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

She went out to the hallway. Jeez! They hardly needed freezers out here, it was bitterly cold. She opened the lid of one of them. Jesus Christ! What the hell was that? She dropped the lid down in shock, pinching her finger in the seal. ‘Shit!’ Then raised it slowly again, just a few centimetres, peering in tentatively. Well, that certainly wasn’t loaves of bread or spare milk!

Antlers – it was friggin’ antlers! Attached to fur and a head. Some poor deer, by the looks of it, its head sealed in a clear plastic bag. What the hell? It made her feel sick. Bambi’s bloody dad was stuck in her freezer. What was with this place and deer? Ice Age Bambi on steroids in the tearooms and now this. At least it wasn’t a human body, she mused. Well, that was certainly going on Joe’s list for the one o’clock meeting: freezer space, why the hell is there a beheaded deer in what I presume is one of the tearoom freezers, and please can it be removed to make way for my paninis and spare milk? Back to the task in hand. The disinfectant was beginning to smart her eyes by the end of the third wall. She was sure she’d reek of it. She was going to mop the lino floors with some bleach next, and then she’d have another cup of tea and add some more to that list.

Deana popped her head around the door. ‘Hi, Ellie, how’s it all going?’

‘Not bad thanks. I’m on a major cleaning session.’ She clambered down off her ladder, happy to have a short break. Ellie mentioned the visitor records. It was a relief to find they did take that information, and Deana promised to get it ready for her in time for her meeting with Joe. One hurdle over at least. But she had a feeling there were going to be plenty more.

‘Have you got time for a quick cuppa?’ Ellie offered.

‘Only if you have, pet. Looks like you’ve got a lot on.’

‘Well, five minutes won’t hurt, and I was ready for a cup anyhow. I’m parched and my tongue tastes of disinfectant.’

‘Okay, then. Thank you.’

Ellie popped the kettle on and set out a teapot for the brew.

‘Deana, do they have any strange habits here I should know about?’ She was still thinking about Bambi’s dad out in the corridor.

‘Oh, yes, for sure. Lord Henry’s often a little quirky, but are there any particular ones you’re interested in?’ Deana had a wry grin on her face.

‘The freezer, that’s all. There’s something unusual in there.’

‘Oh God! He’s not saving stuff for the bloody taxidermist again, is he? What’s he got in there this time?’

Ellie wasn’t even sure what a taxidermist was – not someone who gave you a lift anyhow, but she had a feeling Deana knew exactly what was going on.

‘Animal?’

‘Yep.’

‘Which?’

‘Deer. A stag I think.’

‘Ah, it’ll be for stuffing and wall-mounting, not my kind of thing. But each to their own. It’s a country, hunting thing. But I’ve told him before not to use the bloody tearoom freezers. It probably didn’t fit in his own, that’s all.’

Hunting trophies. Collecting animal heads. That was just weird. Country life was certainly odd!

They had a quick cup of tea and a nice chat, Deana mentioning some of the other castle workers who she might meet in the coming days. Then she said she’d better be getting on, and leave Ellie in peace.

‘Just give me a shout if you need anything, though. Ring a nine for the office.’

‘Okay, thanks, Deana. Will do.’

Then Ellie set herself away with the mop and bucket once more.

It was five to one, and she realised she hadn’t had any lunch and her whole body was aching. She still had the two ovens to clean, the microwave, and then all the working surfaces needed a thorough going-over with antibacterial spray. But it’d have to wait till later in the afternoon now. She needed to see Joe – armed with her million and one questions. She peeled off her rubber gloves, already with a sticky leak in the right index fingertip, and set off across the courtyard, up the stairs, past her own room and up again.

Standing before the Private Keep Out sign, it dawned on her, unfortunately just after she had knocked, that she was wearing an old tracksuit sporting bleach marks and her hair was scraped back in a ponytail. Damn.

His ‘Come in’ was formal. He was on the phone as she went in, so she took the seat opposite him quietly and looked around the room, pretending not to be listening in. It was more modern than Lord Henry’s office, the desk more like something from Ikea than the Georgian period. The room was tidy, there was a small grey-and-brown tartan sofa set to one side, the desk with in-tray, laptop, phone and pen, his black leather chair, and another comfy black chair where she sat down. The shelves on the back wall held a neat selection of books: Business Management , Stately and Country Homes , a few crime thrillers, mountaineering, skiing, no Batman annuals that she could see – hah! There was a door ajar off to another room. She wondered if he had a suite, and if that might lead to his private quarters.

His voice raised. She turned her focus back to him. He looked rather stern. ‘What do you mean you can’t come until Friday? That’s too late. We’re open then. The contract clearly states you would be here to do the work on the Wednesday.’ He listened a while, raising his eyebrows in frustration at Ellie as a tinny voice rattled on. Then Joe stated, calmly but with a don’t-mess-with-me tone, ‘Look, I don’t care what your issues are at that end, I need the service I have paid you for and I need it by Wednesday afternoon at the latest. Ring me back when you’ve sorted it out.’

He switched off the phone, looking right at Ellie, ‘Incompetent buggers.’

Ellie broke into a nervous smile. She wondered if she might be placed in that category very swiftly, especially when he realised she didn’t have a clue about how much food to order in.

‘Right, sorry, we’ve a lot to go over, haven’t we?’ Luckily his grumpy mood had dissipated, and he seemed fairly patient with her as she ran though her long list of queries. He had questions to ask her too: yes, she had organised the public liability insurance, costing her an arm and a leg , yes, she’d contacted the two existing waitresses, who were coming in tomorrow afternoon to make themselves known to her, and to chat about their role.

He brought out two sheets of A4. ‘The admissions figures for the Easter weekend last year. Deana said you wanted them?’ His last comment came out as a question.

She gulped back a little knot in her throat; did she dare explain her ordering dilemma? But surely it was better to be honest now than cock up the whole launch weekend by either over- or under-ordering.

He was gazing intently at her, as if he was waiting for her to say something. Eventually he spoke first, ‘And you’ve got the phone number for Breakers, the suppliers, haven’t you?’

‘Yes,’ her voice was timid, on the brink of her revelation that she was an incompetent fraud.

His dark eyes fixed hers.

‘Okay,’ she started tentatively, ‘I have a bit of a confession, I’m really not sure what quantities to order in.’ So there it was, her lack of catering experience out in the open. He’d probably rue his decision now; they’d have a dreadful Easter, the food would run out and he’d be left handling numerous complaints … She could see it all now. He’d have to cancel her contract and that’d be it.

‘I see.’ He ran his fingers through his dark floppy fringe and let out a slow sigh, a look of concern crossing his brow. ‘Ellie, I thought you had experience in catering? You’d certainly led us to believe that in the interview.’ He paused, while she sat feeling more and more uncomfortable. ‘Well, those figures will tell you who came into the castle but not who ate at the tearooms or what they ate. I’m afraid I don’t have the details of the previous tenant’s ordering.’ He held her gaze, then continued, ‘We really need the tearooms to run well over Easter. It’s the reputation of the castle that’s at stake.’