“It won’t,” Mari said with parental confidence.

—

Annie had begun making lists for reopening the tearoom as a coffee shop the moment she’d put the phone down after speaking with Mari. So, by the time she had called Paul—in his new capacity as a friend without benefits—and commissioned him to do some building, lifting, and general handiwork around the place, she had a clear and exacting idea of what she wanted to achieve.

The whole thing needed to be done on a shoestring, not least because she was still having to draw cash out on her much-abused credit card but also because this was, after all, just a pop-up shop with a very good possibility of closing down when John Granger sold the property. Luckily Paul’s rates for mates were exceedingly matey, and Alfred was on hand as extra muscle and only required food for his services. Maeve had donated a stack of old wood left over from the building of a new barn on the farm, and Bill had brought down three unopened tubs of chalk-white paint left over from when they painted their apartment above the pub.

The first thing to address was moving the coffee machine so that it was conveniently reachable from both the café and the kiosk. Paul took the wall down to make the space open plan and then built a long counter against the far wall, where the coffee machine was replumbed into its new position, as was a sink and a five-ring electric hob with a small electric oven (all secondhand) and microwave (donated by Sally) set into one of the new cupboards. Beneath the counter, he built a series of deep cupboards and plumbed in the dishwasher.

Annie continued to open the kiosk as usual; it was important to keep her customer base happy. And being that it was only a takeaway service, the disruption from banging and drilling was minimal—at least to her customers.

The old nautical oil lamps, which Annie had lovingly restored to their brassy glory, were given to Paul, with strict instructions, and transformed into stylish light fittings; the lamps now housed electric bulbs and were attached by a long length of industrial-looking wire. The offensive strip light in the ceiling was removed and the new-old lamps were hung above the counter at different heights, wire looping between them, as though the lamps were hanging over the side of a fishing boat. Annie had rescued the kitsch floral crockery from the old cupboards and stacked the pieces on top of the coffee machine, where they teetered in a riot of ditsy floral and plush rose petals, like a Mad Hatter’s tea party.

Chapter 35