Spilling the Tea

A blur of a figure takes a seat in front of Charlotte just as the bus shudders and lurches to go. This is why they told us to be here fifteen minutes ago. She thinks with a roll of her eyes. Charlotte McFadden has always had a warm regard for schedules.

By the time her vision has returned from the ceiling, the tardy man, now seated in front of her, has scooted in by the window seat and casually rests his plaid-sleeved arm across the old bench seat. He is alone, like she is. His shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath. Warmth radiates from his body and even with a small table separating them, Charlotte can’t help but notice he smells a bit unwashed. If that wasn’t bad enough, he also dabs at his forehead with a cloth as he looks forward. He doesn’t fit in with the other patrons in their stylish ensembles. Why is he even here?  She herself had carefully selected an overpriced sundress and hat with the intent of capturing some Instagrammable photos of she and Henry enjoying the experience.

Charlotte scowls at the back of the man’s unshaven neck. She can’t help but feel cheated in a way. Of all the travel blogs and articles, none had ever warned her of the many wretched smells she would encounter.

Charlotte feels burdened by the weight of her own unhappiness. The one remarkably dark cloud on her psyche being the fact she was stood up by her would-be companion for this excursion. She was supposed to have a fabulous giggly time. Promises of un-crusted tea sandwiches, sweet treats and bubbly while exploring the sights of London with her local bestie. But now she is alone, her mood as foul as the man’s unhygienic body in front of her.

Henry booked this for the both of them a few days back when she had told him of her decision to come to town.

“Guess what lovey! Yours truly booked us a trip on the Tea Tour bus, I’ve been wanting an excuse to ride, and I just know you’ll love it. Who needs a boyfriend, anyway. You’re too hot for him. Boyfriends suck. Except for me. Or maybe I’m a girlfriend. See you soon girlfriend! Xx.” He was trying to cheer her up. Her trip, after all, was one of those sad efforts to recreate Eat, Pray, Love. Men suck.

But Henry hadn’t met her at the train station as planned. He didn’t even tell her just to pop by his flat where she had been invited to stay. He just blew her off entirely and she’d been on her own with text messages going unanswered.

“Are you coming to tea?” She’d asked him first thing in the morning after she’d vacated her overpriced, booked-at-the-last-minute hotel room.

“Please don’t hate me...” His text read and Charlotte rightfully anticipated he was about to give her a fair reason to do just that, -“Gregory came to town last minute. You know. I know you understand.” That text had come in just twenty minutes before she was set to board the bus, which of course meant that she was already arriving at the location. What was she going to do, grab an Uber back to the hotel she’d already checked out of? Dammit Henry! She thought as she climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor of the restored bus.

Charlotte did understand Henry. They’d been friends since her first year at uni. It was nothing new and all too predictable by now. Henry had been in love with Gregory, the too handsome asshole from Dover who always uses him for a place to stay and some action whenever he comes to town.

“I don’t hate you, Henry. I hate Gregory. I’ll pour out some tea for my homie. Xx” had been Charlotte’s response. But she was steaming mad, like a pot of tea herself. Only she couldn’t let out the scream building in her, not in the place full of prim women and tidy girls. Henry was an asshole for leaving her to herself. She hadn’t come to town for him but there was no one else for her here and the worst part was that Henry had bailed on her for Gregory. Gregory who didn’t deserve Henry. Gregory, with his entitled trust-fund, playboy style. She knew that Henry had always felt more for him and was poised to have a broken heart like hers, sooner or later. No one ever wants that for their friends, even if their friends are assholes who abandon them on tea buses when they are on a break-up rebound trip from the states.

A cheerful and gloriously accented voice bursts abruptly over the speakers covering the grumble of the old engine, “Welcome to the London Tea Tour!” Her words are punctuated with a loud screech that makes the two little old women on the bench adjacent to Charlotte cover their ears in precise unison. “Sorry about that.” The voice says a moment later.

Looking over, one little old lady holds her lacey-gloved hand up as if to cover a burp, but Charlotte knows it’s more likely to hide whatever unkind words she intends to utter. Some women think it humorous to make snarky comments. She bites back the urge to roll her eyes again.

“In just a moment our staff will be providing you, our lovely guests, with some fabulous treats to boost your moods and entertain your taste buds while we roll around London town.” The driver’s voice over the intercom is animated, her inflection traveling up and down like a horse on a carousel.

Charlotte grits her teeth, a part of her wants to laugh while the other clings hard to the feeling that she should hate every second of this out of pure spite. 

Then, after a tray assortment of adorable cucumber sandwiches and scones are placed on her small table, enough for two, she lets out her breath. After all, she is seated in air-conditioning receiving afternoon tea in the heart of London. Adding to the plus column, she had also been able to use the restroom before embarking and she hadn’t even needed to part with another Euro. (Something else they don’t talk enough about in those useless travel blogs; you have to pay to pee nearly everywhere in Europe). All things considered; this isn’t completely awful.

The man in front of her hasn’t bothered her much either. Not since the air started to circulate and the heat and smell of him, or whatever it was, dissipated. He actually has a very nice head of thick dark hair too.

“On your left, you’ll see The Palace Theatre, with a rather fancy façade in honor of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Highly recommend if you’ve got the time, and you’ll need it, friends! It’s a two-part show, ladies, and gents!” Charlotte considers looking to purchase a ticket for that to fill up her time this afternoon. If Gregory is still in town, she will be looking for something to do. Buying single tickets last minute is easier than buying pairs, so that’s good. She thinks with an air of sadness. No boyfriend, no friend.

Suddenly her thoughts return to the man seated in front of her.

Seriously, why is this man on this bus all alone?  She had thought it earlier, but wonders again, for different reasons. Now she considers, what on earth could possess a man to get on a bus tour alone with a load of women he doesn’t know and in a condition like he had. It’s just odd all the way around.

As her mind wanders through all the assumptions it can come up with, a distracted Charlotte miscalculates her reach and knocks the tea over on her table. Before she can stop it, it has spilled all over the back of the man who’d caused her distraction.

“Bloody hell!” The man exclaims as he stands and whirls, grabbing desperately at his back. He peels the shirt from himself in an effort to remove the hot liquid soaking through to burn him. Charlotte stands to face him in horror.

“Oh no, I am so sorry sir.” She says, and she means it. She is mortified. The little old ladies on the other side of the bus have both cupped their cotton gloved hands over their mouths in shock. Her immediate instinct is to protect herself and she internally seeks someone else to blame this calamity on. Whoever the hell thought it appropriate to have tea this hot on a moving vehicle, probably.  But she swiftly comes to terms with the fact nothing else matters, she knocked it over. 

His face softens at her apology, and she notices for the first time that the gruesome man she had imagined actually has quite a lovely face.

“It’s alright, I’m inclined to blame whoever thought it smart to have a piping hot spot of tea on a rickety old bus.” He grins, accentuating a dimple in his cheek.

“Well, it was my hand that knocked it over.” Charlotte blushes at the admission.

“Whatever, this whole thing is stupid as shit.” He says with a small huff of a laugh, but Charlotte is distracted again. Wondering, more than ever why he is here.

“Can I ask, why…” she starts and then stops. A small silence rolls out between them before he fills it. She shouldn’t ask, it’s rude.

“Why what? Why I’m here on this bus?” He completes, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“Oh shit, Mr. Montgomery!” A server exclaims arriving behind Charlotte from the stairs. She must be a little more than shocked to see this large shirtless man. Charlotte turns to see the server, a small-framed woman with dark hair and coffee skin wearing a smart black dress complete with an apron. She claps her hand to her own mouth after she finishes.

“It’s alright, Mary.” He laughs but her eyes are as big as the teacup saucers.

“Mr. Montgomery, I’m… I’m sorry.” She apologizes profusely for the foul language and Charlotte can only surmise what’s going on. Most people hope never to reveal their true propensity to use swear words in front of their … is he the boss?

 “It’s quite alright. In fact, I said shit just moments before you came up those stairs. Be a dear and grab me something to dry off with, would you?”

“Yes, yes sir!” She says before hurriedly turning for the stairs.

Charlotte stands in thought, her earlier questions answered, she thinks. Mr. Montgomery turns around to display his broad muscled back to Charlotte.

“Does it look alright? I swear, it hurts more than I expected.” He says and Charlotte stammers to answer him.

“It is actually pretty… angry looking. You might need some ice or aloe or something.” She offers, wishing she knew what would actually do the trick. She hates this entire thing, standing and swaying, her anxiety swelling, the tea sandwiches she enjoyed threatening to make a reappearance.

The driver announces Parliament on their right and The Elizabeth Tower where Big Ben, which is actually the name of the bell, not the tower, is held. 

“Well, I doubt we have that, but I think I can advise that for the future, they need to lower the temp of the tea before serving, and maybe add a first aid kit, with aloe, yeah?” He asks rhetorically.

“Mr. Montgomery…” Charlotte starts.

“Call me Oliver, miss…”

“Oliver.” She starts again.

“And your name?”

“Sorry, it’s Charlotte. Oliver…”

“Charlotte.” He says thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“Oliver. I am trying to apologize. I feel awful for maiming you like this.” Charlotte clenches her teeth like the emoji she uses when she is texting something she has to pretend to feel sorry for saying. Only she really is sorry she maimed him.

“Is it really that bad?” He asks.

The little old lady closest to the aisle nods up at him to confirm it is in fact, quite bad. “You may need a hospital, mister.” She croaks out and that does it for Charlotte. She sinks into her seat and places her face in her hands. She had been supremely awful, why had she been so worried about this man and why he wanted tea anyway?

Mary returns with a towel and hands it to Oliver who then hands it back to her, “Would you mind dabbing off what’s left?”

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t think I should touch it, it’s welted.” She says after a moment of judging how she might approach the red river of skin on the back of her boss.

“Bollocks.” He says in response and Mary blushes.

“Sorry sir.”

Charlotte sits back up, pulling her phone out and googling.

“Let’s get the towel wet with some cool water for now?” She suggests.

The little lady pulls a bottle from a large handbag and offers it over. Charlotte thanks her with a nod and pours the water over the towel and beckons Oliver to turn back around so she can place it gently on his back.

The driver comes on over the intercom again. “Sorry ladies and gents. Part of our lovely city is this horrendous congestion. Take the good with bad, I guess you might say. Let us know if you need a refill on the bubbly! We’ll be here for a few, then off to see the Buckingham.” Her accent pronounces the word like buck-in-hem.

The bus lurches forward and Charlotte shifts unsteadily on her feet, recovering just in time for it to stop and shift them back the other way. She struggles to maintain the rag on his back. They must have moved up a yard. Oliver offers a small smile back towards Charlotte. “Would you like to sit?” He offers, gesturing to the bench.

“Sure…”

“I’ll sit next to you, and you can hold this on for me if you don’t mind?”

“It’s the least I can do.” She smiles apologetically.

“So, you were asking me why I was on the bus?” He asks, resuming the answer to what she had almost asked earlier.

“Yeah, well, I think I’ve got it all sorted.” Charlotte admits, “You’re the boss?”

“I’m the new owner, as it were. Yes.”

Charlotte’s wheels are turning again, she can’t for the life of her figure out why this large lumberjack of a man would buy a tea tour bus of all things, but she has already injured him for her inane thinking and now, is feeling hesitant about even thinking about thinking about it. So, she just sits and looks at him. Sitting on this small bench his body towers hers, she is like the sapling planted next to the strong glorious oak. His honey-colored eyes set under thick dark lashes, the unfair kind of lashes. Why is it always men who have the effortlessly great lashes?

“You alright?” He asks after a few beats of her awkward staring.

“Yes, sorry.” She blinks and tears her eyes from him.

“I got the ex-wife’s tea endeavors in the split.” He explains, as if he could read her mind. “The full tea, is that she was seeing my business partner and well, here we are.” He pauses to reflect, and she thinks, superficially, at least from the front, or the side, she could never conceive of a reason a woman would cheat on this beautiful man. Maybe she only ever saw him from behind on a bus? she thinks comically.

“I’m sorry.” Is what she says out loud.

“Yeah, well. Such is life, I suppose. Can I ask you, why are you by yourself on her Miss Charlotte?”

“I was stood up.” She says simply, not feeling like explaining the whole thing.

“Damn. Well, he’s a bloody idiot then, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is. For sure.” She smiles.

The bus lurches and sputters and returns to a stop again, advancing very little for the third of fourth time in a row.

“You know what? The company is nice enough, but my burn isn’t having the best time sitting here with this stop and go. Would you care to accompany me to the hospital? I think I’d like to get some burn crème or something for this.” He nods back towards his back as if she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Charlotte thinks on it for a moment.

“I was going to get a ticket to see The Cursed Child for this afternoon.” She says smartly. Though she does intend to go with him, she doesn’t want to appear too eager.

“Oh nice, you have tickets already?” He asks.

“No. I just decided when we were driving past.”

“Ahh, I see.” A knowing look on his brow, one that hints that she probably won’t be able to get even one ticket. “How about this… you come with me to get some creme, a wash and fresh shirt and I will get us both tickets to see the show this afternoon. I know someone at the theater.” He winks. 

She doesn’t respond quickly, she times it up so it comes off like he’s convinced her. “Yeah, okay. Let’s get you to the doctor then.”

As they exit the bus in between lurches a text notification from Henry appears on her phone.

“Sorry babes. I'm a tosser, I know. Drinks later?” He asks. Charlotte contemplates ignoring him like he had her yesterday, but she considers that she shouldn't be mad, but thankful that he bought the ticket that provided this new opportunity for an evening with a charming and interesting man.

“I’m headed to the hospital. And then the theater to see our boy, HP. I’ll spill the tea later. Xx.” She sends before slipping the phone into her bag and repositioning the wet rag on Oliver’s bare back. She turns back to see the old woman nearest the bus window covering her mouth again. Charlotte rolls her eyes at her and then smiles.