A storm in A TEACUP

The cafe was warm and welcoming – but trouble was brewing

- Maggie Cobbett

After he lost Caroline, Roger buried himself in his solitary routine. He was in his office at County Hall from Monday to Friday, and spent the weekends reading, watching TV or working in his garden. He supposed he was lonely, but he wasn't ready to seek new companionship.

Saturday mornings were for shopping, something he and Caroline had usually done together, and the clink of china as he passed the door of their favourite tearoom reminded him of how they had always taken a break for elevenses.

However hungry he was now, he still could not bear to go in alone. Too many memories of being unable to decide between lemon drizzle cake and Bakewell tart, and then ordering a slice of each to share between them.

Then one Saturday afternoon he noticed that a new cafe, its tasteful blue-and-white sign swaying gently in the breeze, had opened up. The name made him smile and he decided to give it a try. Taking care not to drop either of his heavy bags, he used his elbow to push open the door.

'Good morning, sir,' said a cheerful voice. 'Welcome to A Storm in a Teacup.'

The owner of the voice, a pleasant-looking woman of around his own age, showed Roger to a table by the window and left him to study the menu. Away from the bustle of the high street, he felt a strange sense of peace settle over him, aided by the warm buttery smell of fresh baking.

The mismatched furniture and shelves laden with books and knickknacks gave a homely feel to the place and he could see himself becoming a regular customer. That was even before he sank his teeth into a delicious cherry scone.

Roger smiled as he walked through the door and Liz's warm brown eyes lit up when she saw him. 'Hello, Roger,' she said. 'The usual?'