Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

FRIDAY 8TH DECEMBER

‘So how are the plans going for the tearoom?' Jean Davenport asked, her voice low. She and Florrie were in the reading room, preparing for a school visit later that afternoon. Leah was at the front of the shop, looking after customers.

‘Oh, my goodness, Jean, it's so exciting but there's such a lot to think about.' Florrie beamed, adding another chair to the semi-circle she was setting out. ‘Ouch!' She winced, the muscles in her back giving a painful twinge.

‘Ooh, are you okay, lovey?'

‘Mm.' Florrie nodded, massaging the protesting muscles and mustering up a smile. ‘I'm fine, thanks, Jean. It's nothing serious, just my body reminding me about our ice-skating escapades yesterday. Ed and I are both suffering for it.'

‘Ah, I see.' Jean chuckled. ‘Well, you take it easy, no point in aggravating things.'

‘You're not wrong.' Despite her nagging muscles, Florrie was eager to continue the tearoom conversation with her friend. ‘Ed and I have been chatting loads about the tearoom, and I've been jotting down all our ideas and what we need to do. Honestly, I've never had so many lists!' She laughed. Florrie was an ardent list-maker and always had at least one on the go at any given time.

‘Ooh, now that I can believe,' Jean said knowingly. ‘And it's great to hear that young Edward is so enthusiastic about it.'

‘I've honestly never seen him so fired up and excited about anything. I mean, he's absolutely brilliant with everything he does with the window displays and the creative side of things for the bookshop, but this new venture has really got a grip of him.'

‘Ah, I'm absolutely thrilled for you, lovey.'

‘Hmm.' Florrie's face clouded.

‘Whatever's the matter?'

Florrie paused for a moment, wrestling with the idea of vocalising something that had been preying on her mind. ‘It's just, as much as I love the idea of the tearoom and am totally on board with having one upstairs, I'm worried about the cost.' She pulled a regretful face. ‘I really don't want to put the dampeners on Ed's enthusiasm, but I'd hate for us to get into financial difficulties and find ourselves in a position where we have to end up selling the bookshop.'

Jean looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘You're wise to be cautious, lovey, but do you really think creating a tearoom upstairs would be so costly, especially with your dad and Bear doing the building work?'

Florrie drew in a deep breath. ‘There's a chance it could. We haven't got as far as getting quotes, but there's the kitchen to consider.' She went on to explain about the type of kitchen and equipment they'd need, and the added expense of suitable washrooms, not to mention cutlery and crockery. ‘And not forgetting there's Alex's fee to add on to that, though he did say he'd get us mates' rates, too, which is really kind of him. Even so, I'm just scared there's potential for it all to get out of hand and for the costs to spiral out of control. And I daren't even start thinking about how we'd manage to pay suppliers and staff.' Florrie puffed out a deep breath; she felt suddenly overwhelmed by it all.

What she'd kept to herself was the phone call from Peter Harte and how Ed appeared to be searching for something in the attic. The more she thought about it, the more she couldn't help but think the two things must be connected in some way. It wasn't helped by the fact that Ed had surreptitiously sloped off when they'd gone to bed last night. She hadn't been asleep long when she'd been woken by the sound of boxes being dragged around above her, cupboard doors clicking shut, Ed muttering to himself. Whatever was going on had resurrected her misgivings. Florrie would love nothing more than to share her worries with Jean, get her wise friend's take on things, but since she'd heard Ed's father mention her name down the phone, she had a horrible feeling Jean was connected in some way. Though she couldn't for the life of her think how. What she didn't want to happen was for her and Ed to put themselves in a financially precarious position, and for him to decide the bookshop was no longer for him. The mere thought sent nausea churning around her stomach.

Jean, who'd been listening intently while Florrie spoke, gave a sympathetic smile. ‘I completely understand where you're coming from. Bernard and Dinah would be very pleased to hear you were being sensible about it, of that I have no doubt. But if you want my opinion, I'd find out how much everything is going to cost, as close to the actual price as you can get it, and then put serious thought into whether it's a viable option for you and Ed. After all, it wouldn't be the end of the world if you had to do it in stages, or put it off for a while, would it?'

Florrie hadn't thought of that. ‘Hmm. I s'pose not.' Since Mr H had passed away, it had always felt good to run things by Jean, particularly matters relating to the bookshop. Her friend often provided ideas or solutions that Florrie hadn't even stopped to consider. ‘And at least we'd already have the perfect staircase,' she said, brightening. They could afford to buy that, and she was sure Nate would keep it in storage for them if necessary.

‘You see, no need to worry, lovey, problem solved. I often find if you look hard enough you can find a solution. I'm sure I don't have to remind you it was something Bernard and Dinah always used to say when faced with a problem.' Jean smiled kindly at her. ‘I've held those words close since I first heard them as a young lass.'

Florrie's heart pinched at the mention of Ed's grandparents, and the reason they'd had to use those words in context with Jean. But now she thought about it, Jean was right, and so were Mr and Mrs H. She would put her misgivings about Ed to one side and focus on their tearoom plans.

Florrie had relayed the conversation she'd had with Jean to Ed as they were stacking the chairs, lining them up against the wall, after the visit by the school children – doing that made it easier to vacuum the carpet which was invariably messy after an event. Gerty was curled up by the radiator, glossy black head on paws, watching as they worked. It didn't escape Florrie's notice that Ed had looked disappointed when she'd suggested the option of putting the tearoom idea on hold or even doing it in stages if they thought it was going to stretch them financially. She'd felt like a total killjoy.

‘I'd be as gutted as you if we had to do that,' Florrie said, meaning it. ‘But I've been brought up to be careful with money and not to bite off more than I can chew. Even though Samphire Cottage was a bargain, it needed a lot of work doing to it, and I thought long and hard about whether I could afford it.'

Ed stacked the last of the chairs, turning to face her. Closing the gap between them, he rested his hands on her shoulders and dipped his head to meet her gaze. ‘I totally get where you're coming from with the financial implications, I wouldn't want us to end up in a mess either, but it doesn't mean to say we can't consider it at least.'

Relief pushed a smile onto Florrie's face, though she still felt torn. The way her mind was working, it felt like his words were contradicting his actions. She wished he could let go of his habit of keeping worries to himself. It was all so confusing.

‘How about we get the figures sorted, then take it from there?' he said, smiling back, his eyebrows raised in question.

‘I like that idea.' Florrie pushed her doubts away; she was glad he didn't think she was being a killjoy. She wanted him to know she was as keen as him on the tearoom idea. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, the soft feel of his lips against hers sending any lingering doubts scurrying away. His arms slid around her, pulling her close. She took a moment to savour the comforting warmth of his body, wishing she could feel this way all the time.