1

      ‘There’s a coachload of fifty people due in twenty minutes.’

      Ellie turned to see Joe smiling at her; he must have slipped quietly into the teashop kitchen.

      ‘You’re kidding.’ He was often teasing her, it might just be a wind-up. She’d hardly stopped today as it was. It had been a very busy August Bank Holiday Monday – the end of the school summer holidays. Good for the till, but tough on her feet. She felt like she’d been juggling all day; keeping up with the lunch orders, whizzing up a couple of extra lemon drizzle cakes in between, when it looked like they might run out, despite having baked lots of extra cakes and cookies all week in the build up to the weekend.

      Joe was shaking his head, looking serious. ‘Nope … Deana’s just had a call from the driver. All good for business though.’

      ‘Right then, well I’d better get my skates on and see how we’re doing for cakes out in the teashop.’ Ellie wasn’t quite sure what she could rustle up in twenty minutes, but there might be something stored in the freezer. Cupcakes came to mind, she often kept a spare batch of vanilla ones just in case; she could ice them pretty fast if she needed.

      ‘You better had. But first …’ He came close, put his arms around her from behind and kissed the nape of her neck, just where the bare skin showed beneath her ponytail.

      It sent a little quiver down her spine. ‘I haven’t got time, Joe. You can’t tell me that, and then expect a kissing session.’ She turned to face him, trying to look cross.

      ‘Why not?’ He smiled cheekily.

      The smile that still got her. ‘Ah, okay then. Just one kiss. A short one.’

      She pressed a pert kiss on his lips, and went to pull away. He pulled her closer, his arms around her. Kissed her again, warm and tender, and teasingly good.

      She stepped back, reminding herself this was not the time or the place. ‘Doris’ll be marching in any moment. It’s not right. And, I’ve got far too much to do. Go.’ But she was grinning.

      ‘Okay, okay, I know where I’m not wanted. I should have let them all turn up on you without warning.’

      He headed for the swing door.

      ‘Thanks,’ she finished.

      He gave her a wink as he exited.

      They’d been married for over three years now, meeting at her first ever interview for the lease on the Claverham Castle teashop. He was the estate manager, tall, with dark, slightly floppy-fringed hair – he had it cut a little shorter nowadays – and she was a rather naïve twenty-six-year-old, coming straight from her uninspiring insurance job in the city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, armed only with her love of baking, her Nanna’s cookbook, and her teashop dream. Nanna’s slightly charred Be-Ro Recipe book still held pride of place on a shelf in the teashop’s kitchen – that was another story.

      Now, five years on, her husband was still as affectionate as ever, probably more so. Love and trust, and tenderness, having grown between them. But at hectic times like this, she really had to focus on running the teashop. They would catch up later, back in their castle apartment, and hopefully they might carry on where they left off.

      The afternoon flew by, in a flurry of making vanilla and chocolate frosting for the spare cupcakes (yay – she’d had some in the freezer!). She also found an extra batch of choc-chip shortbread in a tub in the store cupboard, and after rearranging the remaining cakes and biscuits in the counter display of the teashop, it looked a pretty good selection.

      Irene (the newest addition to the teashop team and Ellie’s wonderful, sixty-something, baking assistant), Doris (waitress, gossip-lover, difficult at times, yet with a heart of gold) and Lauren (a lovely girl from the village who helped on weekends and holidays) were in full swing too.

      Serving fifty additional people in a teashop that was nearly full as it was, was a challenge. Luckily, they had some extra tables outside in the courtyard, and as it was a sunny day that worked well, but it meant even more to-ing and fro-ing for the waitresses. The coffee machine was spluttering and frothing, very much on overdrive but still sending out those gorgeous, rich aromas. The cakes and scones were plated up – the lemon drizzle proving to be a hit.

      Ellie’s feet were sore, her back was aching. It was nearly four-thirty, and they normally closed around now. But there were still several stragglers, sat chatting and sipping their drinks like they hadn’t a care in the world. And, that was fine. Let them enjoy their trip out, and their treat at