The Cosy Teashop in the Castle: The bestselling feel-good rom com of the year. Caroline Roberts
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back to him. He looked rather stern. ‘What do you mean you can’t come until Friday? That’s too late. We’re open then. The contract clearly states you would be here to do the work on the Wednesday.’ He listened a while, raising his eyebrows in frustration at Ellie as a tinny voice rattled on. Then Joe stated, calmly but with a don’t-mess-with-me tone, ‘Look, I don’t care what your issues are at that end, I need the service I have paid you for and I need it by Wednesday afternoon at the latest. Ring me back when you’ve sorted it out.’
He switched off the phone, looking right at Ellie, ‘Incompetent buggers.’
Ellie broke into a nervous smile. She wondered if she might be placed in that category very swiftly, especially when he realised she didn’t have a clue about how much food to order in.
‘Right, sorry, we’ve a lot to go over, haven’t we?’ Luckily his grumpy mood had dissipated, and he seemed fairly patient with her as she ran though her long list of queries. He had questions to ask her too: yes, she had organised the public liability insurance, costing her an arm and a leg, yes, she’d contacted the two existing waitresses, who were coming in tomorrow afternoon to make themselves known to her, and to chat about their role.
He brought out two sheets of A4. ‘The admissions figures for the Easter weekend last year. Deana said you wanted them?’ His last comment came out as a question.
She gulped back a little knot in her throat; did she dare explain her ordering dilemma? But surely it was better to be honest now than cock up the whole launch weekend by either over- or under-ordering.
He was gazing intently at her, as if he was waiting for her to say something. Eventually he spoke first, ‘And you’ve got the phone number for Breakers, the suppliers, haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ her voice was timid, on the brink of her revelation that she was an incompetent fraud.
His dark eyes fixed hers.
‘Okay,’ she started tentatively, ‘I have a bit of a confession, I’m really not sure what quantities to order in.’ So there it was, her lack of catering experience out in the open. He’d probably rue his decision now; they’d have a dreadful Easter, the food would run out and he’d be left handling numerous complaints … She could see it all now. He’d have to cancel her contract and that’d be it.
‘I see.’ He ran his fingers through his dark floppy fringe and let out a slow sigh, a look of concern crossing his brow. ‘Ellie, I thought you had experience in catering? You’d certainly led us to believe that in the interview.’ He paused, while she sat feeling more and more uncomfortable. ‘Well, those figures will tell you who came into the castle but not who ate at the tearooms or what they ate. I’m afraid I don’t have the details of the previous tenant’s ordering.’ He held her gaze, then continued, ‘We really need the tearooms to run well over Easter. It’s the reputation of the castle that’s at stake.’
‘I know.’ Her voice was small. She felt terrible.
‘Ellie, I’ve gone out on a limb here to secure you the tearooms’ lease.’ He was frowning.
Okay, well there was no need to be quite so miserable about it. She was new to all this and had never pretended to be Jamie Oliver or anything. ‘I was only asking for a bit of advice.’
He said nothing, just looked at her.
‘Right, well I’ll just find someone else to ask. I do have other contacts.’ She got up to leave. She’d sort it somehow.
‘Ellie,’ his voice stopped her at the door, ‘What I’d suggest is when you call up Breakers, who incidentally supplied us last year as well, you ask if they keep details of back orders and find out exactly what was ordered for last Easter. I’m sure they’ll have that information.’
She felt the heat flush up her neck. Could it really be that easy? And why the hell hadn’t she thought of that? What an idiot. It seemed obvious now. She wondered what he must think of her. Totally inept came to mind. Though his opinion was hard to read. He seemed to have a deeper side to him that shielded his emotions, but at least he was trying to help her, if only to save his own bacon in front of Lord Henry.
‘Oh, and get a little more of everything in just in case,’ his tone lifted. ‘I’ve got a feeling your food’s going to be far more appealing than Mrs Charlton’s last year,’ he added, which made her feel marginally better. ‘Okay, well, if there’s nothing else, I have a rather busy afternoon ahead.’
‘Actually, there is one more thing. I was going to ask you about the freezers. Are they for the tearooms? The ones out in the corridor next to the kitchen.’
‘Oh, yes. They are yours to use.’
‘Right, well, there is a bit of a problem with the far freezer?’ She paused, ‘A problem with antlers on. I mentioned it to Deana when she popped in earlier.’
‘Oh, Christ, it’ll be Henry’s hunting trophies again, for sure. He shot a stag on the estate last month. I bet he’s waiting for the taxidermist to collect it. I’m sorry. I’ll get it moved … I’m never quite sure what he’s going to do next. Eccentric doesn’t cover the half of it,’ he grimaced.
‘Thanks. And look, I–I’m sorry about the confusion with the ordering, I’ll be fine once I get everything up and running.’ She stood, crossing her fingers behind her back.
‘Yes, well let’s hope so.’ He echoed her concerns. His confidence in her had obviously been dented. Well, she’d just have to prove herself, wouldn’t she? Get this first order right. Cook some great food, and keep the customers happy.
‘Right, well, I suppose I’d better get back to my cleaning duties. I’m on to the ovens now.’
‘That won’t be a pleasant job, for sure. Oh, and I hear you’re meeting with the waitresses tomorrow. Best of luck.’ He said no more as she rose to leave.
Hmn, would she be needing luck with that, then?
She’d made a batch of cherry-and-almond scones: a) to test out the kitchen ovens, which seemed to be fine, except the main one had a mind of its own when you were trying to put stuff in or out – the door swinging to a close (she had the burn mark on her forearm to show for it), and b) to offer to Nicola and Doris, her waitressing staff, as a welcome gesture. They were due to appear any minute for a quick hello and general introduction before they started work officially on Friday morning. Ellie felt nervous; she wasn’t used to dealing with staff, well not as the boss, anyhow, and wanted to appear friendly but also efficient.
She was testing out the ancient filter-coffee machine that looked like a relic from the seventies, when there was a brusque knock on the teashop door.
‘Come on in,’ she called.
A fifty-something, short-but-wide lady marched in, with brown, grey-tinged hair set in a rounded bob, wrapped up in several layers of winter clothing, followed by a timid-looking girl of no more than nineteen, who was tall, slim, with curtains of straight dark hair that flowed past her shoulders – she had the palest skin.
Ellie smiled and said ‘Hello’ as she offered her hand to greet them, ‘I’m Ellie.’
‘Doris,’ the older lady announced. She took Ellie’s hand with quite some grip, ‘And this is Nicola.’ The young girl didn’t get chance to introduce herself. Her handshake was gentle. As she looked up, Ellie saw she had the most amazing blue eyes; with her dark hair she looked unusual. She had a gothic air about her, and more than a hint of Morticia. Well, they were certainly a contrasting pair. As long as they worked hard for her, that was all that mattered.
‘Right, well, nice to meet you both. I was just trying to work out the coffee machine here. I’ve made some scones. I thought you might like something while we have a quick chat. They’re cherry and almond.’
‘Hmn,’ Doris’s nose was raised, sniffing out change. ‘Vera Charlton used to make sultana or cheese scones, traditional she was,’