Time to Move On (6 page)

‘Connie never goes out without a picnic,’ Stella explained after
introductions
.

The place was warm even though the fire could not have been lit for long. Seranne wandered in and out of the rooms in a dream. There were a couple of beds and a wardrobe left by a previous tenant. Curtains were in place and the bedroom floors were covered with linoleum. Downstairs the floors were large slabs of Welsh slate and Seranne thought that only
one or two rugs were needed to make it perfect. It was a heavenly place. From the kitchen window, she looked out on woodland on the opposite side of the lane just waiting to be explored, and at the front of the house facing away from the lane, there was a surprisingly neat and orderly garden.

‘My Colin helps with the garden,’ Stella said proudly. ‘Him and Bob Jennings. Bob and Kitty will be your neighbours on the lane.’

Seranne was amused at the way she had stumbled by chance on the place. But when she said so, Stella shook her head, ‘No, not by chance. This house invited you. Chooses its tenants it does.’

Seranne smiled at the bit of whimsy and turned to Connie and Geoff aware of a bubble of excitement welling up inside her. ‘If you’ll have me, I’d love to live here.’

‘We’ll lend you a few pieces of furniture to get you started,’ Connie said with a warm, friendly smile.

‘I certainly won’t need more chairs, there seems to be plenty of those left by the previous tenant,’ Seranne said, pointing at the row against the living-room wall. ‘Enough to open a café of my own!’

‘Oh, they’ll come in handy,’ Connie replied. ‘Badgers Brook is a friendly house.’ Having agreed the rent, the only thing left was to apply for the vacancy at the café, which she still hadn’t properly seen. She hoped it was more exciting than the view she’d had from across the road before being soaked by that careless driver.

They and their bicycles were given a lift back in Geoff and Connie’s van, which smelled strongly of paraffin, and Stella and Connie went with her to look through the window of the café. The place was a long way from the beautiful tea rooms she and her mother ran. Tables covered with American cloth that was easily wiped clean, chairs scuffed and of several different styles. The walls were painted cream, but apart from a mirror to enable those in the kitchen to see the tables, bore no decoration. She wondered sadly whether she could work in such a place.

She went to the bakery opposite to tell Babs her news. Small, plump and, rosy cheeked, Babs gave a whoop of delight when she heard her friend would be moving to Cwm Derw. She called her brother Tony and they sat and discussed things until Seranne had missed her last bus. Tony offered to drive her home, but Babs insisted. ‘Tony gets up before four o’clock to start the baking. I’ll drive you,’ she insisted. ‘Fantastic!’ she said as they set off. ‘It’ll be great to have you living near. And, I do think you’re right to leave home and let your mum and Paul get on with their life.’

‘The café doesn’t look inspiring but if I do get the job I might be able to change things, smarten it up.’

Babs shook her head. ‘Mrs Rogers isn’t one to accept change. Mind you, she hasn’t met you yet, has she|!’

When Seranne returned home she looked around their attractive tea rooms with some anxiety. Could she really leave all this and start again in that sad café and live among strangers? Then she called up a picture of the house on the lane and the smiling faces of all but one of the few inhabitants she had met and knew that whatever happened, she would not be among strangers for long. Stella Jones was right, by some
mysterious
way the house had invited her in.

Luke was best forgotten, he was just a foolish, half-formed daydream and not important. She seethed when she remembered the soaking, and the embarrassment of his undisguised amusement. Her coat needed
dry-cleaning
and she hoped the unsympathetic onlooker would soon suffer the same fate.

She went back the following day after a phone call and met the café manager, Mrs Rogers, who offered her the job. ‘From what you tell me your present position is a bit more glamorous than this place, so don’t expect me to provide tablecloths and fancy cakes. It doesn’t attract that kind of customer,’ Mrs Rogers said warningly.

Seranne was about to suggest that a little improvement would
encourage
a few more people through the door, but she stopped in time. This wasn’t the moment. Taking things slowly she could do a lot more and besides, she didn’t want to lose the job within minutes of being offered it!

‘We buy bread and cakes from Hopkins’s bakery and when there’s time I sometimes make a few scones.’

‘I can do that. Scones are one of my specialities.’

‘Scones we sell but specialities are not on the menu. Right?’

She went to see Geoff and Connie at their ironmonger’s store to pay her first week’s rent and found them both serving customers at the worn wooden counter. To her annoyance, one of the women waiting to be served was the woman who had witnessed her soaking the previous day. She waited, staring at her until she saw her, then glared and turned quickly away.

‘She’s the woman who was so rude to me when I got soaked by that thoughtless driver,’ she hissed.

‘That’s Mrs Williamson-Murton. She’s very unhappy. Don’t let her worry you,’ Connie said.

‘But she was blaming me! I got soaked! I was the one expecting
sympathy
and she blamed me,’ Seranne insisted.

‘She lost two of her three sons,’ Connie explained. ‘How can she cope with such tragedies? Go in and make a cup of tea, we’ll join you as soon as we’ve finished serving.’

‘But there was no need to be so rude!’ Seranne pushed past two women customers, still irritated by Connie’s apparent lack of sympathy, as a man standing at the counter picked up his order and faced her.

‘Nice to see you again, Miss Laurence,’ said Luke, with a solemn expression. ‘Eggs, water, you do have fun.’

She looked about to explode and he looked away, and it wasn’t until he left the shop that he showed amusement. Seranne Laurence was
attractive
, but really pompous.

Inside, before she went through into Connie’s kitchen, Seranne glared at his departing back.

Back in Jessica’s Victorian Tea Rooms, Jessie and Paul were discussing Seranne’s hastily made decision.

‘Don’t worry,’ Paul said, ‘it’s probably a brief defiant gesture. She’ll be back in a week or so. She’ll miss you too much to stay away.’

‘If she doesn’t, I’ll need some help,’ Jessie said. ‘I can’t run this place alone. And even if it is only for a few weeks, I’ll need an assistant, and an experienced one too.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Paul said.

Jessie ignored his offer, an amateur was not what she needed. ‘I’ll ring the employment exchange and see if there’s anyone available.’

An hour later she had interviewed two girls and taken them both on promising to choose one of them at the end of a week. She still hoped that Seranne would be back and she wouldn’t need either of them.

Paul’s thoughts didn’t echo Jessie’s. He hoped Seranne would stay away. She would interfere with his plans for the future – a future that didn’t include a dated, old-fashioned tea rooms.

Leaving Connie at the shop, Geoff took Seranne to Badgers Brook and with pencil and paper she made a list of what she would need. ‘Bedding, cutlery and china, cooking utensils. My mother will probably help me with enough to start with. After all, there’ll only be me.’

‘Maybe, but don’t be surprised if you need more. Badgers Brook loves visitors.’

More whimsy, she thought with a smile.

A week later she moved in. Her mother and Paul brought a car
loaded with necessities including some food to help fill her pantry. It was late when they arrived and too dark for her mother to see anything of the area. They did find Gwenny Flint’s fish and chip shop open, and they sat in the kitchen of her new home and enjoyed their first meal.

Seranne wanted her mother to look around the house, get the feel of it, love it as much as she did, but Paul was impatient to leave and she was suddenly alone, in a house with only gaslight in a few rooms, and candles to light her way to bed. It was frightening and at first she wondered if she would manage even one night there. She made a hot drink and sat by the remnants of the fire and sleep began to overcome her. Locking the doors, pulling on the chain to put out the gaslights, she made her way up the stairs, undressed and slept soundly until morning.

She had arranged to start at the café the following week, planning to spend a few days settling in and exploring the neighbourhood. First on her list was to register with a grocer’s shop for her food ration.

Mrs Harvey welcomed her and prepared her first week’s food ration. When she saw the amount of food she would have to survive on she was shocked. The whole amount didn’t fill a dinner plate. Having left all that to her mother she had no idea of how amazing the women were who had coped with shortages since 1940. She decided that most of her meals would be taken at the café!

Twice more Paul left Jessie in the tea rooms and drove to Cwm Derw with more of Seranne’s belongings and every time she watched him leave, Jessie felt more dismayed. Any hope of an immediate return seemed less and less likely. Of the two girls she had employed, one seemed vaguely possible although she would need training, but she didn’t want her there, she wanted Seranne back.

Paul comforted her and tried to help. He persuaded her that an older, more experienced woman would be a better choice and he introduced her to Pat Sewell, a widow with three children, who had worked in cafés all her working life. Jessie didn’t take to her, she had the feeling the woman would expect a lot of her own ideas to be instigated, her own pushed aside, but Paul was very persuasive and Jessie did love to agree with him, make him feel he was in charge. She hoped one of the two girls she had on trial would do instead but had doubts.

Paul had begun to do the weekly accounts telling her that by taking those off her hands meant she had more time to spend teaching her
individual
ways to the new assistants. Jessie was forced to admit that neither
suited and after Paul’s repeated persuasions, she interviewed and employed Mrs Pat Sewell.

Jessie’s first impressions were confirmed. Mrs Sewell was very
confident
, in fact, even during the original interview she was forceful with her opinions about how Jessica’s Victorian Tea Rooms should be run. Jessie sighed and accepted that Pat Sewell was the best she could hope for at such short notice, and prayed that her daughter would some day return.

After one week in the Cwm Derw café, which she begun to clean and freshen, Seranne offered to paint the chairs on her weekends. She bought paint and brushes from Geoff, explaining what she was doing.

‘Good heavens, haven’t you got enough to do? After moving in, people usually spend weeks changing things around and getting
everything
as they want it.’

‘Not Badgers Brook. It’s perfect. Apart from adding two rugs and all my bits and pieces, there’s nothing more to do.’

‘We’ll come and give you a hand, if you like,’ Connie offered and the following weekend found them in the yard behind the café and, with Mrs Rogers looking on and pointing out where they had ‘missed a bit’, the work was done.

That Mrs Rogers disapproved was in no doubt, but Connie and Geoff made the work fun.

‘I’m hoping the atmosphere will improve if it looks more cheerful,’ Seranne explained to Connie in a whisper. ‘There’s clearly no
encouragement
for customers to relax or stay longer than the time needed to drink their coffee and eat their food. Perhaps Christmas will give us the opportunity to liven things up.’

‘Will you be going home for Christmas?’ Connie asked, as they were cleaning their brushes.

‘Mum’s café is usually very busy right up to Christmas Eve, and she always provides a free meal for people who live alone, on Christmas Day. We have our meal in the evening. So I expect I’ll be needed.’

‘That’s a very kind thought,’ Connie said, her face lighting up. ‘I bet there’ll be plenty offering contributions if we tried it here in Cwm Derw.’

‘Make it a few days before and I’ll be happy to help,’ Seranne said at once.

Later, she was glad she had made the offer. When she made a brief visit home, she found arrangements had been made for several people,
including
Pat Sewell, to help with the charity meal, and her help wasn’t needed. To cover her disappointment, Seranne said, ‘Thank goodness, Mum. You
see I’ve volunteered to help with something similar in Cwm Derw.’ She didn’t explain that the date for the lunch in Cwm Derw would not be the same.

Connie commiserated when she heard. ‘It confirmed that you did the right thing in coming to Cwm Derw. It opened its doors wide and welcomed you in.’

‘And my home has closed its door behind me,’ Seranne replied.

‘No, Seranne. Your home will always be there – if you ever want to go back.’

During the following few weeks many of the local people introduced themselves to Seranne. Kitty and Bob Jennings, who lived next door along the lane called often and left little treats of vegetables, flowers and on occasions a small pie or a cake or two. Betty Connors who ran the Ship and Compass pub knocked on the door one Sunday afternoon bringing cakes and hinting about a cup of tea. They were followed by Stella Jones from the post office with her husband Colin and their little terrier, Scamp. Seranne soon realized what Connie had meant about the large number of chairs.

Betty explained that the place had always been a regular place for local people to ‘drop in’. ‘But if you don’t want that, you only have to tell us, mind.’

‘Heavens, I need you all,’ Seranne assured her. ‘I love being among friends.’ Risking being laughed at she added, ‘And in some funny way I know the house likes to be filled with people.’

‘It never takes a new tenant long to learn that,’ Connie said.

‘When I worked with my mother there was never any time to meet friends. We were in the tea rooms from Monday to Saturday and Sundays were filled with preparations for the week ahead. Now I leave the café at six and forget about it until the following morning, I’d be lost if I sat here all alone every evening,’ Seranne said. She marvelled at how her life had changed. While she had shared responsibility for Jessica’s Victorian Tea Rooms, she would never have imagined having such a social life, or living in a house where everyone immediately felt at home.