Little Eden Read online

  “Talking of helpful spirits - have you felt Aunt Lil’s spirit around you?”

  “Yes, of course, my love!” Mrs B said, as she stood up to leave. “She was in the kitchen this morning - we had a good chat.”

  “You did!” Lucy’s eyes widened. “What did she say?”

  Mrs B closed the curtains a little and replied, “Oh, she asked me to keep an eye on you and to help you rest and not over do it! She said she was between worlds at the moment but in no pain at all. She said she would like to stay as your guardian angel but she isn’t sure if that is possible yet. Something about Robert making a decision? But she didn’t say what. I did wonder what Robert had to do with it.”

  “Did you actually see her?” Lucy asked.

  “No, my love,” Mrs B replied, shaking her head. “But I’ve spent so many years talking to the saints, I know how to chat with the spirit world when the occasion arises. Now, you get some rest and leave the Café to the rest of us.” As she went through the door she turned and added, “You are always needed and valued my dear, and we all love you. Don’t you worry, Lilly will guide you!”

  Later that afternoon, Jack came down into the kitchen to find something to nibble and found Mrs B humming along to the tune ‘Lean on Me’,* which was playing on the radio, whilst she busied herself in her kitchen - doing what she loved best!

  “Afternoon Mrs B!” Jack said. “Anything going spare?”

  “Come in, my love, I need a word with you!” Mrs B said. The kitchen was filled with glorious odours of fresh baking and the whole delightful room was clouded in warm floury air. “Lucy needs some time off and some care and attention,” Mrs B told Jack, as she rolled out some pastry. She kept talking as she made bread, tarts, cookies, muffins and cakes of all descriptions. She had a knack of having several pans bubbling away at once and a hundred and one different things in the ovens, on hobs, on cooling racks - you name it - she had it on the go! “I know you’ve been staying here with them these last few nights, but can you stay a little longer? I don’t like to think of the girls being alone, especially after what happened with Lucy in the shower this morning. And I know Lilly is worried about them.”

  “Of course I can!” Jack replied, reaching for a rose and vanilla jam tart that was fresh out of the oven and it burnt his mouth!

  “They are hot!” Mrs B said smiling, pretending she hadn’t seen him spit it out and fan his mouth to cool it.

  “Yeah, got that!” Jack laughed. “I don’t have to go back to Mexico right now if I don’t want. I can stay around.”

  “Good!” Mrs Bakewell replied and handed him a zucchini muffin. Jack willingly tried anything that Mrs B cooked up!

  “What do you think of Jimmy?” Mrs B suddenly asked him.

  “Jimmy?” Jack replied, with his mouth full of muffin.

  “You know! Jimmy Pratt! Lucy’s beau,” Mrs B said.

  Jack laughed. “I don’t think we call them beau’s these days, Mrs B!” He finished his muffin and added, “I dunno what I think of him really. These are scrumptious Mrs B. Anything else you need me to test?” Jack thought for a moment. “He should have been at the funeral for Lucy, I know that much!”

  Mrs B gave him a tiny cheesecake to try. “Jimmy Pratt is exactly the kind of man Lucy would pick as a beau,” Mrs B said. “Whether anyone else would pick him is debatable. Lilly told me this morning that she was worried about his influence on Lucy, but as we all know, if you say anything about her choice of men it will push her towards them, not away. Lucy can never see the faults in people, bless her.”

  “She can see the faults in me!” Jack replied. “These cheesecakes are tasty Mrs B but rather small!”

  “They are for afternoon teas, Jack, they are meant to be delicate and ladylike!” Mrs B laughed.

  “Yes, I suppose they are. That’s the only thing with this Café - nothing is bigger than an amuse-bouche most of the time!” He shrugged and helped himself to another one. “Wait a minute. Did you say Lilly told you this morning?”

  “Why yes! Here in the kitchen. We had a little chat.” Mrs B nodded and stirred some custard.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me, Mrs B!” Jack said, slipping a maid of honour into his mouth. “Have you met the new headmistress?”

  “No, not yet,” Mrs B replied, taking some oat cookies out of the oven.

  “Adela Huggins!” Jack grinned. “She’s amazingly clever and she’s one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen!”

  Mrs B rolled her eyes and shooed him away from some fresh banana bread.

  “Adela has a son, Joshua. We took him with us this morning to the climbing wall. He was good at it too. Quite the outdoors man it seems!”

  Jack sneakily stole a warm cookie whilst Mrs B was busy looking in the fridge for some cream and then continued…“Adela rides very well apparently.”

  “I am sure she does,” Mrs Bakewell replied, pretending not to notice the tell-tale crumbs he had down his t-shirt. “It’s not my place to say, Jack, but if this Adela Huggins is going to be the headmistress of new Star Child Academy I presume she will be around in Little Eden for many years to come, and we wouldn’t want to make things awkward for her now, would we?”

  “Whatever do you mean Mrs B?” Jack replied, feigning a frown.

  “You know exactly what I mean Jack, my boy!” Mrs B responded, waving her rolling pin at him. “There are plenty of fish in the sea that can swim away as soon as you get bored with them. Those that need to stay around here, well, perhaps you could leave them in peace!”

  “Who says I would get bored with her, maybe she is the one!” Jack grinned.

  “You have no clue who the one is and when you realise who it is, well, we will all be thankful for that!” Mrs B scolded him, but she smiled. “Now, go and see what the girls would like for their dinner. I may as well make something for them whilst I’m here.”

  Jack kissed her on the cheek and pinched another muffin on his way out.

  ~ *~

  Earlier, Sophie had hopped across a snowy Daisy Place wearing Lucy’s pink wellies and Jack’s oversized wool coat. The glittering snow crunched and crinkled beneath her feet as it sparkled in the twinkling fairy lights, which are strewn, all year long, across the shops and balconies of the yard. She chuckled at the various snow creatures the kids had left behind, half hidden now, under the newly fallen snow and looking rather more comical than before!

  The shops across the way are a row of 18th Century bow-fronted establishments. The shop Sophie was heading for had been recently renovated. The wooden pillars around the door were carved into flowers of all kinds, spiralling their way up in garlands towards the new, but vintage-style, shop sign, which read:

  Peony Bow

  Parfumier Parisian

  The old shop bell tinkled as Sophie opened the ornate glass door. Peony Bow was inside unwrapping precious bottles of perfume and aromatherapy. Sophie caught her breath as she closed the door behind her. She was completely engulfed by an olfactory wave of heady scents. The whole shop was aquiver with sensuous and alluring aromas. An exotic frisson of damask rose and patchouli floated in the air, followed by a blissful bouquet of mandarin, bergamot and frangipani. She sighed, enraptured by the enchanting fragrances. As she looked around, her senses were even more bewildered by the luminosity of gleaming glass and gilt, adorning the rich rosewood interior. Exquisite bottles of perfumes, reflected in the mirrors behind them, seemed to go on and on forever into a far-off land. The counters effervesced with sumptuous glass bottles wearing beautifully printed labels in; lavender, candy pink, mint greens and raspberry red. On the central table, grand baroque glass urns, richly gilded, glimmered with mystical liquids, the colour of honey dew and burnished amber.

  “Come in!” Peony Bow called to her, smiling. “Sorry it’s so cold in here! The heating isn’t working yet. I just wanted to get these boxes unpacked.” Pe
ony Bow was wrapped up in a pale cashmere hat and scarf and some silver-grey, cable-knit fingerless gloves. She had two super-soft knitted jumpers on, one layered on top of the other, and on her feet she had big furry boots. Peony was petite and naturally slim. Any outfit she wore she seemed to carry off with a certain Parisian charm. “What can I do for you?” Peony asked. “Sophie isn’t it? Lucy’s sister?”

  Sophie was still transfixed by the mesmerising radiance of the scene laid out before her, and suddenly couldn’t remember what she had come in for. “Oh, yes, well…Lucy said you were stocking Rainbow Rescuers…I wondered if you had any for sale?” Sophie stuttered.

  “I put all the bottles out yesterday. What do you think?” Peony pointed to an alcove, the height of the room, filled with small bottles of coloured liquids which were magically separated into several coloured layers. The display looked stunning. The bottles were reflected in the glass behind them and lit from underneath, which created a rhapsody of colour and light. “I always love the display they make, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes!” Sophie replied. “This is the most beautiful shop I have ever seen!”

  “Thank you!” Peony replied. “I was sorry to hear about your aunt. That is why you need a Rainbow Rescuer I suppose?”

  “Yes.” Sophie nodded. “We’ve run out of the Happy Life.”

  “Happy Life is so good,” Peony said. “But here, try Rest and Repair. It has strawberry which is good for grounding, rose for grief, and tangerine is invaluable when you have been through a trauma. It’ll put your aura back together and soothe your emotional body too.” She chose a bottle from the middle shelf which was humming with the three magical colours - it was comforting and relaxing just to gaze into it.

  “I think we are both still in shock.” Sophie admitted. “It’s only been ten days since…we keep expecting her to turn up, you know, as if she had just gone on holiday or popped to the shops or something. Everyone says it will get easier and I don’t doubt that it will eventually, I suppose, time allows emotions to heal and fade. We will try anything to help us get through it - anything that’ll keep us off drink, drugs, too much food and wild bouts of shopping!”

  “It’s nice to have neighbours who are into holistic health and such like!” Peony smiled. “It makes you feel as if you can talk about things! Little Eden seems like paradise to me. Everyone is so liberal but it’s more like Mayfair than Glastonbury - which I prefer!”

  “That’s one way to describe it I suppose!” Sophie said, laughing.

  Peony looked Sophie up and down for moment and added, “I know I have only just met you, but I feel as if I know you already! Do you believe in past lives?”

  “Oh, yes!” Sophie smiled.

  Do you think we knew each other in a past life?” Peony asked.

  “Oh, I think so!” Sophie replied, picking up scent bottles and luxury handmade soaps. “I feel as if I have known you before. I’m getting serious deja-vu in here!”

  “Maybe we could do some regression and find out?” Peony suggested. “I had a regression session once. I was a lady’s maid in a big house!”

  “Yes,” Sophie laughed, “Many people are.”

  “Sorry?” Peony said.

  “Oh, sorry!” Sophie replied, putting down a bottle from which the scent had nearly blown her head off. “I didn’t mean to imply that what you saw during regression wasn’t true, or anything! It’s just past life regression is a bit hit and miss. We often retell things we have seen on TV or read in a book, but it feels very real under hypnosis. The amount of people who claim to be Elizabeth I or Casanova is amazing!”

  “Do lots of people think they have been maids in stately homes?” Peony asked, a little disappointed.

  “It’s a common memory, yes,” Sophie replied. “But then, sometimes we remember our ancestors’ lives in regression, but it’s still kind of personal I suppose.”

  “You mean we are just telling stories our family have told us or making up stories based on old photos we might have seen?” Peony asked.

  “Not necessarily.” Sophie said, shaking her head. “But the memories of what your ancestors did and witnessed are recorded in your DNA, just as much as the colour of your eyes or the talents you inherit. You know, like being able to play the piano or being able to do maths, being an addictive personality or an extrovert. Most information lies dormant in the DNA until you go inside your mind to find it. Like having a big library inside you but you never read all the books!”

  “Like having Wikipedia in your DNA you mean?” Peony suggested.

  Sophie laughed. “That’s why so many people feel they have been someone famous in history. Anne Boleyn is one of the most common. It’s like that life story gets into our collective psyche and we make it part of our own story.”

  “Really?” Peony asked, fascinated to know more.

  “You’d be surprised! Male, female, young, old - from all over the world - say they have memories of being Anne Boleyn or having been at the crucifixion of Christ - that’s another popular one - seems to me there must have been busloads of tourists at that event if everyone who says they were there, was actually there.”

  “It sounds awfully complicated. I didn’t realise there is so much to it! You will have to tell me more sometime.”

  “Here, let me pay you for the Rescuer, how much is it?” Sophie asked, rooting in Jack’s pockets for some ten pound notes.

  “No need to pay, no, no!” Peony assured her. “Your aunt Lilly was the one who got me the shop in the first place, and besides, I will be picking your brains about past lives for weeks to come. I have a feeling all sorts of other weird and wonderful things are bound to happen whilst you are here!”

  “That’s very kind,” Sophie said. She realised that her mind was slowing down and she had to fight to find her words as a wave of fatigue was washing over her. She felt she should leave but she didn’t want to go. She let Peony rattle on, glad of the company, not wanting to have to go to bed again, alone.

  Peony was enthusiastic about her new venture. “I’ve rented out the first floor as an old-fashioned barbers and guess what? It only turns out that it was a barbers way back in the eighteen hundreds. We found where the chairs had been fixed to the floor under the linoleum. It’s all meant to be, don’t you think?”

  Sophie was glad that Peony didn’t know of the sale of Little Eden and the impending doom. Her new shop might be out of business by the end of year. She felt a pang of sadness for Peony’s childlike enthusiasm, knowing that her hopes and dreams maybe over almost before they had begun.

  “I hope it wasn’t Sweeny Todd’s!” Sophie laughed. “Who’s the barber going to be?”

  “His name is Vincent Piccolo. Perhaps you have heard of him? He is very famous in the world of hairdressing. He has won a lot of awards! Very exclusive.”

  Sophie laughed. “Oh, I know Vincent! He lived in Castle Mansions as a boy. His parents still do, they owned the fish and chip shop in Violet Yard. He always wanted to be a hairdresser. Good for him!”

  “Vincent’s up there now, come and have a look upstairs. It’s as beautiful as down here! It’s all burrwood panelling and mirrors, and the products he uses smell divine.

  Peony led a very tired Sophie up the stairs. They were greeted by a sign saying:

  “Gentlemen are measured by their manners and by the style of their hair.”

  Two large Georgian-style sash windows look out over Daisy Place and stylish traditional barbers’ chairs had been placed in front of each one. Deeply sensuous scents of neroli, sandalwood and clary sage floated in the air and the shelves were stocked with a plethora of gentleman’s luxury grooming accessories such as staghorn shaving brushes, vintage tortoiseshell combs, ceramic shaving bowls and soft leather wash bags.

  Vincent Piccolo was in the other room and called to them when heard their voices. “I’ll be out in a minute, darling!”
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  Vincent came through double doors, which look, from the outside, as if they belong to a Victorian wardrobe, but once opened they reveal another small and alluring room beyond, which is decked out with luxury tailored shirts, silk ties and exquisite handmade brogues. The quote on the wall reads:

  “A gentleman wears only that which suits him, not necessarily that which he can afford.”

  Vincent was sporting a very neat, if rather oversized, beard and well groomed hair. In fact, he was a little too well groomed and looked as if he had just stepped out of an eighteen hundred’s time portal himself!

  “Well, I declare!” Vincent suddenly exclaimed in a high-pitched squeal. “If it isn’t Miss Sophie Lawrence!”

  Sophie smiled, trying to take in the spectacle that was an adult and dandified Vincent. The last time she had seen him he had been a rather dull seventeen-year-old in a shell suit. He kissed the air around her four times and Sophie nearly passed out with strength of his aftershave.

  “Well!” Vincent said, with a flourish. “What do you think of my new abode? Isn’t it fabulous, darling?”

  Sophie nodded. “Absolutely fabulous!”

  “Isn’t it? Isn’t it!” Vincent said, as he wiped the counter down with a silk handkerchief. “And isn’t our little Peony Bow just adorable?” He smiled so widely that his teeth almost glowed fluorescent white!

  “Er, yes!” Sophie nodded. “I wouldn’t have recognised you.”

  “Transformation, darling!” Vincent replied. “That’s the name of the game, as they say! I can take any ugly duckling and create a swan before your very eyes! Confidence comes from the outside, you know! I mean, not to be awful, darling, but you do look rather drab and tired. I would hardly have recognised you either. I don’t do women but for you I could make an exception! An hour with me and you’d be fixed up for life!”