The Cosy Christmas Teashop: Cakes, castles and wedding bells – the perfect feel good romance. Caroline Roberts
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here.’ Joe’s strong arms were around her, comforting, steady.
She rested her head against his chest and allowed a tear to run down her cheek. She felt so lucky that they had met, that she had taken the chance on coming up here to take on the lease for the teashop, five years ago now. Even three years after their own wedding, she still had to pinch herself that it had worked out so wonderfully. It felt so very precious to have found the right person, having his arms around her at night, and at times like this.
‘Right,’ she rallied. ‘I’d better get on with this cooking and my next batch of baking, or the tearooms will be out of cookies and cake, and that will never do. Oh, and I must ring the catering company, and Wendy at the florist’s and the band from Berwick that were booked too, to let them know the wedding’s had to be cancelled.’
‘I’ll see you later, then. I need to go over and check the farmstead next. You sure you’re okay now?’
‘Yes, of course. I just really feel for them. What a dreadful thing to happen, and what a shock.’
‘Yeah, they’re a great couple. He was chatting to me about his bike last time they were here. He was going to let me have a go on it, when they were next back up. I fancied blasting it along the castle driveway.’
‘I didn’t even know you could ride a motorbike?’
‘Yeah well, hidden talents of a misspent youth. Right, I’d better crack on.’
Doris bustled into the kitchen soon after; she’d been waiting expectantly for news on the urgent phone call that she had intercepted, and had to fetch Ellie for.
‘Everything okay?’ she angled.
‘No. Not really.’ Ellie was still feeling the shock, trying to take it all in.
The middle-aged waitress’s eyebrows shot up.
‘You know that lovely couple who’ve been planning their wedding with us, Daniel and Lucy? It’s in two weeks’ time. The ones who turn up on the motorbike. Well, he’s been involved in a terrible road accident.’ She felt her voice catch on the words. ‘That was Lucy, she’s devastated. They’re going to have to cancel.’
‘Ah, bless. Yes, I remember them, they were nice sorts. Not like those awful ones from down south for the other September wedding, the ones who keep changing their damned minds on everything. She’s turning out to be a right Bridezilla, that one.’
Ellie knew exactly who Doris meant, and had to agree with her. They were the most difficult couple that they’d had to deal with by far, in the last four years of hosting weddings at the castle. To be fair, the groom seemed okay, he had probably learnt to do what he was told, but the bride and her mother …
‘Yes, I know … But there you go, the customer is always right Doris, and they come in all shapes and sizes. We have to do our best to meet all their needs, however demanding.’
‘Hah,’ Doris spluttered, ‘it would help if they knew what those needs were!’
‘Agreed.’ Ellie gave a small smile and a sigh all at once, and started rolling out another batch of cookie dough for some white chocolate and hazelnut biscuits.
Why did the bad stuff always have to happen to the good guys? Life didn’t seem fair sometimes.
‘She wants a bloody unicorn now!’
Ellie had phoned through to Deana’s office, her fifty-something friend and colleague, and Lord Henry’s long-term PA. Deana was down-to-earth, warm-hearted and had been Ellie’s rock in times of crisis through her early years at the castle. She was also helping Ellie with the wedding coordinating that seemed to be taking up so much of her time these days. Ellie needed to share this latest, crazy request from Bridezilla. The wedding itself was only three weeks away, and the daily phone calls and demands from the bride and her mother were getting more and more extreme. It wouldn’t be so bad if they’d choose something and stick to it, but it was an ever-evolving wish list, that pushed Ellie’s organisational skills and patience to the limit.
‘A unicorn, how the hell do we get a twatting unicorn to a wedding?’ Deana gave an exasperated sigh down the line.
‘It’d be funny, if it wasn’t us had to deal with it,’ Ellie commented. ‘Are there any white horses around the village?’
Deana laughed, ‘It’s a starting point, I suppose … But how exactly are we going to make it grow a horn from its head?’
‘I have no idea. I’m just trying to think creatively.’ Ellie was shaking her head at the craziness of the situation.
‘Come and see me later, when Irene’s in, and you get five minutes. We’ll put our heads together over a cup of tea.’
Irene was the latest addition to the teashop staff and what a godsend she had been. Wendy, the florist, had recommended her. She’d been a school cook, was now retired, but found she had too much time on her hands and was desperate to find some local work. She was a happy soul, never made a fuss, and could bake like Mary Berry; her cakes were very traditional but amazing. Her Victoria sponge was to die for, and her fruit cakes, wow, they were proving quite a hit as wedding cakes. Irene would make the fruit-laden cakes, feeding them well with brandy over a month or so, and Ellie would use her creative skills to ice and decorate them – they made fabulous celebration cakes. The lovely Irene was also a dab hand at quiches and scones.
At the interview, she’d reminded Ellie of a younger Nanna, with her neat grey curls, warm smile, and with her love of baking too, that had sealed the deal. Ellie had learnt her baking skills from her Nanna. She remembered vividly standing on a stool as a little girl, stirring the cake mix, in her Nanna’s galley kitchen in her brick terraced house in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. She still missed her so much; Ellie would love for her to have seen the success she’d made of the Castle Teashop, and to be able to have a really good catch up with her over a slice of cake and a cup of tea. But yes, having Irene to help, was the next best thing, and it had freed up some valuable time for Ellie to coordinate the wedding events they hosted at the castle, knowing the teashop was in safe hands.
‘Well, we can’t afford to upset the bridal party. We still need the final payment.’ Deana brought her back to the here and now.
‘Yes, I know. We really can’t scoff at the money they’re prepared to pay. But blimey, we’ll be working for it. Oh and get this, we need hundreds of white rose petals to line the chapel aisle, the reception tables and the honeymoon suite. Wendy’s going to love having to peel those off one by one. And, they have to be perfectly fresh – done on the day. Silk ones just won’t do.’
‘Oh well, Wendy’ll just have to charge an hourly rate for petal picking on top of the flower bill.’
Whatever they did for this wedding, Ellie was sure it would never be quite enough in the end, but they could only try their best. She usually loved her wedding co-ordinator role at the castle, but this particular wedding was turning into a bit of a nightmare, pushing her to the limits.
‘Right, better get on, Deana. I’ll catch you later. I’ll pop across when I get chance.’
‘Yeah, see you soon, pet.’
Ellie couldn’t stop thinking about poor Daniel, wondering how he was after his accident. It had kept her awake in the night. She wished it was their wedding she was sorting out, not this bloody nightmare couple’s. Before the customers started piling in for the day, she’d give Lucy a call, and see how they were getting on.
But first, Ellie quickly looked in on the tearooms. Irene had just arrived and was busy baking; a couple of Victoria sponges by the looks of it. Her fresh strawberries and cream filling was going down a treat with the summer visitors; perfect with a cup of Earl Grey, or Darjeeling. Ellie had extended