Steeped

CHAPTER ONE

Sunday, April 13th

Agatha stared at the strange menu, tempted to place an order for Love. She put down the thick cardstock with its quaint typewriter font and scrutinised the establishment that sold such oddly labelled teas. The London rain pelted the window beside them—an unexpected downpour had driven them to seek shelter through the closest unlocked door. A sagging plant occupied the corner. Agatha and her friends sat on mismatched wooden chairs at the only table inside a converted English pub, beneath which her umbrella formed a small puddle. The exposed industrial-age brick walls, naked Edison bulbs that dangled from black cords, and barista brown floors should have attracted the younger, hipper patrons of Notting Hill, but they hadn’t. Save for them, the place was empty. A Dev Patel lookalike pretended not to watch them from behind the front counter as he waited for them to place an order.

“What do you think is going on here?” Agatha asked her friends, leaning in, hoping the loud smattering of fat raindrops masked her words. She scrunched her nose and pushed the prickling strands of her fresh French bob off her forehead for the hundredth time that day.

“I don’t know,” said Odey, “but I like the idea. It’s cute and clever, don’t you think? A good marketing technique.” She spruced her curls in the selfie-cam of her phone and cleaned the edges of her raspberry red lipstick with the tip of her manicured nails.

“It’s a tacky gimmick,” said Shri. She leaned back in her chair and untangled the loose end of her tight ponytail with her fingers. Her luscious black strands almost disappeared against her black crew neck shirt. “I mean, I don’t even know what kind of teas these are.”

“Maybe we should ask,” said Odey.

“Maybe it’s a front for something,” said Agatha. “The whole setup is a bit off-kilter, isn’t it? One table, no equipment, a weird menu…not even a box of teas on display. I don’t remember seeing a sign outside, do you? What is this place even called? Something shady is going on here.”

“It looks like a new establishment,” said Shri. “You’ve written a few too many murder mysteries. Maybe you can use this place as a setting for your next book.”

Agatha shrugged. “I can’t help that I have a mind for murder.”

“Sir,” said Odey, beckoning the man behind the counter.

“Yes?” he asked, perking up.

“Is this a front for drugs or money laundering or something?”

“Odey,” Agatha objected, aghast. “You’re going to get us killed.”

The man behind the counter smirked. “No drugs. Just tea.”

“And what sort of teas are they?” asked Odey. “Green, black, or maybe a nice herbal? I could go for an herbal tea right about now.”

“No, just what it says on the menu.”

Agatha glanced at the menu again, not that she had forgotten it. It had the word teas stamped across the top, Love, Power, and Wealth stacked in one neat column, and a price of five pounds listed next to each. The whole thing could have fit on a business card.

“Okay, but what does this mean?” asked Shri, holding up the menu. “These are not tea flavours. They’re random words.”

The young man walked over to them, his hands in his pockets. On closer inspection, Agatha noticed the fine lines that branched from the corner of his dark eyes and a fleck of white in his cropped beard. He must have been about their age, on the cusp of thirty.

“They’re not random words. They’re the three things people want most. And they also happen to be teas, just not the teas you’re used to.”

“But what do they taste like?” asked Shri.

“Well, what does wealth taste like to you?”

“Why would you assume I want wealth?” She crossed her arms and glanced at the pleather crossbody bag nestled between the two designer ones on the fourth chair at their table. Her dark circles looked darker against her brightening blush.

“Doesn’t everyone want wealth?” he said.   

“Sure, but I don’t want a tea that tastes like pennies,” said Agatha, drawing the attention away from her friend.

“It won’t taste like pennies. These teas are…special. You’re not just ordering tea.”

“Do they come with a treat?” asked Odey. “I love it when I get a helping of biscuits with my tea.”

“No, you’ll get exactly what you ordered,” he said.

“So, just the tea, then?”

“No, the tea and what you ordered. Love, power, or wealth,” he said. The ladies exchanged a confused look.

Agatha tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. These teas are…enchanted. I recommend ordering what you want most in life.” He smiled a breezy smile, shifting his weight on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. “Which one do you want?”

“Wait,” said Shri, rolling her eyes. “Are you saying that, if I order Wealth, I’ll get wealth?”

“That’s right.”

Shri groaned. “So, it is a gimmick.”

“What’s your name, love?” asked Odey.

“Neil,” he said.

“Hi, Neil. I’m Odey. This is Shri and Agatha. We’re going to need you to explain yourself. You’re saying the teas are magic?”

“I don’t know how to explain it more simply. Drinking these teas is like reading tea leaves—they’re hard to interpret but they’ll give you what you’re looking for if you read them right,” he said. “If you drink Love, you’ll find love. If you drink Power, you’ll find power. If you drink Wealth, you’ll find wealth. It’s just how they work.”

“It’s definitely drugs,” said Agatha.

“No more than any other tea,” he said.

“But kind of like other magic teas?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Have you tried them?” asked Odey. “Did they work for you?”

“Sort of. In a sense. Wanting something and getting it are two different experiences, I guess.”

“Huh, I like where your head’s at, Neil,” said Odey. “I’ll have Power.”

“I guess I’m having Wealth,” said Shri, handing him her menu.

“And you?” said Neil.

Love. Agatha stared down at the menu with glazed eyes and a lump in her throat. She could feel her two friends and pitying gazes boring into her. She didn’t dare meet their eyes. All morning, she had a snotty cry over how alone she was in the world, and she didn’t want to make a scene in public. Again. Not like last time. Besides, no tea, however enchanted, could give her what she wanted most, no matter what Neil said.

“Let’s complete the set.” Agatha collected the menus and handed them to him.

Neil gave her a curt nod. “Love it is.” Menus in hand, he returned to his post. They watched him clatter about with cups and saucers and the tin cans he pulled from beneath the counter. He hurried to and fro, glancing at them as if they were the suspicious ones before returning to his task.

“We’re going to die here,” Agatha insisted, tapping her fingers on the table.

“Do you ever not think about murder?” asked Odey.

“I mean, it’s impossible not to think about, no?” said Agatha. “It could happen to anyone, at any moment.”

“Oh, come on! This is kind of fun in a quirky way,” said Odey. “Like tea and a show. I bet in a couple of months, this place will be buzzing, and he’ll go full Wonka.”

“Why does everything have to be an experience now?” asked Shri. “Can’t I order my food without a fuss?”

Agatha patted her hand. “You’ll survive, Shri. And if you don’t, I’ll dedicate my next book to you. Short of that, how are you both doing?”

“Nothing’s changed,” said Shri. “Still taking shifts where I can.”

“And your parents?”

Shri pressed her lips. “They’re looking but they haven’t found anything yet. The restaurant was their life, and now it’s gone, so we’ll see.”

“It’ll work out,” said Agatha. She paused to give Shri a chance to fill the silence, but she didn’t. She turned to Odey. “How about you?”

Odey shook her head. “All I do is work. I’ve been writing a new pitch for a lab, but it hasn’t quite come together. I’m not feeling great about my chances of getting ahead this year.”

“How’s Grace?”

“She’s alright,” said Odey, nodding her head and wringing her hands. “We haven’t had a proper date night in a while, but she’s giving me a pass for now. And you? How are you holding up?” Odey reached out and held her hand.

Agatha scrunched her face like she was in pain. She leaned in and spoke in a hush. “So, I did a weird thing.”

“How weird?” asked Shri, perking up. “Hoarding cats weird or snapped and went on a murder spree weird?”

“More like bought a Polaroid camera and took nudes, weird.”

“Intriguing,” said Odey. “Say more.”

“I’m thirty now, and it’s all going down from here, isn’t it? I mean, literally. And no one has seen this for a long time,” she said, gesturing to herself. “I might never find someone, and I wanted to capture myself at my peak.”

“Why not take them on your phone like everyone else?” asked Shri.

“But what if I get hacked? I can’t trust the cloud or a nosy boyfriend who goes through my phone or, worse, a vengeful ex. I did this for me. This way I can keep them offline, in a safe, and if I ever want to show them to a future partner, I could let him look at them under my supervision. And then, they go back into the safe. Remind me to buy a safe.”

“What happens if you get murdered?” asked Shri. “Then coppers will see your nudes.”

“You’re going to have to sneak in and destroy them before the police get there, obviously.”

“Have you thought about trying dating apps again?” asked Odey.

Agatha gagged. “God no, what a mess those have become. You?” she said, turning to Shri.

“I can’t be bothered to think about dating right now.”

Before they could exchange another word, Neil approached their table with a wooden tray in hand. He set it down before them, avoiding eye contact. Agatha blushed. 

The tray cradled three eclectic teapots with three matching teacups. He picked up the red clay pot shaped like a crouching dragon. Its tail curved above its body into a handle, and its long neck and head formed a spout. Steam trickled out from its gaping mouth. He set a simple clay teacup before Odey and poured a reddish black tea into it. Though his face remained blank, Agatha noted his shaky hands. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” he said.

She whipped out her phone and snapped a few pictures. “I love this. Well done, Neil.”

Neil gave a slight bow and a flourish of his hand. “Thanks, I try.” Next, he picked up a green glazed teapot with a golden handle and placed it in front of Shri. A mosaic of glued-on emerald gems gleamed along the rim of its lid and its base. He poured into a sturdy dark green mug with a matching gold handle and faux emerald-encrusted base. The tea was a mossy green.

“Look at that,” said Shri. “It’s green tea. I mean you can add that in brackets beside the word Wealth.”

“It’s not green tea,” said Neil. “You’ll see. Or you’ll taste, I should say.”

“That must be for me,” said Agatha nodding to the intricate glass teapot. A pink rose sat atop the lid and a delicate green vine tipped with glass leaves formed the handle that twirled above it. Its matching teacup had a tiny rose tucked in between the lip of the cup and the top of the handle, and its leafy saucer curled a bit at the edges, lifting it a little off the table. As Neil poured the petal pink tea inside it, she caught a whiff of mulled wine and something warm she couldn’t put a finger on.

“Enjoy but don’t mix them or share cups. I don’t know what will happen to you if you do.” 

Agatha waited for a smirk or a wink but it never came. Neil returned to his perch behind the counter and put away his tray. He tried to look busy on his phone but, unlike his lookalike, he was not a good actor. He kept glancing in their direction though he pretended not to.

The steaming teas beckoned. “Well, then,” said Agatha lifting her cup from her saucer, “To love, power, and wealth.”

“To us and to better days ahead,” said Odey. They gently clinked their cups together.

Maybe it was that first sip of hot tea warming her from the inside or the golden rays of light breaking through thinning clouds or the songbirds that chirped above the shop’s awning now that the rain trickled out, but Agatha lightened. Her burdens melted away along with the knots in her back. She leaned into each toasty, cinnamony, mulled wine-ish sip. And, like the bottom of a mug of mulled wine, the tea gave her the most pleasant buzz. After a year of writer’s block, of sitting down on her couch and staring at a blank page day after day, she caught the inklings of inspiration. A new story coming together. A teamaker who murders his patrons with a poisonous tea too delicious to resist.

Agatha sighed. “I don’t care if it’s drugs. This is the best tea I’ve ever had.”

Odey nodded with a wide smile. “Mine is like a smoky fire with a hint of chilli peppers and maybe chocolate?”

“How does yours taste, Shri?”

Shri set down her mug, lifted the lid of her teapot, and took a deep breath. “It’s not green tea. It’s sweet and soft, but not in an offensive way. Almost like whipped cream or mascarpone cheese.” She took another sip. “I can taste pistachios or almonds. I don’t know. I can’t tell, but it’s good.”

They settled into their teas and said little else until they drank the last drops clinging to the bottom of their teapots. Neil approached them with a hesitant step.

“How was that?” he asked.

“You’re on to something here, Neil,” said Odey. “I’m going to come back with more people and tell everyone.”

He winced. “Oh, that’s alright. I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You don’t want more customers?”

“No, the fewer, the better.”

“What kind of shop doesn’t want customers?” asked Shri. “I mean, this is good. It’s surprisingly good.”

“Thanks, but I don’t plan on being in business for long. That’s why there’s no name above the shop.”

Agatha cringed. He did hear me earlier.

“That’s too bad,” said Odey. “I’ll just have to come back sooner than later, then. Mum would love this tea.”

“So, how long before you close shop?” asked Agatha.

“Maybe a couple of months.” He looked out the window. “Well, I’d offer you something else, but I have nothing else, as you can see.”

“Just the bill then,” said Odey.

“Five pounds each, fifteen for the lot,” he said.

“I’ve got this,” said Agatha.

Shri reached for her purse across the table. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to. I commandeered your purses to my side for this precise reason. It was the plan all along. Besides, it makes me happy, and you need to let me do it for my own sake. I need every drop of dopamine I can get.” Agatha reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet in one smooth motion. It was so organized and neatly packed, like a well-played game of Tetris, that she never fished for an item. From the stack of bills, one in each denomination, she pulled out a twenty and then the ten beside it and handed them to Neil.

“This is too much,” he said. He tried to hand the ten back. “I’ll get some change for the rest.”

Agatha stood, gathered her coat, and handed the other two coats to her friends. The good weather called out to her. “No need. This was great. We loved our teas.” She threw her tanned coat over her tanned sweater and slung her tanned purse over her shoulder. As she handed Shri’s bag to her by its fraying handle, she chastised herself for buying a logo-less luxury object that cost more than a year’s groceries. Then she countered with a reminder she intended to carry her well-made leather purse for the rest of her life. Wasn’t that better for the planet, anyway?

“Thanks,” said Neil. “And good luck with whatever the teas bring you.”

“Can you imagine if they actually work?” asked Odey clutching her Chanel Wallet on Chain. “I hope they do. A part of me always wants to believe in magic, even though I know better.”

“You with a little more power? You would rule the world,” said Agatha.

“I would, wouldn’t I?” said Odey with a smirk and shimmy of her shoulders.

“Alright, let’s free up the table,” said Shri. And with that, they headed out into the colourful streets of Notting Hill.

Agatha greeted the sunshine with a beaming smile, despite the uncomfortable task that lay ahead of her that day. The refreshing April air stirred her awake. For the first time in a long time, she had a sense of hope. Like something good was possible again. Like love might be around the corner.

They hardly walked ten steps before Neil ran out after them. “You forgot your umbrella.” He held it out for Agatha.

“Thanks,” she said. 

When she went to take it from him, he wouldn’t let it go. He squeezed brows and cast his eyes down, as if ashamed.

“I just want to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything that’s about to happen to you. Good luck.”