The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts. Jennifer Joyce

Nicky asks Victoria, who attempts to do a little dance in the cramped space while nodding her head. ‘But where? I hate to break it to you, hun, but you’re not going to fit in the teashop. Not if you want customers inside at the same time.’

      Victoria’s animated jig freezes. She frowns, trying to work out the logistics, her shoulders slumping when she realises Nicky’s right.

      ‘We can’t play at the party then.’

      ‘Maybe you can,’ Nicky says with a shrug. ‘Just not inside the teashop.’

      ‘Then where?’ Victoria asks. ‘On the roof?’

      Nicky ignores Victoria’s sarcasm. ‘If you’re going to have a party, why not make it big? Have it out there, in the garden.’

      The garden! Of course! Opposite the teashop, running the length of the Kingsbury terrace of shops, is the little community garden. When I’d viewed the teashop all those months ago, I’d assumed the gated garden would encourage families onto Kingsbury Road. I thought that employees from the town centre would wander over on warm days to sit by the fountain or picnic on the grass. And once they clocked my teashop and its sweet treats on offer …

      I’d been wrong. Nobody uses the poor, neglected garden. But perhaps we can. Perhaps the garden across the road is the answer to all my problems.

Chapter Four

      I’m buzzing about the party as we start to make plans, moving out into the teashop and taking over one of the tables as it really is far too cramped in the office and the teashop is empty anyway. Mags brings a pad and pen with her, jotting down the ideas we fire at her.

      Picnic blankets.

      Sample-sized treats.

      Victoria’s band.

      A bouncy castle (kids love a bouncy castle, Mags tells us, and there’s nothing stronger than pester power).

      Face-painting (see above).

      ‘Why don’t we get the other shops involved?’ Nicky asks. ‘Make it into a Kingsbury Road open day? I can offer free mini manicures or eyebrow shaping and I’m sure Marjorie from the florist’s and the girls from Paper Roses will be keen to drum up new business.’

      ‘How will George and Rehana fit in?’ I ask as Mags makes a note of Nicky’s suggestion. Although the pair offer a valuable service, I’m not sure what freebies a letting agency would be able to provide at an open day.

      Nicky shrugs. ‘Why would we want them to fit in? They’re hardly loyal to us. Rehana gets her nails done at that tacky, overpriced salon off Piccadilly Gardens and I spotted George the other day with a spray tan that wasn’t applied at Nico’s.’

      ‘We should mention it to them anyway,’ I say. ‘It’d be rude otherwise.’

      Nicky shrugs again. ‘If you really want to, go ahead. They don’t deserve it though.’

      ‘So, first thing on Monday morning, I’ll go and have a word with the others,’ I say, decision made. ‘Maybe Imogen and Zoe can run some free classes at Paper Roses? Make something cheap and cheerful?’

      Mags nods. ‘Run it past them. I’m sure they’ll want to be part of it.’

      I feel a warm glow inside as we throw around some more ideas. The party is taking on a real community spirit and I hope the others will want to be involved. We’ll make a far bigger impact if we’re all working together and it’ll benefit us all in the long run.

      We’re still sharing suggestions when the teashop door opens and Birdie steps inside, murmuring to Franklin that she won’t be long. I’m surprised to see Birdie as she doesn’t usually pop in on a Saturday.

      ‘I’m after cake to take away,’ she explains when I stand up to serve her. ‘My great-granddaughter is coming over for a tea party and I’ve promised her cake.’ Birdie’s eyes crinkle in the corners as her mouth stretches into a wide smile. ‘I can’t wait to see the little angel. I don’t see her much, you see. My grandson’s ex-wife is … difficult.’

      I sense Birdie wants to use much more colourful language to describe the woman but she manages to rein it in. ‘She wouldn’t let my grandson see their daughter much after the divorce. It’s been so stressful for poor Caleb. For everyone. But he’s finally been granted joint custody, which means I’ll get to see her more often. So we’re celebrating this afternoon.’

      Birdie heads over to the refrigerated counter and peers at the cakes on offer. There are peanut butter blondies, chocolate fudge cupcakes and raspberry cream cheese brownies as well as homemade jammy dodgers. ‘I’ll take one of each of the cakes and some of the biscuits, please. Oh, and I’ll take those as well.’ Birdie points at the two chocolate chip muffins in a basket on top of the counter. ‘We’re really going to treat ourselves. Celine won’t like Cara having all that sugar, but it’s a special occasion.’

      Birdie wanders over to the table we’ve been working at while I box up her order. If only we had more customers like Birdie, it wouldn’t be such a worrying time.

      ‘What’s going on here?’ she asks and Nicky explains about the community open day. Birdie thinks it’s a brilliant idea and says she’ll pass on the details to her grandson once they’re in place. It’s the kind of positive response we’ve been hoping for but our bubble is momentarily burst by her next words.

      ‘I’m surprised you got permission to use the garden from the council. My friend’s granddaughter wanted to erect a marquee on her village green when she got married but they refused, miserable beggars.’

      I’m reaching out to take the money Birdie is handing towards me, but I freeze, my eyes wide as they lock onto Mags’s equally wide-eyed look.

      ‘The council?’ Why didn’t we think of that? It seems so obvious now that we’d need permission, but it hadn’t even occurred to me.

      ‘You have got permission to use the garden, haven’t you?’ Birdie asks.

      ‘Not yet.’ I take the money and slide it into the till, handing over the change and the boxed treats. ‘But I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’

      My eyes find Mags’s again.

      Will it? they desperately ask. They don’t receive an answer.

      The obstacle of gaining permission to use the garden is only a minor one. A tiny blip, really. Mags says she’ll get on to the council on Monday morning as she’s far more assertive than I am, will push for this stronger than I could ever imagine pushing and hopefully we’ll get the result we want. The result we need. In the meantime, I’m using every spare minute planning our menu. I take my books and Gran’s handwritten recipes up to the flat, spreading them out across the sofa while I make notes.

      Sitting directly above the teashop, my flat is tiny with one bedroom, a doll-sized bathroom and an open-plan kitchen and living area. But living above the teashop is handy and I was in a bit of a pickle, accommodation-wise, when I started looking for a suitable property for my new business. Finding the shop with a flat above it had been fortunate and certainly helped me to make my mind up about the Kingsbury Road location.

      Nicky joins me with a bottle of wine once the salon is closed for the day and we order a takeaway, sifting through the recipes as we wait for our food. Nicky had wanted to go into town tonight, but as I have to work, we’ve compromised with indulgent food, wine and Gilmore Girls on Netflix in the background.

      Besides, it’s been a while since I braved Manchester’s clubs on a Saturday night. I’m usually too exhausted to face a night out after being up at the crack of dawn to bake – or at least that’s the excuse I go with. The truth is, I’d rather curl up at home with a bottle of wine and a DVD, where I’m safe from men like Joel. I can’t risk being hurt again.

      ‘Why