitting in the garden admiring his vegetables. Mum can’t understand his desire to grow vegetables, but I love the fact that he does. I am not a natural gardener, but I thrive on being outdoors and I appreciate good quality food, so growing vegetables interests me. “How are the veggies growing this year Dad?”
“Much better this year, but then it’s still early days.” I sit down next to him and hand him a cup of tea. Dad loves his tea and cake and is one our regulars in The Tea Cosy. He often comes over when Mum is out shopping. “I hope you don’t take what they say to heart Lizzie,” says Dad with one of his warm smiles showing off his calm, contented face. “Tabitha is okay, but I don’t find I have much in common with her. As long as Mark is happy, then that’s fine by me and of course we don’t know her too well, so we must give her a chance. Your Mum always thinks we could have done better for ourselves and Mark is living her dream in a way, so that’s why she hangs on to his every word.”
“Are you trying to say that I am not?” I ask Dad.
“You’re not Lizzie, but you are living out my dream and I am intensely proud of you for doing what makes you happy. Neither your Mum nor I completely lived our dreams. I would have been happy to have stayed in the village and she would have loved to have lived in a city. We love each other and have maintained a good marriage despite our differences, but I sometimes feel your Mum doesn’t stop to see that you are more like me and don’t want the same things that she wanted. I think she doesn’t want you to waste your life. But I can see that you are happy, and being happy in what you’re doing is anything but a waste; it’s a dream, so you keep on being happy Lizzie.”