Tea of Warmth

It was a grey day in Plymouth, a day when the rain didn't just fall; it seemed to hover as if it were something solid that you could touch. It seeped into everything and everyone. My little tea shop on the cobbled seafront promenade had become a haven for people fleeing the rain and seeking warmth all afternoon.

The rain had been falling for hours, a rolling grey blanket of water that moved across the seaside city blurring the day into an endless melancholic haze.

The bell above the door tinkled softly as you came in. You had a weathered look about you, the look of someone who spent most of their time outdoors. You often passed through my tea shop after a day patrolling the coast. I knew you did this as I'd sometimes catch a glimpse of you in the distance on the water boarding fishing boats from an inflatable patrol boat, as I walked along the harbour to work.

Usually, when you stop in, you'd be covered in sand or seaweed, saltwater tangling in your hair, and a smile on your face that spread a little warmth through any chill. Today, though, you were particularly soaked, your waterproof jacket glistening with raindrops.

You smiled your familiar smile, which brought a bit of sunshine with it, even on the greyest days.

'Afternoon,' you said, your voice warm and welcoming. 'Stormy out there, isn't it?.'

I nodded, glancing out the window and noticing how grey the sky and sea were. 'It's one of those days. The weatherman said it was sunny skies today. The liar."

You laughed; the sound was relaxed and easy and warmed the shop. 'Earl grey?.' I asked, already knowing the answer.

'You know me too well.' you said, with a smile on your face.

I placed your order, and you went to your favourite seat by the window. The view from there overlooked the world-famous Barbican. Today, the windowpane was rain-streaked, and the view outside was a blur of grey, fitting for a Monday afternoon.

I brought over your tea and the usual flapjack. I placed them on the small wooden table before you. You thanked me with a nod and a smile, but you didn't seem to look at me. Instead, you watched what looked like a tourist out in the rain.

The middle aged tourist appeared lost and frustrated, with a backpack hanging from one shoulder and a wet map in her gloved hands. Her hair was wet from the rain, and her bangs were pressed to her forehead, out of place and cold. Even the guidebook she was trying to read seemed as soaked as she was.

I could see the sympathy in your expression as you watched her. You were the kind of person who noticed things. The kind of person who couldn't sit there and watch a stranger struggle.

You stood up and walked over to the counter. 'Could I get another cup of tea please?' you asked as you looked for your wallet. 'Same as mine?'

'Sure.' I said. Understanding immediately. I glanced over at the damp tourist across the road and smiled. Touched by what was about to happen.

You took the cup of tea, quickly smiled, and added a flapjack to the saucer. Then, with another smile and a nod, you took the tea and headed for the door with purposeful steps.

The bell tinkled softly again as you stepped outside into the rain. I watched from the window as you crossed the road and approached the lady. Startled, she looked up as you spoke out to her, clutching at the saucer with one hand and shielding it from the rain with the other. I couldn't hear what the two of you were saying, but I saw how her face lit up with the same warmth that yours does as you offered her the cup of tea and the soggy flapjack.

You both spoke for a moment, completely unphased by the blanket of rain soaking you both. Her face flashed a mix of surprise, relief and gratitude. You pointed down the street, I assume, giving her directions. She smiled and then sipped on the tea. Her smile grew as you continued to talk.

The two of you stood there in the rain for a few moments. The cold and wet seemed to fade into the background as you shared that small, warm moment of human connection. Then, with a final nod and a smile, she tucked the map into her bag, sipped the last of the tea, and headed in the direction you'd pointed. You watched her go for a moment before turning back to the shop.

As you stepped back inside, the bell tingled softly once more. You were drenched, but there was a contentment in your eyes that hadn't been there before. You returned to your seat by the window, sipping your tea as if nothing unusual had happened.

'You didn't have to do that, you know,' I said quietly as I came over to clear away the empty cup and saucer you brought back with you. 'You didn't have to bring her a cup of tea.'

Just as quietly, you shrugged, a modest smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. 'It was only a cup of tea.'

But it wasn't just a cup of tea; it was more than that, and we both knew it. That small act of kindness likely made all the difference to that wet tourist's day. She had been a lost stranger in an even stranger place, lost and cold, alone to face the elements. You gave her directions and shared a cup of tea and a moment's warmth and connection with her. What you did still to this day serves as a reminder that sometimes the smallest of gestures, like a cup of tea on a rainy day, can mean all the difference to someone else who is silently struggling.

You finished your tea, and prepared to leave. The rain outside was beginning to thunder down even harder, and the grey skies seemed only to grow darker. You stood up, pulling your still-wet jacket over your shoulders. You gave me a quick wave as you headed for the door. The strong gust of chaos cold that seeped in when you opened the door had no effect on your warmth as you smiled over at me that last time.

"Take care," you said, the familiar warmth in your voice.

"See you soon," I replied, watching you disappear into the rain.

The bell tinkled softly behind you, its sound gently echoed. I returned to the counter, where I couldn't help but smile, knowing that your small kindness had brightened more than just one person's day.