10.
Bettys (est. 1919)
YO-YO sips his coffee and reflects on his narrow escape. The emerald ring nestles against his chest. He knows he has to be on his guard if he is to prevent the bad guys getting it or the rightful owner reclaiming it. He finds it difficult to stand on the moral high ground given that he himself stole it in the first place but never mind. He's a boy in a cake shop and he will do what boys do. He observes the cakes gliding by on dainty trolleys to sate the hunger pangs of other elevensiers. He ticks them off as they pass his table.
Bakewell pudding, white icing concealing something soft, topped with red cherry
Cherry Genoa (buttery sponge packed with raisins and glacé cherries)
Victoria Sponge (quintessential summer cake)
Grand Cru chocolate torte (deliciously decadent)
Almond and cherry cake (light and simple)
Austrian Linzer Torte (moist and lightly spiced)
Stem ginger cake (chunks of stem ginger)
Lemon and lime citrus cake (light, refreshing citrus glaze)
Fat Rascals (plump and fruity cookies)
Date and orange cake (chopped dates, orange peel and a splash of whisky)
Yorkshire Tea Loaf (traditional fruit cake laced with Yorkshire tea)
What? No scones? At Bettys? You gotta be kidding. Yo-yo wants scones and cucumber sandwiches.
''It's a little early for cream, my love,'' says the white-aproned waitress.
''Bring us a fat rascal, then,'' says Yo-yo.
The waitress winks and bustles away.
Bettys Tea Rooms have been here in St Helen's Square since the 1920s. Part of a six-café chain started by the Swiss confectioner Frederick Belmont in Harrogate's Cambridge Crescent in 1919, the outlet in York is modelled on the cruise-liner RMS Queen Mary. During World War II it was a popular haunt for American and Canadian airmen, many of whom were based around York and at Linton-on-Ouse. The origin of the name is unclear but some of the suggestions include Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the late Queen Mother, someone named Betty Lupton and a little girl called Betty who interrupted the name-selection meeting to ask if anyone wanted more tea or cakes. Many pedants, including that well-known bore Elliot Blaze, have commented on the lack of apostrophe in the name and have been told, somewhat shirtily, that ''that's how it's spelled so get over it.'' All six branches of Bettys are in Yorkshire. Until 1976, there was a branch in Leeds' Commercial Street but it closed and is now a mobile phone shop. Such are the times. Or perhaps such is the City of Leeds.
''Mind if I join you?'' It is a beautiful woman with waist-length blonde hair. She is dressed in a flowing, satiny blue robe. She is absolutely and ball-breakingly beautiful. Obviously Yo-yo stutters ''y…yes'' and finds himself facing the luscious Mistress Rue.
''You look normal today,'' he blurts.
Rue rolls out a low, silken laugh. ''You sure know how to flatter a lady,'' she says. A shiver shoots down Yo-yo's spine.
''I mean the tattoos,'' he blushes. ''They're gone.''
''Ah,'' says Rue. ''My tattoos. They only appear when I take off my clothes.'' She strokes Yo-yo's cheek with a long, shiny blue fingernail. ''Maybe you can see them later, lovely boy.''
Yo-yo's stomach seems to contract.
Rue orders vanilla slices from a passing trolley containing
Curd tart
Fresh fruit tart
Chocolate roulade
Fresh fruit pavlova
Walnut tart
''Naughty but nice,'' heavy-breathes Rue, ''A little like me..…and I do like a bit of vanilla… do you fancy a tart? I bet you'd ravish a tart.'' Yo-yo's heart leaps into his throat. ''I love cream,'' Rue confesses, ''Thick cream. It's so good for the skin.''
''Do you rub it in?'' Yo-yo croaks.
''Sometimes,'' says Rue. ''Sometimes I rub cream all over my body.''
Yo-yo's heart thumps. ''Doesn't it make you fat?'' he blurts, wishing he could recall the words in the instant he has uttered them. He feels himself sweating.
Rue arches an eyebrow. ''You really do know how to woo a woman, don't you?''
Since the only women Yo-yo knows are Aunty Latch, Mrs Lollipop and Matron Majeiskii, and since all three are what one might describe kindly as 'somewhat on the stout side', and since Yo-yo has never tried to woo any of them, even in his most desperate dreams, he is just a shade out of his depth here.
When the vanilla slice comes, it is enormous. Rue licks cream off her fork with a slow, deliberate twirl of the tongue, a slow, deliberate lick of the lips and a low, slow mmmmmmmmm that makes Yo-yo's groin tingle disconcertingly.
''Do you have a girlfriend, Yo-yo?'' she asks.
''No,'' says Yo-yo. Not unless you count that lovely lamb in Swaledale, which he doesn't.
''Boyfriend, then?''
''Certainly not,'' he splutters into his fat rascal. ''I'm quite unattached.''
''I'm surprised,'' says Rue. ''You're a real cutie. You've got beautiful eyes.'' She gazes into them for a long, heart-stopping, stomach-churning, loin-stirring moment. ''Oh,'' she says. ''I've got cream on my fingers. I am a messy girl.'' Yo-yo watches in anguish as each fingertip is slowly sucked clean. ''Cream,'' adds Rue, ''Gets in the strangest places. Do you like custard? My sister likes custard. And ice cream. In a large cornet, of course. She likes a large cornet. Do you like a large cornet?'' Yo-yo whimpers. ''I'm meeting her later as a matter of fact. Maybe you'd like to come.''
Not half.
''I heard,'' says Rue, ''That your parents had some trouble.''
''My father killed my mother with a butcher's knife,'' mutters Yo-yo. ''There was blood all over the Venetian blinds.''
''Oh, you poor boy.'' Rue draws his head into her breasts and comforts him.
''She was having an affair,'' he adds, resurfacing.
''Oh you poor boy.'' She draws him in once again. He closes his eyes.
''My father found out and murdered her. Slit her throat like a hog in a bucket.''
''Oh you poor boy.'' Again his face is buried somewhere in Rue's silken robe.
''She was having an affair with a window cleaner.''
''Right,'' says Rue, putting some coins on the table.
''He only had one leg.''
''I see.'' Rue counts out a tip.
''I'm really upset.''
You mean rather desperate.
''I’m sorry to hear that.'' Rue gathers the silken robe round her frame. ''Anyhoo, lovely chatting. See you around.'' Leaving a vapour trail of lavender and Chanel Number Five, she wafts from Bettys across Davygate towards St Helen's Church.
''She dumped me for a one-legged window cleaner,'' gabbles Yo-yo charging after her and almost knocking down an elderly woman whose face reminds him of a horse eating a bag of bulldogs. She bellows ''Mind your manners, you ignorant lout'' as he scampers down Davygate trying to keep up with the luscious young woman. Dammit, he thinks. He was on there.
Davygate has been a road for eight hundred years. It is named after David, whose great-grandfather had come over with William the Conqueror. As Lardiner to King Stephen (1135), David had control over the nearby Forest of Galtres and supplied the Royal Larder therefrom. He also had control of this once-Roman road, 'gate' of course not meaning a hinged, five-barred portal made of wood but '-gatta', a road or way, as in Stonegatta, which Rue enters now.
''I can't really cope by myself,'' Yo-yo is babbling. ''I need a mother figure in my life, someone to comfort me and hold me close……''
Rue stops under the cross-street sign-beam that reads Ye Olde Starre Inne (more John Smiths, dammit). ''Thyme's late,'' she says. ''Wait here. I'll go find her.''
Curses. Abandoned. Look on the bright side. The sister's coming. Ho. Maybe he could be the meat in a sister sandwich. Yo-yo shakes himself like a ferret after a ride in the washing machine. But he doesn't wait where he is told. Across the street is what used to be The Scottish Shop and the pipes, the pipes are calling, calling him into a wo
rld of tartans, shields, haggis and sporrans, into the Wonderful World of