Page 44

Chapter 25

‘Cup of tea?’

Alyssa looked up to see Jess’s grandmother, Mrs Halfpenny, sitting outside an allotment shed on one of the two purple wingback chairs Alyssa had previously spied there. So that’s who was in charge of that quirky plot. She should have guessed. The older lady was wearing a top that said ‘Hartglove – Love Is a Bug’ under her thick coat, with a ladybird bobble hat pulled over her blue rinse. A chintzy teapot and two mismatched cups balanced on a rickety table in front of her – because who didn’t conduct solo Mad Hatter’s tea parties next to a barren vegetable plot? The second chair was glaringly empty.

Alyssa winced at the roughly painted words ‘Tea and Sympathy’ on Mrs Halfpenny’s shed, because she hadn’t come here to chat. But Mrs H was beckoning her over and it would be rude not to step closer. Now the sun had disappeared behind a cloud there was a chill in the air. Perhaps they both needed to warm their hands around a cuppa.

Mrs Halfpenny ordered her to put her mouse cage in the shed and grab two blankets. Was she honestly shivering or putting it on? Alyssa could feel her resolve to find some peace and quiet waning. She did as she was told and then moved cautiously to the empty chair.

‘Though I don’t need any …’ Alyssa waved towards the sign’s S-word.

‘Nonsense. It’s not a sympathy chair. Now, sit your skinny bum down.’

Alyssa laughed and sank into the empty chair, pulling one of the blankets over her legs.

‘It’s a truth chair,’ Mrs Halfpenny clarified, with a cheeky smile. ‘And I only invite people who need it. Now pour the tea.’

Alyssa gulped and started pouring. Not that a chair could make a person say anything they didn’t want to, surely? It wasn’t like Mrs H was about to strap her down and spike her in the backside.

‘I like what you’ve done with the place.’ Alyssa nodded at the allotment.

Mrs Halfpenny spluttered out her tea. ‘Now I know you’re telling porkies.’ In fairness, it was pretty bare – other than the odd weed. ‘I come here for tea and company. Sometimes people bring cake.’ She raised her eyebrows towards the Halfpenny’s bag Jess had thrust at her.

Alyssa pulled out a pack of fruit cake slices that Jess must have packed.

Mrs Halfpenny’s eyes lit up. ‘Those will do nicely.’ She commandeered the packet and dished two out.

This wasn’t exactly the solitude Alyssa had been expecting, but it was peaceful, in its own way. The still air and the gentle chink of crockery. The backdrop of blossoming apple trees. Mrs H’s almost inaudible hum of happiness as she ate. Alyssa had never had a close relationship with any of her grandparents, but she remembered different generations coming together in the days when Hartglove Hall had been vibrant. She used to ice cupcakes for the fetes with Devan’s gran, listening to her stories and then stirring the bubbles for her washing up. Being around people who were no longer rushing through life held a certain kind of magic. Like calm for your soul when everything else was cartwheeling.

Alyssa shook her head. What on earth had Mrs H put in this tea?

‘Life can be lonely, when you don’t let people in,’ said Mrs Halfpenny, her hands around her cup, her eyes looking out over her scruffy patch of land. ‘Can’t it?’

Alyssa wasn’t sure where this was coming from, but it felt rude to interrupt.

‘I didn’t do much after Mr Halfpenny died. I shut up the shop and stayed indoors. Didn’t want to speak to people. It was easier that way. Keeping folk at bay, so that if anyone else let me down by snuffing it, it wouldn’t hurt as much. Because it does hurt when people let you down. Even when they don’t mean to.’

The sentiment hung in the air, Alyssa unsure whether her companion was still talking about her departed husband or if she was trying to hint at Alyssa’s past.

‘I’m so sorry to hear about Mr Halfpenny,’ Alyssa said gently, reaching over to put her hand on Mrs Halfpenny’s. ‘I do remember him. You two were lovely together.’

‘Childhood sweethearts.’

If any more poignant words were allowed to rest in the air, Alyssa might let out a sob.

‘It took me a while to start healing after he broke my heart by popping off, God rest him. Not that it was his fault. But let me tell you. The day I decided to let people in and start trusting again.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, that was a good day.’

They squeezed each other’s hands.

‘And I know you’re meant to be Alyssa now,’ the woman said more quietly. ‘But I remember when you were young Beryl. You and Sylvie, always thick as two thieves in a pot of marmalade. You’d come into the shop with your pocket money, sharing a packet of Cherry Drops or hankering over the latest copy of Mizz.’

‘We did love that magazine,’ said Alyssa, the memory of poring over the latest pop stars with Sylvie bringing an unexpected smile to her face.

‘And don’t get me started on that summer when I let you share the paper round.’

Alyssa clapped a hand over her mouth. Sylvie had ridden the bike, with Alyssa on the back, trying to keep hold of the huge bag of newspapers. They’d had so many complaints about lost papers and shredded front pages that Mrs H gave the round to the more reliable Devan.

‘I’m sorry,’ Alyssa said. ‘We weren’t the best at that paper round.’