11 The Teashop on the Corner Read Free Page B

of sympathy welling up within her for the older woman. If what she was saying was
true then what a terrible shock she must have had too.
    ‘Julie . . .’
    Julie snarled at the pity in her voice and stabbed her finger at Carla. Her momentary lapse in composure was over. ‘Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. And don’t you think
you’re going to take his ashes. They’re mine. He was my husband and I fucking want them. Every single one of them.’
    And with that, Julie Pride and her posh black handbag, her swingy coat and brazen red shoes clipped out of the vestry and boldly walked down the aisle. Carla listened to the sound diminishing,
heard the heavy church door crash shut and then realised that her body didn’t have a single clue how to react.

Chapter 4
    As Shaun McCarthy drained the last of the coffee from his cup, he watched the woman with the spiky dark brown hair tip her watering can over the brightly coloured flowers
sprouting from the boxes in front of the teashop windows and thought of the cover of an old Enid Blyton book he had once had, with an elf on it. That’s what
she
reminded him of: a
fragile little creature with wings hidden under her bright blue pinafore dress. He was too far away to hear, but he bet she was humming as she watered the plants. And smiling. She was always
smiling, as if she had been born with a natural upturn to her lips.
Ms Leonora Merryman.
One of those infuriating people for whom life was filled with confetti, sparkles and fairies, no
doubt. Her glass wasn’t just constantly half-full but fizzed out coloured sprinkles as well. He suspected that despite being around the mid-thirties mark, she would have a collection of My
Little Ponies in cabinets at home.
    Still, it didn’t matter. As long as she paid her rent for the shop on time, he’d be equally happy as she was, if not as outwardly smiley; and there was no reason other than business
for their paths to cross. She was initially on a six month lease, although he had given her one month gratis in exchange for decorating the place, because she had wanted to do it herself and at her
own expense. He suspected that she would terminate the lease at the end of the period rather than renew it. He’d hardly seen any customers in there since it opened a month ago and surely she
needed footfall through the door to make a living? Any idiot knew that. Still, he’d been fair on the rent seeing as she was the first of the businesses in this quadrangle of shops to open up:
Spring Hill Square. The second unit was finished – although the least said about that, the better – and they had now started on the third. The other four units weren’t finished
but there had been a few enquiries about them. He’d said no to the couple who wanted to open a sex shop. He was, after all, a good Irish Catholic boy with guilt and honour issues, as well as
being a savvy businessman.
    The Teashop on the Corner
. ‘It’s a sort of literary café,’ she had told him. No doubt Leonora (‘
Oh do call me Leni
’) thought she was in
Oxford or St Andrews, and the erudite and scholarly types would be queuing up at her door every morning demanding their skinny lattes. He wondered if he should be the one to inform her that they
were actually in a small backwater outside Barnsley on land which had been a real shit tip until Shaun had bought it to turn into his empire. He’d had to demolish an old wire factory and
level the ground, which had cost a small fortune; but he hoped it would be worth it, cashing in on the increased trade which passed by en route to Winterworld, a Christmas theme park only a few
miles down the road.
    Ms Merryman had had a lot of furniture delivered. He kept seeing the vans turning up and men carrying it in. He’d peered through the window a few times when she’d gone home. The
walls were now delicate shades of cream and shell pink and around three edges of the room were runs of glass cabinets full, from what he could