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.’
‘But you were the best of friends.’
Alyssa’s heart felt strange for a moment. She rubbed it, though that didn’t seem to do the trick.
‘You’ll find her at Clucky Ducks Retirement Home, if you’re brave enough. She volunteers there with the oldies, on a Monday.’
‘No, I …’ Alyssa felt herself squirming in the truth chair. It really wasn’t as comfortable as it looked, if you stayed for too long.
A surprisingly strong hand shot out and clamped itself onto Alyssa’s knee. Ouch.
‘Don’t shut people out, like I once did. Don’t think I haven’t spotted you doing the same with Devan. You and that boy had a special thing. Sparks used to fly off the two of you, like you’d been electrocuted by a wet toaster. And I’m sure it must have stung when he ended up with Sylvie.’
Thanks for the reminder.
‘But that’s the thing about pain,’ Mrs Halfpenny continued, whether Alyssa wanted to hear it or not. ‘If you keep circling around it like a lost idiot on a roundabout, you’ll never get anywhere. You’ve got to face it, head on. You’ve got to go through it.’
‘Like a collision?’
‘Like the brave person you’ve always been, under all that pink hair and fancy mascara. Real life hurts, Miss Heart. But not as much as being a lonely, stubborn goat living in a cow shed for one with a mouse for a best friend.’
‘Two mice,’ Alyssa protested, a little meekly.
‘And I am starting to make more friends, since I arrived here.’ She pointed towards the shop, where she’d just been chatting with Jess and Anna Farina, even if their lovey chat had got a bit too much.
‘I’m even getting on better with Devan. I don’t actively want to cause him grievous bodily harm.
In fact, there are certain times when I look at him, and …
’ Her voice trailed off and she could feel her cheeks reddening. Damn that truth chair.
‘So the story ends there? She loved, she lost, she gave up, the end? Is that what you’d tell one of these people who come to you to have their love life fixed?’
In truth, she barely knew what she might tell a love coach client anymore. Maybe that’s why she was strangely avoiding having any. And perhaps if she stopped ignoring the keys to whatever had been keeping her heart locked, things would become clearer.
Her mum had mentioned there being a lot of rumours surrounding Sylvie and Devan. Devan had said what had happened between them wasn’t his story to tell. Was it Sylvie’s?
‘Going round and round that roundabout is making you dizzy,’ said Mrs Halfpenny, clearly noticing Alyssa’s confused face. ‘Follow the signposts.’
She nodded to a nearby wooden finger post. One of the places it pointed to was Clucky Ducks Retirement.
‘Or you can keep on spinning. It’s not for me to interfere. Obviously.’