11 The Teashop on the Corner Read Online Free Page B

because of the cold,
still air of the room. Her body was in shock down to the bones and was vibrating to drum up some heat and comfort. It wasn’t working. She couldn’t remember hearing the door open and the
Reverend Duckworth entering. Not until he covered her shoulders with a throw did she become aware of his presence. It was heavy and velvet: maybe one of his vestments. She sat there for a few
minutes, absorbing the warmth it afforded.
    ‘Cl-Shall I direct people onwards?’ he asked softly. ‘The cl-Ship next door I do believe?’
    ‘It’s fine,’ said Carla, surprising herself by standing because she didn’t think she still had a spine. It felt as if it had been ripped out of her. ‘I’ll do
it.’
    The Reverend Duckworth squeezed her hand and she felt him willing her strength. He was a nice man. A kind man.
    She pulled in a long lungful of the chilled vestry air, let go of the warm hand lending support to hers and pushed the material from her shoulders. She strolled out into the church, forcing a
smile onto her lips, unstable as it was, and addressed the pews of mourners more slowly and calmly than she would have thought possible.
    ‘I apologise for the disturbance to the ceremony. Please make your way to the Ship next door where refreshments will be waiting for you.’ She focused her eyes on Andrew. ‘I
know some of you have travelled a long way so please, join me.’
    People rose and started to file out, whispering to each other, the subject matter obvious. Carla couldn’t blame them. She would have been the same had she been out there observing all
this. She wondered how many of them would ask her what was going on, how many times she would have to tell the same story. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to be put on the spot.
    ‘Wait!’ she shouted on impulse. Everyone turned to her and she momentarily lost her nerve. She didn’t so much forget what she was going to say, because she hadn’t planned
anything. She opened her mouth and let the words make their own exit in whatever order they happened to come out.
    ‘You’ll all be wondering what that was . . . what happened. It appears that Martin had another wife. That is as much as I know, so please don’t ask me for details because I
don’t have any.’
    The church was filled with gasps.
    ‘Please, today, let’s just say goodbye to the Martin we all knew and . . . loved.’ She stumbled over the word. It had been true until half an hour ago.
    She hoped that would stop any questions. Fat chance. Five seconds later, Andrew was at her side.
    ‘What do you mean he had another wife?’
    ‘Well, he had another wife,’ said Carla, shrugging her shoulders. ‘That woman in the red shoes apparently was Julie. His first wife. The one he never divorced, as I found out
today. That makes
me
the “other wife”, I suppose.’
    ‘That was Julie?’ Andrew pointed towards the back of the church, as if she was still there, hiding behind the large arched door. ‘Blimey, she’s changed. She was a great
big fat lass the last time I saw her. Long brown hair. Teeth like an abandoned graveyard.’
    Carla suddenly felt full of anger and frustration which needed to be vented. In the absence of Martin she turned to the nearest thing she had to him – his cousin.
    ‘Why did no one ever mention her to me? I didn’t know he’d been married before,’ she snapped, her voice carrying more wobble than aggression.
    Andrew shook his head and his great jowls flapped.
    ‘They were just kids. They were met, married and separated within a year. I’d forgotten all about her if I’m honest. Still, I would have thought Martin should have mentioned
it.’ He raked his fingers through the little hair he had left. ‘And you say they never divorced?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘How does that leave you?’
    Carla sighed. ‘Up a certain brown smelly creek without a paddle, I imagine.’
    ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘I honestly didn’t know he hadn’t