by Linda Green
‘I don’t like hash browns, thank you,’ I say.
‘They’re just potatoes Finn,’ says Mum. I wish I’d said yes now but I am not going to change my mind, because it would be too embarrassing.
‘Is there owt else you do like?’ asks sheep apron lady. She says it with a smiley voice, not a nasty one.
‘I like your sheep apron,’ I say, trying to be polite.
‘Thank you,’ she says, looking down at it for a second, ‘they say sheep all look the same, but they don’t, not really. People just don’t look closely enough.’
I want to tell her about Dolly the sheep who was cloned, who I read about in my science magazine, but the smoky lady behind us coughs loudly.
‘OK,’ says Mum, ‘so that’s this one sorted and I’ll have the same but with the mushrooms, please.’
‘Okey dokey and what about drinks?’ asks sheep apron lady.
I look again at the menu. I don’t like tea or coffee and all the other drinks are fizzy ones that come in cans and I am not allowed cans.
I shrug and make fists with my hands. I don’t want to make any more decisions because I keep getting them wrong.
‘Do you have orange juice?’ asks Mum.
‘Only Tango, love.’
‘One tea then and just a glass of tap water, please,’ says Mum. I think she wishes we had gone somewhere else now, but she is not going to admit it because grown-ups don’t like saying they were wrong. I turn my head and look back towards the door. That’s when I notice the hygiene rating sticker. I usually look at them before I go in because I don’t like eating anywhere that doesn’t have a five-star one, but I forgot to look this time. I go over to the door to inspect it while Mum is getting out her purse. It’s only got three stars. Three means satisfactory, which is like a polite way of saying it’s not very good at all. I look back at sheep apron lady behind the counter. It might not be her fault, it might be her boss who doesn’t wash their hands properly, but I can’t eat here now. Mum is holding out her hand with the money for breakfast. She is going to pay for it, but I don’t want to eat it and now there is going to be another big scene and I hate it before it has even happened.
I hurry over to Mum and tug her arm. She is too busy talking to sheep apron lady to take any notice.
‘I don’t want to eat here,’ I say as quietly as I can. Mum looks down at me with a frown. I beckon her to come closer because I don’t want to say it loudly because I know it will sound rude.
‘It’s only got three stars,’ I whisper into Mum’s ear.
‘What has?’
‘This café, it’s only got a three-star hygiene rating.’
Mum’s face does a weird expression. I’m not sure if she’s angry or sad or a mixture of things all at the same time.
‘Please Finn, couldn’t you try to ignore it just this once?’ she asks.
I shake my head. I have never eaten somewhere with three-stars, she knows that. It is one of the things about me that Dad thinks is weird. He laughed when I first said it and told me it was not like Michelin stars, where it’s about how good the food is, and then he had to explain what Michelin stars were and a few days later we went to the garage to get his tyres mended and there was a big cardboard cut-out of the Michelin man and it all got really confusing.
‘But Finn, it doesn’t mean anything and you’re only having egg, toast and beans.’
I shake my head again. Smoky lady behind us tuts.
‘Are you getting owt or not?’ she says.
Mum turns round to her. ‘We’re just sorting that out,’ she replies. Her voice is a bit shaky and that makes me feel shaky. Sheep apron lady is looking like she feels sorry for us.
‘Sorry,’ Mum says.
‘It’s OK, love,’ she says, smiling at me. ‘You take your time and let me know if there’s owt I can do to help.’
Smoky lady groans.
‘For Christ’s sake, hurry up, will you? If he’s having a strop, let someone else go first,’ she says.
‘Hey, there’s no need for that,’ says sheep apron lady. For the first time, the smile has gone from her face and her voice is spiky.
‘I think there is,’ says smoky lady. ‘I’ve got somewhere to be, and this spoilt brat is stopping me getting there. In my day you ate what you were given, and you were grateful for it.’
I start crying. I can’t help it. The tears just sort of burst out. And now everyone is looking and it’s a big scene and I don’t want to be here. I want to run away and never see any of these people again.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ says sheep apron lady to smoky lady. ‘Apologise to him.’
‘I’m not apologising to anyone,’ says smoky lady.
Mum is standing there looking like she is going to start crying at any moment too. I tug her arm.
‘I want to go,’ I say. Mum nods and turns to mouth ‘sorry’ to sheep apron lady. I run to the door and pull it open, looking through blurry eyes at the hygiene rating sticker and wondering why it is so hard being me.
BEFORE 4
4
Kaz
‘Proud of yoursen, are you?’ I say to Fag-ash Lil. I have no idea of her real name but that’s what I call her. Comes in here every Saturday and Sunday, always with a mardy look on her face and stinking of smoke. Right rude as well; we never get a thank you out of her.
‘Like I said, he were a spoilt brat.’
My skin prickles. I’ve dealt with enough people like her mouthing off at Terry without knowing what they were talking about. Never once stopped to ask if they could help, even when he was in a bad way.
‘You shouldn’t judge people like that. He might have had summat wrong with him.’
‘Oh, they’ve all got summat wrong with them these days. Learning difficulties, ADHD, allergies. Nowt wrong with any of them that a clip round the earhole wouldn’t put right. Just stupid mums like her who indulge their little brats.’
‘Or maybe bloody ignorant cows like you who make them cry and run out of cafés.’
I know as soon as it comes out that I shouldn’t have said it. I’m glad I did, mind. She deserved every word of it and more.
‘What did you just call me?’ says Fag-ash Lil.
‘A bloody ignorant cow. Now do you want owt or not?’
‘I want to speak to your manager.’
‘Well, you’re out of luck because she doesn’t work weekends.’
‘And is that how you speak to all your customers when she’s not here?’
‘No, only those who make little boys cry.’
A young man comes in and hovers by the counter.
‘Yes, pet, what can I get you?’ I ask. He looks at Fag-ash Lil as if concerned he might be jumping the queue.
‘It’s OK, she’s just leaving,’ I say.
Fag-ash Lil scowls at me.
‘I’ll be contacting your manager,’ she says. ‘Don’t think you’re going to get away with this.’
‘Fine,’ I say, ‘Please don’t make any more customers cry on way out.’
*
I’m still het-up about it all when Danny arrives for his lunchtime shift.
‘What’s up with you? he asks, as I bang a saucepan down on the hob louder than I meant to.
‘Bloody Fag-ash Lil,’ I say. ‘Came in here this morning and had a right go at little lad in front of her. Made him cry, she did.’
‘What for?’ he asks, as he puts his apron on.
‘He wasn’t sure what he wanted. He seemed a bit anxious or summat but Fag-ash Lil called him a spoilt brat. Ran out in tears, he did.’
‘Stupid fucking cow,’ he replies.
‘That’s what I called her.’
‘You didn’t?’
‘No, a bloody ignorant cow is what I actually said.’
Danny grins as he picks
up the frying pan. ‘Jeez, Kaz, I wish I’d come in early now. I bet she kicked-off at that.’
‘Said she were going to complain to my manager and not to think I’d get away with it.’
‘She won’t, will she?’
‘Nah. And even if she does, she were one who upset one of our customers. It’s her in wrong, not me.’
Danny shrugs and makes a face that suggests he’s not so sure about that. I’m not bothered about getting a bollocking from Bridget, though. It was worth it to put Fag-ash Lil in her place. No one should speak to kids like that. I still can’t stop thinking about the little red-haired lad. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, poor sod. I’ve seen it so many times on Terry’s face. When everything gets too much for him and people are staring, and he doesn’t know the right thing to say or do.
And now he’s got to try to cope with people like that again. He won’t be able to, of course. Terry explained that during his assessment. He was right, though. The bloke wasn’t listening. Probably on a bonus for every person he found fit for work.
I bang the coffee filter out into the bin. Danny turns round from the cooker, where he is starting a fry-up, and gives me a look.
‘Don’t let her get to you,’ he says.
‘It’s not just her. Our Terry’s had a letter saying they’re stopping his benefits and he’s got to get a job.’
‘But he can’t, can he? I thought you said he couldn’t cope with working?’
‘Aye. But they don’t want to know. Rather treat him like he’s a scrounger. Some lazy, work-shy fop who can’t get off his arse.’
‘What you gonna do?’
‘I’ve got to take him to job centre on Monday, try to sort it out.’
‘Can I come and watch?’ he says with a smile. ‘It’ll be like Fag-ash Lil round two.’
‘Maybe I should sell tickets,’ I say. ‘Might get more than I do working in this place.’
I turn back to the counter as Joan comes in. Another one of our regulars but one I’m always happy to see. Despite the heat, she’s still got her coat on. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it.
‘Hello, love,’ I say, ‘how you keeping?’
‘Oh, you know,’ she says, ‘mustn’t grumble.’ The creases around her mouth push upwards into a smile. Her cheeks look even hollower than usual. Her lips are cracked and dry.
‘You have a sit-down and I’ll bring you your usual.’
I watch her walk unsteadily to the nearest table and lower herself into the chair. It’s always the same; the ones who don’t grumble are the ones who actually have the most to grumble about. I turn round to Danny.
‘Rustle me up summat quick for Joan, will you? She looks fit to drop.’ Danny glances over and nods. A few minutes later, I take her up a cup of strong tea and a special breakfast.
‘What’s this?’ she asks, looking at the plate. I know she’s worried that she can’t pay for it.
‘Compliments of chef. One we had left over. Lad ordered it earlier on and had to dash off before it were ready. Been keeping it warm for you.’
Joan reaches out and squeezes my hand.
‘Thank you, lovey,’ she says. I wink at her. For every Fag-ash Lil in this world, there’s a Joan. That’s what I have to keep reminding myself.
*
I’m mopping the floor later after Danny’s gone home when I hear the bell go. I turn round to tell whoever has just come in that we’re closed and see Bridget standing there. The look on her face suggests I am in for a bollocking. But what I can’t work out is how she can have found out about what’s happened already.
She takes her mobile out of her handbag, presses a couple of buttons and holds it up towards me.
‘Have you seen this?’ she practically spits at me. Her big, black bob makes it look like there’s a panther curled up on her head scowling at me and about to pounce.
I put the mop down, step forward and squint at the screen. It’s not easy to read the small writing without my reading glasses but I can see the name of the café with a single star under it and the words ‘Rude waitress swore at me’. I didn’t even think about Fag-ash Lil putting it on the internet. That’s how old and out of it I am.
‘I have now. What is it?’
‘A review on TripAdvisor.’
‘Never heard of it.’
Bridget raises one eyebrow at me. ‘Don’t play silly games with me.’
‘I haven’t got internet.’
‘You’ve got a phone, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah, one with buttons that you can call people on.’
She frowns as if she didn’t realise people like me still existed.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter whether you know what it is or not. The fact is, we’ve got a one-star review on TripAdvisor thanks to you and we’ll probably be out of business by the summer.’
‘Don’t be daft. Nobody who comes here is going to take any notice of that rubbish.’
‘Are you denying you called her a bloody ignorant cow?’
‘No. I said it all right. She deserved a lot worse, to be honest. I don’t suppose she mentioned she’d just made a little lad cry and run out.’
Bridget is still frowning at me.
‘No, I thought not. She were right rude to him. Called him a spoilt brat in front of his mum. I told her to apologise but she refused.’
‘Was he playing up or bothering her?’
‘No. Just took his time to order and got a bit anxious. She were one who were rude to him.’
‘I don’t care what she said, you should not have spoken to her like that. You’ve broken my golden rule of being polite to customers and you’re going to pay for it.’
She’s going to dock my wages. I can feel it coming. She pulls herself up to something approaching five foot two.
‘I’m sacking you.’
‘You what?’
‘You heard me. You’re fired, as Mr Sugar would say.’
I stare at her, unable to believe what I’m hearing.
‘That’s ridiculous. You’re overreacting.’
‘I am not,’ she says, jabbing her finger at me. ‘I’ve built up this business from scratch and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and let you ruin it. Get your things and get out.’
I shake my head. Inside, I am trembling, but I don’t want her to see what this is doing to me. I turn my back on her and walk over to the counter, take off my apron and stuff it in my bag. I fiddle around for a moment before I compose myself enough to turn round to face her.
‘When am I going to get paid?’ I ask.
‘You’ll not be getting a penny from me for this week. Do you have any idea how much that review is going to cost my business?’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘I can. And you can think yourself lucky I’m not taking you to court for my lost earnings.’
I pick up my bag, grab hold of the mop and shove it towards her.
‘Well you can stick this where sun don’t shine. And for your information, it’s not a business, it’s a crappy greasy spoon, only you’re so far up your own arse you can’t see it.’
I walk out of the café without looking back and giving her the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurt. Stupid fucking cow. Her and Fag-ash Lil deserve each other. It’s Danny I feel sorry for now, having to work with Bridget until she gets a replacement.
I bite my bottom lip as I think about Joan. Danny won’t be able to smuggle her any free meals with Bridget’s beady eyes on him. I shake my head, still struggling to take in the fact that I am out of a job. I’m going to have to find another one pretty sharpish, too, what with Terry’s benefits being stopped.
Shit. This is a nightmare. I should have kept my big mouth shut. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve talked myself into trouble. But there again, the Fa
g-ash Lils of this world should not be allowed to get away with it. Poor little kid. I wonder what he’s doing now. Whether his mum took him anywhere else or they just went home and got their own breakfast.
I think back over all the times Terry has had meltdowns in public. When people have looked at me as if it is all my fault. Maybe sometimes they thought he was my kid instead of my little brother. They didn’t stop to think, see. They certainly never thought about how tough it must be to care for someone like that. Especially when no one had ever cared for you.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts I almost walk past the end of our road. Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to go home and tell Terry that I’ve lost my job. I stand on the corner for a bit, trying to work out what to say. I don’t want to lie to him, but I don’t want to worry him too much, either. Not with him already in a state about this appointment on Monday.
I knock on the door, then let myself in. I can hear noises but it’s not the TV. They’re coming from the kitchen.
‘Terry, it’s me,’ I call out, before pushing open the kitchen door. He is lying on the floor with my Marigolds on and the rolling pin in one hand.
‘Rats,’ he says, looking up at me. ‘Matthew says they’ve come back. They live behind cooker. I can hear them and I’m waiting for when they come out.’
I nod slowly while counting to ten.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘How about you leave them to me now?’
‘They’re in water pipes too,’ he says, getting up off the floor. ‘I can hear them all over flat. I’ve blocked loo up with paper so they can’t get out.’
‘Right,’ I reply. ‘I know you’ve been trying to help but you need to let me deal with them now, OK?’
He shrugs. ‘Matthew says there will be rats at job centre too.’
‘No, they won’t have rats there. Government wouldn’t allow it.’
‘Government know all about them. Matthew says they sent them there.’
I sigh. This has been brought on just by the prospect of having to sign on. God knows what he’ll be like if they make him go to work. I put my arm round his shoulders.
‘I’ll be going there with you, so you mustn’t worry about it.’