A
gnawing wind funnelled down Castlegate as if intent on ripping the
clothes off the Christmas shoppers. They in their turn were holding
coats and scarves close to deny the onslaught. An elderly gent with a
distinct military bearing was tackling the wind head on, towing a
small girl behind him. Her padded jacket and trousers made her look
like an over large stuffed toy, incongruous next to his long black
woolen coat and bright shiny black shoes.
“I'm
cold Grandy can we go to Starbucks for a hot chocolate?” the little
one pleaded, catching sight of the coffee shop on the next corner.
“Certainly
not with those tax avoiding b's” replied her great Grandfather,
remembering just in time to moderate his languauge for his darling
Lydia, “we'll go somewhere much nicer”
Two
minutes later they were pushing open the ornate door of Brucciani's
tea rooms and were embraced by the gush of warm chocolate, coconut
scented air. A wide eyed Lydia gave a contented sigh.
The old
man was obviously a well known and respected customer as the staff
greeted him with waves and smiles. From behind the counter bustled a
dark haired portly man beaming a welcome.
“Kenneth,
how lovely to see you, my friend,” He said extending his hand, “and
who is this lovely lady?” turning to Lydia.
Tweaking
her fleecy cap of her head Kenneth replied, “ Allow me to present
my great Granddaughter Lydia. Lydia meet Alberto, the proprietor of
this wonderful establishment.”
Lydia
smiled shyly and wondered if being “the proprietor of the wonderful
establishment” was the reason he spoke differently in the same way
that her friend Anita spoke differently because “she was an
immigrant from Bangladesh”. The wondering didn't last long as the
magnificent display of cakes drew her towards the counter.
Taking
his admiring gaze from the little girl Alberto turned to Kenneth and
asked what he could get them.
“ An
expresso for me Alberto and a small hot chocolate for Lydia, please”
“Not
small, Grandy, not small.” said an indignant Lydia, “ and one of
those please.” she wheedled, pointing to an enormous chocolate
eclair.
Her
Great Grandfathers eyebrows rose and Alberto chuckled.
“She
know her own mind, that young lady”
“ She
may do but if she's going to have that huge cake she's most
definitely having a small hot chocolate or she'll be sick” said
Kenneth and turning to Lydia added “ You wouldn't have got one of
those in Starbucks.”
Kenneth
should have known better than to mention the coffee chain in
Alberto's vicinity.
The
expression on Alberto's amiable face immediately became thunderous
“You
weren't thinking of going to those thieving devils?” he spat out,
“wherever they go, places like mine suffer. The first month they
opened down the road my takings were halved, halved I tell you.”
Kenneth
was piloting Lydia towards an empty table. She looked a little
alarmed at the sudden change in a man she had instantly warmed to.
She was yet to learn that Italians often have volatile personalities
and Alberto was no exception.
“ And
now?” asked Kenneth calmly, looking round at the crowded tables and
the queue at the counter.
“ Well,
yes, OK, it's better now. But it's only because good loyal customers
like you didn't desert us that we kept our heads above the water.”
“Nonsense
Alberto, it was just novelty. Who wouldn't come in here in favour of
Starbucks, with its corporate image and its “Have a Nice Day”
from staff who don”t give a damn.”
Storing
the “damn” way for later use, Lydia lost interest in the adult
conversation as she stared about the magical place to which her
Grandy had brought her. It was quite unlike anywhere her mother had
taken her.
Apart
from anything else it was a regular Tardis, considerably bigger on
the inside than it appeared outside. The table at which they were
sitting was one of many arranged around the walls of the bigger
section at the back of the shop. Lydia was sitting on a green leather
bench whilst her great grandfather sat on an old fashioned looking
chair with a curved back. The chairs looked really old. The whole
place looked old, but in a nice way. Comfortable, somehow. Above the
benches were panels of mirrors and on the walls there was writing. At
six Lydia hadn't mastered many long words but was able to easily
read, tea
and
Bovril but speciality had her foxed. On one wall there were three
flying duck ornaments soaring towards the ceiling. Lydia couldn't see
them easily from her seat but covering the walls of front of the cafe
were black and white photographs of celebrities.
Lydia
was about to ask if they'd all been customers when a waitress slid a
plate holding her eclair over the table to her.
“ …......
millions of pounds, Alberto, they owe to the taxman. They've paid
some back since all the fuss but not what they really owe. I'll bet
you've never tried to avoid paying your dues have you.”
The
incomprehensible conversation was still going on above her head so
Lydia picked up her eclair, wrapped her small mouth around one end
and bit firmly. Cream and custard oozed out of the sides, over her
fingers and all around her mouth. The two men engrossed in their talk
failed to notice.
“ Kenneth,
my family is so grateful to Britain taking us in in the 1930's when
life was so hard in Italy why would we want to cheat?” Alberto
winked, “don't tell my Mafia cousins though!”
He
pushed down on the table to raise his ample bottom from his chair and
looked across to Lydia and burst out laughing. The little girl was a
mess of chocolate, custard and cream, she was pushing cream from her
cheeks into her mouth and desperately licking her fingers.
“I get
a cloth.” pronounced Alberto “And a spoon”
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