𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐀 ✔︎ (ongoing)

|10| hiding places

I wake up the next day to find Grandad by my side. He's sitting on the end of my bed, watching me with something that looks like sadness.

"What's wrong, Grandad?" I ask.

"Have you made up your mind?"

I give him a questioning look.

"You won't share our family secret," he says, looking straight into my eyes.

"It shouldn't be a family secret," I say. "It should be a world remedy."

He shoots me a look of despair.

"If you don't change your mind today, you won't be staying here any longer tomorrow," he tells me.

"You mean, you'll kick me out of here, just like that?" I ask.

Angry tears threaten to fall off my eyes but I hold them back as Grandad nods.

I turn my head away.

"Fine," I mumble.

I won't give up on sharing the secret. No one, nothing is going to stop me.

"I didn't expect this from you," he says and then leaves my room.

I get up and shower. What else is there to do? Usually, I have a cold shower but this time, I turn it up to the hottest my skin can handle.

I'm angry.

Why can't he just be on my side? Things aren't going to work out well if one of us disagrees on something that the other wants to do.

I don't just want to do it. I have to do it. For his safety. I don't really care about Richard's money.

After the shower, I brush my teeth and get changed into black and white trainers, grey joggers, black t-shirt and black puffer jacket then slip into the kitchen downstairs while Grandad is serving a family of six some breadsticks, peppermint tea and biscuits.

I look around for the password-protected containers. They aren't there. The spearmint one isn't there so does that mean it's run out? No, it can't be because the Holin herb one is gone too.

That must only mean one thing.

Grandad's deliberately hid them.

I open all the cupboards, search every drawer, peer into the fridge and even look under the table and behind kettles and teapots but they're not in sight.

Yet, they still must be in the kitchen because Grandad is serving peppermint tea which needs the Holin herb included.

As I am wondering about what I should do next, Grandad comes into the kitchen and I absentmindedly smile at him.

He does it back, like the faintest smile of a ghost and stacks piles of teacups, plates and saucers in the dishwasher.

I watch him take a look at his notebook where he usually jots down orders and try to read it across his shoulder, but none of the orders mention mint tea, which means I'll have to wait for the next mint tea order.

"Do you need a hand?" I ask.

"No thank you," he says, gruffly. "You won't know where the ingredients are anyway, I've rearranged them."

I sigh as he starts brewing lavender tea and pours ginger and English tea into separate teacups of ten. Then, he opens the oven and takes out some hot, butter croissants, fruit tarts and chocolate eclairs.

"You can give me a hand with serving," he suggests when he finishes laying the pastries out onto some plates. "Give Donald his usual ginger tea and two croissants, Cecilia wants three fruit tarts and English tea, Gloria wants a cup of ginger tea and a cup of English tea with a croissant and an eclair, you'll see a new family who all want English tea with an eclair each and there's a new couple who each want ginger tea and one of them wants a fruit tart."