[11] High Tea

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A/N: Surprise Update! This is on hold, but I had half of this chapter written from a while ago and I just decided to finish it this weekend for some reason.

If you haven't icked it up from the chapter title, they get high tea at Harrods. Personally, I've been to Harrods and had high tea as well but it was 3 years ago and I can't really remember it, so yeah,  this description of it might not be accurate.

Song is Heartbeat by Scouting For Girls. Enjoy!

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After many failed attempts I eventually convinced Eleanora into agreeing we stop for food. Her excuse for her reconciliation being that my grumbling stomach was irritating to her precious little ears.

            We were in Knightsbridge, a prestigious area filled with expensive housing and often prissy residents, famous for the department store which promises to offer everything.

            The signature green awnings of the upmarket department store in question poked into view. We’d been insistent on stopping at a cheap McDonalds we’d caught sight of but now in Eleanora’s eyes, our plans were rapidly changing.

            “No.” I answered her suggestive eyes sternly, mostly because my heart had been irreversibly set on a McChicken burger and I wasn’t planning to trade it for an afternoon in a spotless room stocked with teabags or pricey jewellery. She replied with pleading, enlarged eyes which were a struggle to fight off. “’M hungry.” I reasoned, adamantly padding towards the famous yellow signage.

            “C’mon,” she dismissed, lunging for the limp hand I had at my side and already making an effort to steer me away. “There’s bound to be food in there.”

            “Hey!” I protested but to no avail. Within seconds we were nearing the grand structure at an alarming speed, thick hordes of grey clouds dampening the sky above it.

            We trampled over the darkened footpath veined with moss filled cracks, a satisfied grin painted on her lips while I wore a look of annoyance. While crossing the wide street I felt a droplet of icy water assault the back of my neck and was suddenly grateful for the oncoming awnings which offered instant protection. The fresh, cold air nipped at our exposed skin as we slide under the cover, watching the raindrops forcefully hit the weathered footpaths. I huffed, adjusted my collar and nodded politely at Eleanora, who had decided to hold the door open like a concierge, before stepping through the threshold.

            The atmosphere had changed drastically. I’d gone from a wet, miserable roadside to a posh, warm entrance lined with gold and furnished with timeless pieces. We were in fucking Harrods.

            “Now let’s see about getting that stomach of yours fed.” she said, approaching a list of all the departments and running her index finger over the large print. I simply hid my frozen hands deep in my pockets and swivelled my head around the room uncomfortably, feeling utterly out of place. There was piano playing softly in the background and the low sound of customers amongst the noise of my awkward feet squeaking over the polished floors. “Oooh, they have high tea on the fourth floor.” she announced, making me spin my attention away from the ridiculously dressed staff.

            “And how in god’s name are we going to afford that?” I asked restlessly, evidently edging to leave the premises as soon as possible. 

            “I’m rich, remember.” she answered with a playful wink, which did absolutely nothing towards helping my nerves.

            Without a second to spare she pushed me in the direction of the elevators like the decision had already been made. To get there we had to pass through a room selling various and vibrant produce displayed in gold rimmed, deli-like counters. Men in barbershop quartet hats and crisp white shirts tended to buyers, and I wondered if they knew how much they all looked like twats. We weaved our way through the linoleum floor under chandeliers decorated with leaves and fruit, narrowly avoiding a member of staff carrying a try of multiple cured meats.

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