Caroline Roberts - The Cosy Teashop in the Castle - The bestselling feel-good rom com of the year

In fact, she had liked the films, when she was about twelve. But she just hadn’t expected a superhero crush from him and not at thirty, or whatever age he was. But it made her smile widen, shifting her view of him from the nice, slightly scary and far-too-intelligent boss as per the interviews, to someone far more human. As she shrugged her shoulders with a grin, he ducked for the door. ‘Okay, well, I’ll fetch that heater for you.’

Later that evening, she lay in bed, with her zebra-print onesie on and thick socks. It was bloody freezing in that room – the radiators must go off at night. If she got out of bed, she could put on the electric heater that Joe had brought down for her. But she didn’t fancy getting out at all, the cold air would blast her the minute she lifted that duvet, so she just snuck further down under the quilt, listening to the lonely sound of an owl hooting. There had been a weird cry outside earlier, too, probably a fox or something. It was high-pitched like a baby’s wail. Ooh, she hoped the castle wasn’t haunted – don’t be daft, she chided herself, what a load of old nonsense. Get to sleep, Ells-bells. Jason’s nickname for her floated around in her head. You’ve got a big day ahead.

She lay there thinking, finding it hard to settle. It was nice that Joe had given up his heater for her. She liked him. He actually seemed quite down to earth and approachable, was probably very clever and had a nice smile. She remembered the Batman thing and grinned in the dark. As she thought of him, a warm glow flooded her. It surprised her. It was the first time she had felt that in an absolute age. Oh well, there’d be nothing in it, of course: a) there was no way she was going anywhere near men or relationships for the foreseeable future, and b) he was her landlord and they’d be working together – and getting involved in the workplace was never a good idea, a total no-no in her book. Gemma at work had done the boss thing at her previous workplace – big mistake – ended up having to give up her job in the end, all got far too messy. And the ‘man’ thing, well, she didn’t want to dwell on that. Onwards and upwards, or as bloody far away from all that relationship stuff as possible. Still, a little glow in Joe’s presence might be allowable. Just in terms of eye candy, that was all. But what she really had to concentrate on was getting the teashop venture up and running and making a success of it.

There was just so much to organise: clean the kitchen from top to bottom – main priority tomorrow – then meet up with Joe and go through everything. She’d need to order food in and ingredients, find the local suppliers, check if there was crockery and cutlery to use, buy those oil-cloths she fancied and find some posy vases and a florist to supply flowers, something cheap to cheer up the tearooms, bake like a mad thing, menus – bloody hell, yes, she’d need menus – she’d have to draft something on her laptop, meet the waitressing staff, the list droned on in her fractious mind. And she only had four days in which to do it! Tomorrow was Monday. They opened to the public on Friday at ten o’clock, Good Friday. It’d be Easter weekend and Go, Go, Go! Aaagh! Had she bitten off so much more than she could chew?

She finally got off to sleep in the early hours, to the sounds of the owl hooting away like her night watchman, rain tapping on the glass and the drumming of her heart.

Ellie

She was up a ladder, yellow rubber gloves on, washing down the tiled walls that were grimed with a layer of cooking grease. She’d found an old-fashioned portable radio that had been left on a shelf and had tuned in to Radio 1, and set herself up with a large bucket of steaming water and disinfectant, some all-purpose cloths, a mop, and currently Ellie Goulding as background music.

The check list of to dos was still running through her mind. She needed to plan her menu ASAP. She’d keep it simple for now – test the waters, see what sold, make homemade soups, jacket potatoes, paninis and sandwiches, a selection of her yummiest cakes, scones, yes, and maybe some cookies. Exactly when she was going to actually bake all these before Friday she wasn’t quite sure, but as her baking needed to be fresh she could envisage a very long day and night on Thursday.

She scrubbed away, humming, taking a scourer to the particularly gungey bits. Her mind was back on the food order. What quantities would she need? Bloody hell, she didn’t have a clue. Twenty jacket potatoes, thirty, fifty? Paninis – twelve, thirty-six, seventy-two? She may as well put the numbers in a hat and do a lucky dip. She suddenly felt extremely naïve and unprepared, and had a little wobble on her ladder. Right, focus. She’d check how often the suppliers delivered – see if it was just the weekend she was catering for, and she could ring her friend Kirsty at the café. She’d surely have some idea.

She could speak with Joe, but she didn’t warm to the latter idea, not wanting to appear inept before she even got started. She didn’t want him to regret his decision to back her.

One wall scrubbed and finished, Ellie was on tiptoes by the window, trying to get a signal on her mobile phone.

‘Hi there, Kirsty.’

‘Ellie, is that you? Hi, how’s it all going out in the sticks? Are you up and running yet?’

‘Friday’s D-Day. Look, are you busy? I just need a bit of advice.’

‘No, I’m okay for a sec. My customers are all served. Fire away.’

‘It’s the ordering – likely numbers I’m catering for, what to buy in? I haven’t a flippin’ clue. I can’t believe I’m such a numpty.’ She could hear her mother’s warning tones, I told you so , running in her ears.

‘Ok-ay,’ even Kirsty sounded as though she wondered what the hell Ellie had taken on. ‘Right, well, look you’ve got to get an idea of numbers of customers to start. Decide on your menu, and then I can help with what to order. But yeah, numbers, bums on seats … Did you get any paperwork or accounts when you applied? Can you get figures now?’

‘Umn, well I have the accounts. The Easter figures looked pretty good, but how the hell do you convert pounds profit into how many bloody jacket potatoes and cakes sold?’

‘Hmn, right. Well, they must take a record of visitors to the castle, surely? If I were you, I’d ask if they have some idea how many people tend to call in at the tearooms. It’s worth a try, and should give you some indication at least.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so.’

‘And buy in stuff that won’t spoil too quickly or can freeze. You can even freeze some of the cakes if need be, as soon as you’ve baked them, so they’re nice and fresh. Take them out as you need.’

‘Okay, that sounds a good idea.’

‘Oh, hang on … Yes, sorry, a latte … and a cappuccino, no problems. If you just take a seat I’ll bring them over … Ellie, sorry, I’m going to have to go. Ring me back in a while, and try and get that info.’

‘Will do, thanks.’ Right, she needed to have a word with Joe, or maybe Deana. It looked like Deana took the admissions for the castle; her office was right on the main gate. Ellie was seeing Joe shortly anyhow, but how could she confess to not having a clue about the ordering? Oh well, she’d scrub the next kitchen wall, that’d be two out of the four done, and then make herself a cup of tea. She’d take five minutes time out to think carefully, and write down a list of everything she needed to ask Joe, to get herself organised. Ooh, and she’d have a look and see what kind of freezer and fridge storage they had. She’d noticed a couple of big chest freezers out in the corridor as well as the one in the kitchen; they must be to do with the tearooms.