‘What are they?’ Tabby peers into the front of the display case as I stand behind it, using tongs to arrange the muffins onto a three-tier stand in the centre.
‘Nutella muffins. Bram and I made them last night.’
‘Don’t you make all of this?’ She waves a hand towards the other things on display, including a coffee walnut cake from the supermarket that I’ve unwrapped and decorated, cherry tarts with added fresh cream and heart sprinkles, and flapjacks with card suits iced onto them.
‘Well, yeah, but—’
‘It’s the first joint effort.’ Bram comes in from out the back and finishes the answer when I get flustered at the slip-up. ‘First time we’ve made something together. The first of many.’
I meet his eyes across the shop and he winks at me, but I feel my cheeks burning under Tabby’s analytical eyes. ‘Would you like one?’
‘Ugh, no, calories!’ She frowns at me with such horror that you’d think I’d offered her a poison apple rather than a chocolate muffin.
‘They’re a trial for Laura’s wedding,’ I say, in case she gets the wrong idea about why Bram and I are making things together.
‘Oh, the wedding!’ She clasps her hands together. ‘It’s going to be a fairy-tale day. I’ve got so much planned for the hen night. I’m doing a pampering session for all the ladies to show them what I’d do at my wellness retreat. The mother of the bride is going to be there. Just about the only person in the universe who has influence over dear daddy Hastings. When she sees what I can offer, she’ll put in a good word for me. Maybe one day we’ll be neighbours on Ever After Street after all.’
‘At least there are no calories in acupuncture needles,’ I say to cover how nervous that makes me. Is she the person who was offered this shop before me? What if Mr Hastings’ wife singing Tabby’s praises and waxing lyrical about literal wax treatments really could influence him into considering that Ever After Street needs a wellness retreat instead of a teashop?
Luckily customers don’t seem to agree because it’s a busy morning – so busy that I have to put Tabby on tea-making duty, and Bram runs himself ragged between bringing dishes to customers and entertaining visitors. He flutters around cards, spinning them, plucking them from mid-air, making things disappear and reappear in different places, tricks that no one can explain logically, and there’s something about his smile when people like what he does. It’s impossible not to watch him, even when I’m supposed to be concentrating on the orders for chicken mayo sandwiches, hot buttered crumpets, and cream teas.
I’m overjoyed when the first person orders a Nutella muffin and a teapot of sparkly tea, and Bram’s eyes are dancing as we both covertly watch her from opposite sides of the tearoom.
Until she digs a fork in and her face contorts in disgust. ‘Excuse me, I think there’s something wrong with this. It’s so salty. I can’t eat it!’
‘Salt?’ I say in confusion as she waves me over.
Bram hurriedly finishes a card trick and comes over too. ‘There’s no salt in it whatsoever.’
‘Oh, there very much is. That’s disgusting!’
My confusion is mirrored on Bram’s face and we give each other a clueless shrug. He takes the muffin away, while I offer the customer something else but end up refunding her entire order when she refuses, looking like she might be scarred for life by the muffin experience.
‘There’s salt in these.’ By the time I’ve finished, Bram’s taken another muffin from the display case, put it on a plate and pulled it apart. ‘Look at that. Those grains in the Nutella and all over the top. Someone’s put salt in this.’
‘How can someone have put salt in it?’ I get a fork out and gather up some of the cake and can’t contain the shudder when I shove it in my mouth. ‘That’s like taking a bite of a tub of Saxa.’ I go to spit the mouthful into the bin, and Bram tries a bit too and quickly follows me.
‘I don’t get it. They weren’t like this last night.’
‘Of course they weren’t like this last night.’ His dark eyes scan the tearoom. ‘Someone’s sabotaged them. Someone’s thrown a load of salt all over them.’
‘No! Who? And why?’
‘Gremlins?’ he suggests seriously.
‘Gremlins?’ I picture the cute creatures from the eighties’ movie. ‘I don’t think we’ve been invaded by gremlins, do you?’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Well, on the off chance that it wasn’t gremlins, there are only three of us here and it wasn’t you or me. That somewhat narrows it down.’
‘Tabby? Why would she do that?’
‘The question isn’t why, the question is whether she’s done it to anything else.’ He’s at the display case, pulling out plates and serving platters and peering at them. ‘No one else has complained about anything, right?’
I shake my head.
‘Then hopefully they’re fine and it was just the muffins because of what we said this morning.’ He scrunches his fingers for a fork, and when I pass one over, he spears one thing after another and puts them in his mouth one at a time before putting the plates back in the display case. ‘They’re fine. So are they, and those.’
‘Why would she do that?’ Tabby is on her lunch break and I can hear her moving around upstairs and repeat my earlier question, unable to believe that anyone would do this on purpose. Maybe an accident that she was too embarrassed to own up to? The thought that this could be deliberate, that there’s someone out there – or, more specifically, in here, who wants to cause this kind of harm sends a shiver down my spine, and makes me feel apprehensive and unsafe, and like I can’t trust anyone.
‘Oh, who knows with that woman. Probably to get at me because she knew I’d had a hand in making them. Trying to convince my father that a wellness retreat would be a better option than a tearoom in this spot. Just trying to make life difficult. The possibilities are endless. This is why they say never work with children, animals, or exes.’
I think about what I thought last night, about someone being offered this space and then having the offer rescinded when I came along. What if that really was Tabby? It’d be something she’d hold against me. Something she’d want revenge for.
‘Want me to go and have it out with her?’ Bram offers.
I glance upwards, where the upstairs floorboards are creaking. ‘No. There’s enough animosity between you already. I’ll talk to her later.’
* * *
‘Salt? I don’t understand. Why would there be salt in them?’ Tabby is either completely clueless about the suspected muffin sabotage, or she could win an Oscar for her innocent look.
‘Someone put it in,’ I say when I corner her in the staffroom before the end of her lunch break.
She regards me for a minute. ‘Oh, and let me guess, Bram suggested it was me.’
‘Well, there are only three of us here and it wasn’t me or him.’ I repeat his words from earlier.
‘Yes, quite convenient. You can’t honestly think I’d be that stupid, can you? Why would I do something that would be so obvious? Don’t you think I’d know that you’d know it was me?’
I go to refute it, but it’s quite a good point actually. There are only three of us here. You’d either have to be totally daft or an evil genius to do something so obvious when you knew you’d be the first suspect, and I don’t think Tabby is either. She’s a bit spoiled, but she’s not stupid and she’s not horribly cruel. I actually think she’s found working with Bram harder than she expected it to be.
‘Maybe a small child got behind the counter when none of us were looking and liberally doused everything with salt. Or maybe you should look a bit closer to home.’ A sinister tone has crept into her sickly-sweet voice.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Well, rather than being blinded by that ridiculous hair and offensively bright jacket, you should take a step back and objectively consider who is most likely to have ruined your muffins. Who made them?’
‘Bram and I did, together.’
‘And you saw everything he put in them, did you? You had eyes on him at all times?’
‘Yes! Well, no, but I’d have noticed if he’d dumped half a tin of salt in them! And we tried them! They were perfect last night!’
‘Right, and after that, did you leave him alone with them? Who handled them last? Who’s been alone in the tearoom this morning?’
The answer to all those questions is Bram. Of course it is. Last night, I took stuff out to the car while he loaded the muffins into cake tins ready to bring in this morning. I didn’t watch him every second – why would I? ‘That’s ridiculous. How would he know I wouldn’t have one for breakfast and find out? And why? What would Bram have to gain from sabotaging anything around here? If I lose The Wonderland Teapot, he loses his job as the Hatter.’
‘He’ll find another one. People like him always bounce back. You don’t honestly think dear daddy Hastings would let him be jobless for long, do you? This’ll be his idea of a practical joke, you mark my words.’
‘He’s not a practical jokey kind of person. Bram does magic tricks, he doesn’t pull pranks.’
‘Same thing.’ She reaches over to squeeze my shoulder. ‘You’re young and naive, Cleo.’
‘I’m thirty-four! And you’re only two years older than me, you’re not exactly a wizened old tortoise are you?’
‘You forget that I have five years’ worth of experience with Bram. You’ve only known him for a few weeks. You’re taken in by his sense of humour, but that wears thin very fast, especially when you’re an adult and he has eternal Peter Pan syndrome. The attention-seeking manchild who point-blank refuses to grow up. He’s the class clown. Disrupting lessons and causing havoc, and the more the other students find him funny, the more he acts up to impress them.’ She squeezes my shoulder again and I’m torn between being annoyed at being patronised and trying not to show how much my interest is piqued. I like Bram. He doesn’t seem like a manchild, he seems like someone who’s been hurt and has created a shield to stop himself being hurt again, but she’s right too – realistically, she does know him better than I do, and there’s a horrible, gnawing niggle of doubt in my mind.
‘And he knew full well he could blame the salt on me.’ She goes back to talking about the muffins. ‘He doesn’t want to work with me any more than I want to work with him. He’s trying to get me fired.’
‘No, he’s not like that. He’s not bitter about the way things ended between you.’
‘Things didn’t end between us – he ended them out of the blue. I thought we were happy. It left me reeling. It’s taken years for me to put my broken heart back together. I was part of his family and he tossed me aside like the past five years of our lives had meant nothing.’
I don’t know whether I want to get into this or not. It’s nothing to do with me, and I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever happened between them, but I can’t help myself burrowing. ‘That’s not what I heard…’
‘I’m allowed to have standards! A wedding day is the most important day of any woman’s life. I’m not wrong to want to marry a man who doesn’t turn up wearing flipping eyeliner or cracking some lame joke and embarrassing me. Our wedding photos would have been with us for the rest of our lives. I didn’t want him to look like…’ She waves a hand towards the stairs. ‘That.’
‘Surely the person you’re marrying is more important than what they look like.’
‘And I think he should have compromised to make me happy. His family had become like my family. We had spent five years together. We’d gone on holidays together. Shared important life events. They were my in-laws in all but an official capacity. And suddenly, gone. Over. Now I feel like I’m doing something wrong by even contacting them. Laura’s been like a sister to me for years, and now she can’t invite me to her wedding without being torn over upsetting him. I don’t have a close family of my own, and losing them broke my heart.’
I bite my lip because I really feel for her. The things no one tells you about the consequences of a break-up. When two people have been together for that long, it isn’t just them that splitting up affects.
‘Daddy Hastings always thought my influence was good for Bram. And now look at the state of him without it.’
And just like that, my hackles are bristling again. She can switch from making me want to give her a hug to making me want her to drink a shrinking potion and shrivel down to ant size in one simple sentence. Bram has done nothing but help me since I met him. He doesn’t deserve that. ‘He’s—’
‘He’s a mess, Cleo,’ she interrupts before I can defend him. ‘Squatting in his father’s house, dressing like a toddler who’s got into their parents’ wardrobe and make-up case, doing magic for a living, and before now, running a carousel. It’s not exactly blazing ambition, is it?’
‘He’s playing a character in the tearoom. He’s ambitious with what he does. The tricks he can do are something else. People can do what they love and be happy. Not everyone needs to be rich and famous.’
‘But everyone should want bigger things. Like you. I might think this place is a bit childish, but it’s good to see a young woman with a vision and the drive to make it happen. Have a little more faith in yourself and you won’t need his help, and trust me, everything is better when Bram Hastings isn’t involved in it.’
I take that thinly veiled compliment and use it to appeal to her better nature. ‘Okay, so businesswoman to businesswoman, level with me. Any means necessary to succeed, right? Even a spot of sabotage? You can be honest with me, Tabby. I’d prefer the truth… because I can’t help but think Mr Hastings offered this place to you, and now you want it back.’
‘What?’
I explain, and to be fair, she seems totally confused by the revelation that Mr Hastings offered the building to someone else and then changed his mind.
‘That’s odd. Mr Hastings never changes his mind about anything. He’s very set in his ways. And he’s far too professional for anything of the sort. I’m sorry, but to put it in words you understand, you’re barking up the wrong raspberry bush. I have zero idea about this building being given to anyone else, and even less interest in trying to sabotage anything you’re doing here. I champion women in business. My only interest is in showing Mr Hastings that I’m a team player and ensuring I’m front and centre of his mind when the next empty space comes up on Ever After Street.’
‘Well, one thing’s for certain, it won’t happen again. No one will be unattended with any cakes from now on.’
‘You just make sure you’re looking in the right place, Cleo. Because one thing magicians are good at is misdirection – ensuring you’re looking at the side of the stage while the trick is being done right in front of you.’
It sets a cold seed of dread growing in my chest. She does know Bram better than I do. What he told me about their break-up was only his side of the story. There is always another side.
Her comment about Bram not being on my side has been playing on my mind since she made it yesterday. I don’t know that he wouldn’t do something like this – what if Tabby does know that he would?