Livora Gracely

The rain arrived early. There was room for three.

Before Eleven

The next morning, the rain reached Sol’s tea stall before Ned did.

It ran along the great green leaf above the entrance and fell from its tip in a steady thread. Sol had brought the outside cups in. One small bowl remained on the stump beside the doorway, filling faster than he could have poured it.

Inside the coconut shell, Tess sat with a slice of mango in her paws.

“I thought we had until eleven,” she said.

“So did the washing.”

Sol glanced at the damp cloths he had just taken from the line.

Then a blue hood appeared beneath the leaf.

Ned lifted one paw.

“Pella sent me.”

“Come in.”

“I’ve only got a message.”

“The stool won’t mind.”

Not a Doorpost

Ned raised the low edge of the leaf as he stepped towards the entrance. Water slipped down the back of his sleeve.

Tess put her mango on its little plate and reached for a towel.

“Here.”

He took it in his free paw, but stayed beneath the leaf, holding its edge above his head.

Sol looked up from the cups.

“There’s a hook beside you.”

Ned found it under a fold of green. He settled the leaf’s short loop over it and lowered his arm.

The canopy held.

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t need a permanent doorman.”

Ned stepped inside.

Rain pattered above the shell, louder where it struck the leaf. He wiped his face, then his paws. Sol pointed to a peg near the entrance.

Ned unfastened his raincoat. Before hanging it up, he took a folded paper from its inside pocket and laid it on the dry counter.

“I should give you that.”

“In a moment. Sit down first.”

Three woven stools stood beneath the counter. Tess occupied one. Sol drew the next out for Ned, then turned back to the teapot.

Ned sat with the towel across his knees.

The Waiting Message

Sol filled a cup and put it in front of him.

Ned wrapped both paws round it.

The warmth reached his fingers slowly. Outside, the little bowl on the stump had begun to spill over.

“Will you want the things outside brought in?” he asked.

“They’re in.”

“The bowl?”

“That’s having a wash.”

Tess laughed and pushed the plate of mango towards him.

Ned took a slice.

For a while, they listened to the rain. It struck the canopy in quick, uneven taps, then gathered into larger drops along the lowest edge.

Tess looked towards a trailing stem beside Sol’s shelf.

“My vine’s found the crack in the side of the house.”

“Going out or coming in?” Sol asked.

“Both, apparently. Bea’s coming to look when this stops.”

Ned glanced at his coat.

“I ought to get back before Pella wonders.”

Sol took the folded paper from the counter.

“Let’s see what she needs.”

He opened it, smoothing the crease beside the cups.

Tess finished her slice of mango. Ned waited with his paws still round the warm cup.

Already Underway

Sol read the note once.

Then he looked at Ned.

“Is something wrong?” Ned asked.

“No.”

Sol turned the paper so he could see.

Tell Sol to wait until the rain stops before collecting the bread. I’ll keep it here. No need to get soaked.

Ned read the last line twice.

Outside, another drop fell from the leaf and landed squarely in the overflowing bowl.

“I left before it started,” he said.

“I know.”

“Nearly made it.”

Sol set the note beside the teapot.

“Well, we can do what she asks.”

Ned looked towards the blue raincoat hanging by the entrance. A small dark patch was growing beneath its hem.

Then he settled a little farther onto his stool.

“The waiting part?”

“Yes.”

Tess offered him the last piece of mango.

Ned took it.

“That part’s already underway.”

Sol sat on the third stool and poured his own tea.

Beyond the leaf, the rain carried on without asking anyone to hurry.