Chapter Twelve #3
She popped her head round the door five minutes later to say goodbye, a smart felt hat pulled over her ‘blue rinse’ to protect it from all weathers.
‘I’ll find out the name of those relatives, Caroline. It’ll vex me until I recall it, but I daresay Doris will remember … she never forgets a thing I tell her. She’s just like an elephant …’
We couldn’t help but chuckle at that when she’d gone, and Ellen said she was very pleased I’d discovered such an exciting piece of information regarding my favourite author. It only remained to find out which particular set of relatives they’d been.
Piers was only delayed by half an hour, after all, and I’m relieved to note that so far he’s made a good impression. Ellen fussed over him the whole time, treating him as if he were a small child instead of a grown man of twenty-nine.
‘Such a long way to come by yourself, I hope the journey hasn’t worn you out. I know Caroline is anxious to be out and having fun - she’s been having a hard time of it, lately, with no one to take her out anywhere.’
He looked as if he were quite used to it, and at one point rolled his eyes at me when she wasn’t looking.
I had to bite my lip to stop myself smiling.
After Ellen spent the first hour going on and on about how we should waste no time in getting to know one another, Piers suggested we venture out and find a coffee somewhere.
I must admit it was a relief to leave the house.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said, after we’d tramped through the wet snow as far as Pulteney Bridge, ‘I expect you’re getting used to it now. Aunt Ellen’s heart is in the right place, though she just can’t help herself from interfering.’
We looked at one another and both laughed. I knew then that we were going to get along just fine.
‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I shouldn’t have laughed. Ellen’s been marvellous, and so kind to give me this trip to Bath.’
‘But, she hasn’t found you a boyfriend yet, or worse, got you engaged to be married, and she’s hoping I might do the job before Christmas.’
‘I think that’s the general idea.’
‘Well, Caroline, let me be the first to reassure you that’s not going to happen, and I hope we can now be good friends.’
I laughed again. ‘Oh, Piers, I do hope so.’
‘Now, what shall we do? Coffee first or shall we hit the antique shops? I want a dear little Georgian trio to take home for my friend Simon. I wish he could have come with me - he’d love it here.
He’s got such a lovely collection of white and gilt, that I’m determined to find him a piece or two to add to it. ’
‘Is that your friend the dancer? Ellen mentioned him.’
‘Yes, that’s right, he’s currently starring in Ipi Tombi at Her Majesty’s Theatre so he can’t get away very easily. I’ve been to see it three times already.’
‘I’d love to see the show - I hear it’s had fabulous reviews.’
‘Well, when you’re back in London we must arrange it, and you can meet Simon. He loves it when friends come to see him, especially if we stand at the stage door afterwards, like adoring fans. So, which is it to be, coffee or treasure?’
‘The market and the antique shops first, do you think? And then perhaps we can find a spot of lunch.’
We headed off for the market first where we found someone selling jewellery and a few porcelain pieces, but nothing quite as old as the kind of trio that Piers was talking about.
Going on to Guinea Lane proved much more successful and here we were spoiled for choice.
He found exactly what he was looking for, a white and gilt tea cup and coffee can with a matching saucer, and when the precious items were wrapped in newspaper and carefully placed in a carrier bag we headed back out into the sharp cold air.
We went on into the centre of town, to a little café in Northumberland Place, that turned out to be a little faded and old-fashioned.
The bell above the door tinkled when we walked in, and we sat in the bow window where a jumbled collection of stale cakes on glass tiered stands and a variety of browning cake boxes vied for space on the shelf in front of us, along with two or three dead flies.
And because it was so quiet in the shop it was a bit difficult to rush out again in horror, especially as the waitress appeared very promptly.
Dressed in a black dress and grubby frilled apron she took our order, licking her pencil before jotting it down on her notepad, while struggling simultaneously with a white lace cap that seemed unable to stop from flopping in her eyes.
We both chose Welsh rarebit, and then because it turned out to be a lot better than we feared, we followed that up with scones and jam, forgoing the cream which was a lot worse than we’d hoped, as it appeared to have clotted far too long ago.
The scones were a bit hard, and we were both laughing about breaking our teeth, when a figure outside the window caught our attention.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, just two feet in front of me was the last person I expected to see.