“No, Mummy. Wendy’s my new friend. She said that one day I can go to her house to play with her dollies and her rat.”
“She has a rat?”
“Yes, his name is Ratty. Can I have a milkshake please, Mummy?”
“We don’t have any in the house.”
“They sell them in there.” She pointed to Tweaking Tea Rooms. “My friend, Jackie, says the milkshakes in there are the best in the world. Can we, please?”
I turned to Jack. “Have you been in there before?”
“No, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t treat ourselves. Are you okay for time?”
“Yeah. I don’t have to be at Freda Pearldiver’s until one o’clock.”
“Come on, then.” He took Florence’s hand. “Let’s go and get you that milkshake.”
The small tea room was all brass kettles, lace curtains and doilies. We’d no sooner stepped through the door than a young woman, wearing a black dress and white apron, came scurrying over to us.
“Good morning. Welcome to Tweaking Tea Rooms. Would you like a window table? They’re very popular, but we do have one free at the moment.”
I glanced around at the empty shop.
“Yes, please, that would be great,” Jack said.
We’d just sat down and hadn’t even had a chance to pick up the menus before the waitress pounced. “What can I get for you?”
“Could you give us a minute while we decide?” I said.
“Err, yes, of course.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder at a woman, seated on a stool in front of the counter. She had grey hair with purple highlights and looked quite ferocious.
I had assumed the waitress would come back once we’d had chance to decide what we wanted, but instead she continued to hover close by.
“Are you ready to order yet?”
I was just about to tell her to back off when Florence piped up, “I’d like a strawberry milkshake, please.”
“Do you have those?” Jack asked.
“Yes, we do lots of different flavours of milkshake.” The waitress glanced again over her shoulder.
She was beginning to freak me out, so I asked, “Is everything okay?”
After another quick glance over her shoulder, she leaned forward and whispered, “That’s Miss Drinkwater, the boss, she gets annoyed if we don’t take the orders quickly. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’ll just have a cup of tea, please.”
“Tea for me, too,” Jack said.
“Would you like anything to eat?” the waitress asked.
“Can I have a bun, please, Mummy.” Florence gave me that cute little smile of hers. The one I could never say no to.
“What kind of cakes do you have?” I asked.
“They’re all in the display cabinet over there. Why don’t you come and have a look?” The waitress held out her hand for Florence.
I decided I’d better go with them, in case Florence tried to choose the biggest cake in the cabinet.
What do you mean, like mother like daughter?
As we walked across the shop, the woman at the counter fixed us with her gaze. I thought if I introduced myself it might defrost her a little.
“Hi, I’m Jill Maxwell. That’s my husband, Jack, over at the table, and this is our daughter, Florence. We live in the old watermill.”
“Pleased to meet you, I’m sure. I’m Marcy Drinkwater. I’m the owner of this establishment.”
“It’s the first time we’ve been in here.”
“How long have you lived in Middle Tweaking?”
“Just a couple of months.”
“And this is your first visit to the tea room?”
“Err, yeah. Sorry.” For reasons I can’t explain, I felt as though I needed to justify myself. “We’ve been rather busy, as you can imagine.”
“Hmm. I’ve been running this tea room for almost twenty-five years now. You won’t find a better cup of tea or coffee in a twenty-mile radius.”
“Right.”
“Has Marian taken your order?”
“Yes, I have, Miss Drinkwater.” The waitress sounded even more nervous. “The little girl is just deciding what bun she’d like.”
Florence’s eyes were as big as saucers, as she surveyed the cakes on offer. “Can I have that one please, Mummy?” She pointed to a cake with icing and a small chocolate flake on top.
“The flake cake?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay. And Jack and I will have scones with jam and cream, please.”
“Have you written all that down, Marian?” Marcy Drinkwater snapped.
“I’m just doing it now, Miss Drinkwater.”
“Be quick about it. There are other people to serve, you know.”
I glanced again around the shop, which was still empty.
“She’s a bit much, isn’t she?” Jack said in a whisper once we were back at the table.
“You’re not kidding. I feel really sorry for that poor girl. Fancy having to work for that ogre.”
Having the ‘ogre’ stare at us while we were eating was a little off-putting, but the tea was very good, and the scones were to die for.
“Did you enjoy your milkshake?” Jack asked Florence.
“It was yummy.” She had a pink milk moustache.
“What about the bun?” I said. “You haven’t eaten very much of it.” She’d eaten the icing, the chocolate flake, and maybe a few crumbs of the cake itself.
“I’m full, Mummy.”
Suddenly, Miss Drinkwater was standing next to our table. How had she got there? I hadn’t seen her move.
“Is there something wrong with that cake, young lady?” she snapped.
I stepped in. “The cake is fine, Miss Drinkwater. Florence just isn’t very hungry at the moment.”
“Very well.” She snatched the plate from the table, huffing to herself all the way back to the counter.
We were just getting ready to leave when another couple, clearly tourists, came through the door. They’d no sooner stepped foot inside than Marian ushered them to a table and asked if they were ready to place their order.
“Is it just me?” Jack said, when we were back at the house.
