Tuesdays at the Teacup Club (2 page)

‘It sounds good,’ Jamie said, a spark of light returning to his eyes. ‘When should we have it?’

‘I was thinking Tuesdays, starting in a fortnight. And before you say anything, I know you’re busy with your swing class that
night. This is something I could do myself. “Tuesdays at the Teacup Club”.’

‘Tuesdays at the Teacup Club,’ he said, mulling it over. ‘It has a nice ring to it. Go for your life, Ali.’

Jenny

Friday, 6th September

‘So, Jenny,’ JoJo, my editor, said. ‘You’re all set for the tour?’

‘Absolutely. I can’t wait,’ I replied, glancing up from the printed schedule of children’s bookshops and festival talks on
the table between us.

We were sitting in a bustling café in Soho. After a few weeks writing in jeans in my garden studio, I had relished the opportunity
to get dressed up in a smart wrap dress and heels and come into London for the day.

‘Good. Not long now – as you see, it all kicks off next Friday.’

‘Edinburgh,’ I said, checking the schedule. ‘What a great place to start. I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland.’

‘Your book did really well there, so we’re expecting some good audiences.’

‘It’ll be so nice to meet some readers and parents. Dan thinks it’s hilarious that I’ve planned out my outfit for each event,
but it’s not every day you get to do something like this, is it?’

‘It isn’t, no,’ JoJo said, with a warm smile. ‘And I’m sure your fans will love meeting you in person.’

It hadn’t been easy deciding to leave my office job at
Sussex Living
magazine last year, especially as I’d been working alongside Chloe. But since
Charlie, Carlitos and Me
was published, I hadn’t looked back. A few sketches I’d done up in my childhood bedroom, while my dad and Chris were watching
TV downstairs, had changed my life more than I ever could have expected. And none of it would have happened without Alison
– her encouragement had given me the nerve to send them off to a publisher.

‘Shall we get some dessert and you can tell me how you’re getting on with your latest project?’ JoJo said, pointing over to
the glass cabinet of cakes and éclairs.

‘I’m not going to argue with that.’

I said goodbye to JoJo just after three. We arranged that I’d meet my publicist at King’s Cross at ten in the morning on Friday,
and she wished me luck with the tour. I headed in the direction of Oxford Street – there was time to fit in some clothes shopping
before I went back to Sussex, and my wardrobe was definitely in need of a boost. Charlesworth might be many things – picturesque,
peaceful and friendly – but it certainly wasn’t on the fashion frontline. Topshop was in my sights as my phone buzzed in my
handbag. I picked up.

‘Chloe, hi,’ I said, stepping back as a black cab whizzed past.

‘Hi, Jen – have you got a minute?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Are you OK? You sound rushed.’

‘I’m fine. It’s probably nothing.’

‘What’s nothing?’

‘It’s Chris.’

‘Chris? What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve been trying to get through to him on the phone for two days, Jen. I’ve left messages but heard nothing
back. It’s weird. I spoke with your dad but he’s not been able to get in touch either. So I came round to his flat – that’s
where I am now – but no one’s answering the door.’

‘Right,’ I said, thinking back to the last time I’d seen Chris. It was a week ago, for Sunday lunch at Dad’s. Had he mentioned
a work trip? Or a visit to Mum, where the phone reception was always iffy?

‘The thing is, Jen,’ Chloe went on, ‘his car’s here, and I can see a light on. I’m pretty sure he’s in.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, Chlo. You go home and I’ll drop by on my way back.’

Abandoning my planned visit to Topshop, I took the tube to Victoria and got a train back to Sussex. I called Chris’s number
a couple of times. It rang through to the answerphone, but there was nothing particularly unusual about that. Chloe was inclined
to worry about things, and I wanted to be able to put her mind at rest.

That Sunday lunch at Dad’s, Chris had shown me the engagement ring he was planning to propose to Chloe with. Could he have
got cold feet?

I walked from Charlesworth train station to the quiet residential street Chris’s flat was on, just a few minutes from where
Dan and I lived. When I reached the ground-floor maisonette, I pressed the button on his intercom and peered through the curtained
bay window. I could see a light on in his living room. When there was no reply to the doorbell I rapped on the front window
and called out.

‘Chris, it’s me, Jen. Are you in there?’

I saw movement, and then heard him buzz me in. Relieved, I pushed the door open and picked up some of his post that was lying
on the doormat. As I walked through the black-and-white-tiled
hallway his flat door opened, and Chris was framed in the doorway in his wheelchair. His usually warm, tanned skin looked
pale.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘What’s going on? Chloe said she’s been calling and …’

‘I know. I’ve been meaning to call her. I’ve been pretty tired.’

‘Tired?’ I said. My brother didn’t do tired. He worked hard, and then he played hard, usually leaving the rest of us for dust
on nights out.

‘Come in,’ he said, reversing his chair and leaving me room to pass.

‘Here you go,’ I said, handing him the post. He put it on a side table. ‘Chris, how tired do you mean? Dad said he hadn’t
heard from you either.’

‘I don’t want Dad worrying, he doesn’t need any stress.’ Chris barely looked over his shoulder at me as he spoke.

‘Worrying?’ I echoed.

‘It’s no one else’s problem. I want to deal with this on my own.’

‘Deal with what, Chris?’ I said, my pulse racing. ‘What are you talking about?’

Maggie

Monday, 9th September

Pushing Stan’s buggy ahead of her, Maggie stepped inside Bluebelle du Jour, and took in a lungful of the scent of fresh flowers
– lilies, freesias and tulips filled her shop, with vintage photos and street signs from Paris on the walls.

‘Maggie!’ Anna said enthusiastically, stepping out from behind the counter to give her a hug hello. She was wearing a white
apron and large silver hoop earrings, her blonde curls up in a top-knot.

‘Hi,’ Maggie replied, noticing how fresh and youthful her assistant looked and hoping the bags under her own eyes weren’t
too obvious. Stan had barely slept last night, or the two nights before, and as a result had been cranky all morning. Cranky
didn’t come close to covering what Maggie was feeling.

‘I’m afraid Stan’s joining us today,’ she explained. ‘Owen got called away at the last minute.’

Anna bent down to get a peek at Stan, and he gurgled as she tickled his toes. ‘Great. It’s his shop too.’

‘So, how’s everything been going?’ Maggie asked.

‘Oh, fine,’ Anna said confidently. ‘Pretty quiet this morning, apart from the deliveries.’

‘There haven’t been any delays, have there? I was wondering, with the rain and everything.’

Maggie heard a noise and glanced down nervously at Stan in his buggy, but he was playing with his dummy calmly.

‘Everything’s gone smoothly,’ Anna said, straightening her apron. ‘We’ve got a christening this weekend, but that’s been organised
for a while. And the next wedding we’re doing isn’t for another month.’

‘OK,’ Maggie said. ‘Sounds good. Thanks for holding the fort so well.’

‘I’ve really enjoyed it. The events especially.’

Maggie nodded, and carried on nodding, not saying anything. Her mind went blank, and she realised she’d forgotten what Anna
had just said.

‘Are you OK?’ Anna asked.

‘Oh, yes. I’m fine,’ she said, shaking off her fatigue. ‘I thought it would be a good time to come in and catch up, but now…’
She ran a hand over her hair, knotty with tangles, and her words trailed off. She couldn’t catch hold of her thoughts again.

For the whole weekend days had run ungoverned into nights, dawn drawing around again before she’d even closed her eyes sometimes.
Stan was teething and keeping her awake almost constantly with his wails of distress. She’d been desperately putting on cooling
gels and trying to soothe him, but nothing seemed to help. It worried her to see him in pain.

‘You could always come back another day?’ Anna said. ‘There’s nothing urgent to deal with, honestly.’

Maggie considered it for a moment. She’d told herself she’d start back today, and while Stan being there too wasn’t ideal,
she didn’t want to change her plan.

‘I’ll just take a look at the orders and accounts,’ she said. ‘I’ll be out in the back room if you need me.’

As she said it, she realised how unlikely that was. Anna seemed completely in control. Maggie had once thought no one could
run the shop like she could, multi-tasking, scheduling and managing events – but perhaps she’d been wrong about that.

She walked into the back office, wheeling Stan with her, then sat down and switched on the laptop. She opened a spreadsheet
Anna had been keeping updated with orders, and ran her eyes over the dates and flower specifications. As she looked at the
screen, the numbers jumped around. The words became unfamiliar to her.

Stan fussed in his buggy, tossing and turning, and let out a piercing cry. Maggie pressed her eyes shut, tight, and cradled
her head in her hands.

Just after midday, Maggie stepped out into Charlesworth High Street. She’d done all she could at Bluebelle. She passed the
new coffee shop, Love Latte, which was full of students, twenty-somethings on their laptops and mums like her, chatting over
steaming hot drinks and muffins. She crossed over the road towards Blitz Spirit.

Pushing open the glass door, she saw Alison bent over a table wiping away cake crumbs, dark hair swept back in her trademark
victory rolls, and bright red lipstick on.

‘I know I’m a day early, but tell me you’ve got five minutes?’ Maggie said, pushing Stan’s buggy inside. He’d finally fallen
asleep.

‘Of course, Maggie,’ Alison said with a smile. ‘And for this one’ – she peeked into Stan’s buggy – ‘anything. How about a
banoffee pie? For you, I mean. Would that help?’

‘I think it would, yes,’ Maggie said, taking a seat. ‘Thank you.’

Alison made her way over to the counter and brought out a large slice of pie on a plate.

‘Thanks,’ Maggie said, taking hold of it gratefully, and Alison poured them both cups of tea. ‘This brings back memories,’
Maggie said, reaching out to touch the blue and white china teapot.

‘A find from Teacup Summer,’ Alison smiled, recalling the time they’d spent together collecting teacups from auctions and
charity shops, feeding a passion for vintage they shared with Jenny. After the cups were used for Jenny’s wedding, and the
wedding Maggie was arranging flowers for, Alison had turned most of them into teacup candles and sold them from her craft
site. The remainder were here, at Blitz Spirit.

‘That time feels like a world away now,’ Maggie said. ‘So uncomplicated.’

‘How are things going?’

Maggie shrugged. ‘The honest answer? I’ve barely slept the last couple of nights with Stan’s teething.’

‘You do look a bit tired,’ Alison said, her forehead creased in concern.

‘I can’t think straight, Ali. I just popped into Bluebelle to make myself useful.’ A lump rose to her throat as she spoke.
‘But I couldn’t do a thing.’

Alison reached across the coffee table and touched her friend’s hand gently. ‘Go easy on yourself. It’ll take a bit of time,
that’s all.’

‘I know you’re probably right,’ Maggie said. ‘But how long? I feel like such a mess.’ She held out the sleeve of her green
tea dress so that Alison could see the stain on it. ‘Look, brand new and there’s baby sick on it already.’

Alison smiled. ‘Maggie, you, even after a few late nights in a dress with stains on it, are still more glamorous than the
rest of Charlesworth after hours scrubbing up. You’re not getting any sympathy from me.’

Maggie laughed, surprised at the sound after a few days of not hearing it. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m being self-indulgent and
vain. How I look doesn’t really matter. But my brain – that does. And it seems like I can barely remember what day it is at
the moment. It’s hard to be a good mum when you can’t think straight.’

‘You’re doing a great job, Maggie. Don’t push yourself so much.’

‘I want to do it perfectly,’ she said. ‘But whatever I do with Stan seems to result in chaos – and at the same time, I don’t
know if I can face putting him in nursery, handing him over to a stranger.’

Alison nodded, as if she recognised the feeling from her own time as a new mum.

‘I feel bad about it, but I also miss the shop, working, meeting people – talking to grown-ups. I know I should be treasuring
every minute with him, and I’ll never get this time again. But – Ali, I used to have these big dreams, setting up a sister
shop for Bluebelle down in London, do you remember? And now, well, I’m lucky if I get out of the house once a day, and even
that seems to take three hours.’

‘This stage won’t go on for ever,’ Alison said soothingly. ‘You do get your brain back. A bit.’

Maggie raised an eyebrow. ‘Promise me?’

Alison nodded. ‘And then they find new ways to destroy you,’ she smiled.

Maggie laughed. ‘So how are Sophie and Holly?’

‘I shouldn’t speak ill of them, they’re being lovely at the moment, actually. We bought Sophie a screen-printing kit and she’s
been squirrelled away in her room making greetings cards. A nice change from me and Pete having to drag her back from parties
and apprehending secret boyfriends in our hallway. Holly’s in a production of
Guys and Dolls
at school, so she’s rehearsing for that at the moment.’

‘How’s Pete?’ Maggie asked.

‘He’s doing well.’ Alison’s eyes lit up at her husband’s name. If Maggie hadn’t witnessed some of their ups and downs the
previous summer, she would assume they’d always been blissfully happy. ‘He’s been really supportive of the extra hours I’ve
been doing here, and if me and the girls ever get a square meal I have to say it’s down to him.’