The Beach Café

by Lucy Diamond

  He nodded. ‘Got it in one.’

  I was still staring. And then laughing. ‘Are you winding me up?’

  ‘No way,’ Amber squealed. She punched the air. ‘Result! Oh, this is too good to be true. Well, there you go, Evie, problem solved. You need a new chef, and Ed here’s out of work – perfect!’

  ‘I never said I—’ he began, but I was already talking over him.

  ‘Oh, Ed, that’s amazing,’ I gushed. ‘Would you really help me out? Carl quit without any notice, and Amber will have to go back to Oxford soon, and I’m advertising for a chef, but nobody’s actually applied yet, and it’ll probably take ages, so . . . Would you?’

  Ed didn’t look quite as thrilled as I was at the turn this conversation had taken, I realized. In fact, he was positively squirming on the picnic bench, as if going back into a kitchen was the very last thing he wanted.

  Unfortunately for him, I was drunk and desperate, and willing to grovel. ‘Please?’ I begged, putting my hands together in a mock prayer. ‘Pretty please?’

  He hesitated. ‘Oh, all right,’ he said. ‘I suppose so. Not stupid hours, because I’ve got the dog to look after, but . . . okay. Just for a few days, until you hire someone full-time. Nothing permanent.’

  ‘Yay!’ I yelled, throwing my arms around him. ‘Ed, you’re a life-saver. Oh, my goodness, this evening suddenly just got SO much better. And I’m totally going to buy you another drink immediately. What are you having?’

  ‘Second thoughts,’ he said, deadpan, pulling a face. ‘And a pint of Stella.’

  I got to my feet with some difficulty (I was more drunk than I’d thought) and saluted him. ‘Coming right up,’ I said, still beaming like a loon. ‘Chef.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ed was certainly taking this seriously, I realized when he came into the café the following morning. We talked pasties, paninis and surfer specials, and he even agreed to try an evening menu one night. By the end of it I was practically fizzing with excitement. It was so useful to talk to somebody who actually knew about the food business, who could guide me through the choppy café waters, even if he was only going to be helping for a week or so. I was grateful for what I could get – so grateful in fact that I must have thanked him approximately nine thousand times while we chatted.

  ‘It’s fine, really,’ he said in the end. ‘To be honest, I’ve been getting a bit bored down here on my own for all this time. It’ll be good to have something to do other than walking the dog and learning to surf.’

  ‘Well, thank you again,’ I said, shaking his hand as he got up to leave. His big, rough chef ’s hand. It was very manly, I found myself thinking, and blushed violently. ‘I’ll order the ingredients you need, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I watched him lope off across the beach with the dog, and let out a girlish giggle, not quite able to believe my lucky break. This was going to be good, I thought. Really good. It was just what the café – and I – needed.

  We had another busy day’s work: it was the bank-holiday weekend, so the beach was packed. With a staff member down, we were working at full stretch, but it was worth it, not having to put up with Saffron’s sulks and strops. But then at the end of his shift Seb said, calm as you like, ‘So I won’t be in for a couple of weeks now, all right? Because I’ve got my exams coming up after half-term, and Mum says I need to revise.’

  ‘Your mum says you . . .’ I echoed, my voice dying out midway through the sentence. ‘Oh. Right. Seb, you could have told me this earlier, given me a bit of notice. I thought you were going to be here all week?’

  He looked faintly surprised at the irritated tone in my voice. ‘Oh, no. Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think—’

  ‘No,’ I said grimly. ‘Never mind. Best of luck in your exams, Seb.’

  I shut the café door after him and let out a groan. ‘One in, one out,’ I muttered. ‘Honestly, Amber, just when I think my luck has turned and I’m getting somewhere with this place, something else goes wrong.’

  She was fiddling with her phone and didn’t look up for a moment. ‘Bollocks,’ she muttered. ‘Look, this isn’t the greatest timing, I know, but Carla’s just texted me.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I wailed. I knew what was coming.

  ‘And she wants me back in the shop for Tuesday,’ she went on. ‘I’m sorry, mate. She can’t get anyone to cover for me, and —’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. I felt like the captain of a sinking ship. Thank God for Ed stepping in, I thought again. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be running a one-woman show – or not, of course. Actually, if it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be running for the hills.

  ‘So I’ll do what I can before I go tomorrow, but . . .’ She was all but wringing her hands, she looked so wretched.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said again, as much to myself as to her. ‘It’ll be all right. I’ll manage.’ I’ll bloody have to, I added under my breath. I’ll manage if it kills me.

  Amber had only been staying a few days, but it gave me a pang the next morning when I saw that she’d packed her toothbrush and shower gel away, in preparation for leaving later on. It had been brilliant, having her around with me, keeping me going with her non-stop sandwich-making, her crap jokes and her so-bad-it’s-good singing.

  ‘I’m going to miss you,’ I said dolefully as we trooped downstairs from the flat. ‘I wish you weren’t going.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘You can do this, Evie. It’s going to be great. You’ve got Ed on board, and he seems to know what he’s doing – plus he’s a bit of eye-candy around the place . . .’

  I gave her a look as I unlocked the inside door to the café. ‘Don’t start that again,’ I warned her. ‘I can see straight through you. Remember what happened last time you butted in, Cupid.’

  We went through to the café and I saw something khaki-green through the glass doors outside. A sleeping bag on the deck. The girl I’d seen there before was back. I’d been in such a whirl lately that she had quite slipped my mind.

  I hurried to unlock the front door. ‘Amber, come here,’ I called in a low voice. ‘There’s a kid asleep on the deck.’

  The girl woke at the clicking of the lock and sat up, eyes wide and scared. And then, before I could push the door right open and stop her, she was up on her feet, out of the sleeping bag and hurrying away with it, like before. ‘Wait,’ I called, rushing out onto the deck. ‘Come back!’

  Amber was there beside me. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘Just some teenager. I’ve seen her here before, but she scarpered last time too.’ I bit my lip, feeling helpless. I hated the thought of her sleeping rough. She was so young and vulnerable to be out on her own at night. ‘Poor kid,’ I said. ‘I wonder where she’s from?’

  We watched her vanish from sight. ‘It’s that seaside-town thing, I guess,’ Amber said. ‘People come here hoping to pick up seasonal work, thinking that because it’s a holiday place they’ll have a nice time . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I hope she’s okay.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out for her,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to scare her away, I was going to see if she wanted some breakfast. God knows what she’s doing for food, if she’s got nowhere to sleep.’

  We both stood there on the deck for a few moments. It was a cool, fresh start to the day, slightly overcast and grey. There wasn’t a soul to be seen.

  ‘I love it that you’re right here, at the edge of the land,’ Amber said dreamily, gazing out at the sea. ‘I can’t imagine living with a view where you could quite easily see nobody for hours on end. It must be amazing living here in the winter.’

  I gulped. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. ‘I don’t know,’ I said doubtfully. ‘It would get pretty lonely, I think, stuck out here on your own.’

  She elbowed me. ‘Come on, cheer up,’ she said. ‘You’ve got all this on your doorstep, you’re living in one of the most desirable and beautiful places in the whole country – things could be a
lot worse, Evie Flynn. At least you don’t have to drag yourself back to Oxford on bank-holiday trains later, like Muggins here.’

  ‘I suppose,’ I replied, realizing with a jolt that I’d barely thought of Oxford since we’d left it behind, three days earlier. I wondered what Matthew had been doing over the weekend. Had he planned something nice with Saul? He’d been talking about us all going for a bike ride together, now that Saul was getting so good without stabilizers. I imagined them setting off, maybe with a picnic, to have an adventure somewhere without me, and my eyes suddenly prickled with tears.

  ‘You okay?’ Amber said, putting a hand on my arm.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It’s just . . . Everything. Every now and then, I get hit by how much my life has changed in the last month. You know, back in April I was happy as anything, making plans with Matthew, and—’

  ‘Well, no,’ Amber cut in. ‘I wouldn’t say you were “happy as anything”.’

  I stopped. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  She shook her head. ‘You didn’t really want to do that teaching course, did you? It was obvious. You hated your temp job, and you and Matthew didn’t seem all that wild about each other, either. Sorry,’ she went on, seeing my jaw drop. ‘Just telling it how I saw it. Whereas I think this place’ – she swept her arm around, encompassing the sea, the beach, the café – ‘is amazing. Mind-blowingly amazing. And I think you’re really lucky, Evie. Really lucky.’ She folded her arms across her chest as if she wasn’t about to brook any arguments. ‘So, are we ready for business then, or what? Our last day together for a while – let’s make it a good one, shall we?’

  I nodded, still processing her words. Lucky, she’d called me. Lucky? I hadn’t felt lucky in all of this. I had felt overwhelmed, anxious and pretty bloody miserable at times. But yes, from an outsider’s view, I supposed I could be described as lucky. The girl who’d slept outside the café probably would have swapped places like a shot. And that thought alone was enough to snap me out of the doldrums. ‘I’m ready,’ I said, wedging the door open and hanging up the ‘Open’ sign. ‘Once more unto the breach, my friend.’

  ‘Unto the beach, you mean,’ she laughed, disappearing inside. ‘I’m going to make up some sandwich fillings for later.’

  I poured us each a coffee while we waited for the first customers, and counted my blessings. Amber was right. I was lucky that this opportunity had sailed right into my life. Now I just had to make sure it didn’t sail right out again.

  We were crazily busy that bank-holiday Monday. This wasn’t helped by three things: one, Amber and I running the show single-handed (or rather double-handed) most of the time; two, the food delivery arriving at twelve-thirty, which was of course our busiest point of the entire day; and three, my bloody sister Ruth rocking up unannounced, at the same time.

  I could have wept when I saw her face there in the queue, about six people from the front (it was a long queue), glancing around the place and clocking everything in a single searching gaze: the crockery piling up on the unwiped tables, where I hadn’t had time to go out and clear them; the mutters and moans from the queue about how long I was taking to serve everyone; and, worst of all, the harassed look on my face that undoubtedly said: I am stressed, I am stressed, I can’t cope. AS USUAL.

  Her face, on the other hand said: Oh dear. Oops. Evie’s cocked up again. AS USUAL.

  Thank heavens for Ed, who chose that moment to walk in. I thought for a moment he was a delusion, a mirage, brought on by my poor brain being flooded by stress chemicals. Then he spoke the magic words: ‘Need a hand?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I croaked, putting lids on the six takeaway teas and coffees I’d just made.

  ‘I’ll clear the tables,’ he said, without even being asked. If he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen to grab a cloth, I think I might have grabbed him and kissed him right on the lips in gratitude.

  It felt rather a blur, trying to take orders, make drinks, count out change and, above all, give off the impression that I was coping, coping, coping, for the benefit of Ruth, gloating there in the queue. It was like a bad dream, knowing that she was present while I was drowning so publicly. I wondered if it had even occurred to her to offer to help. I doubted it. She would be gleefully saving up all the details of my atrocious café management to report back to the rest of the family. ‘Poor Evie. I don’t think she quite knows what she’s let herself in for, I’m afraid . . .’ Ugh. I could hear her faux-sympathetic tone as clearly as if she was speaking the words out loud.

  ‘Can I help you?’ I turned to my next customer, who had approximately five thousand sandy children milling around her.

  ‘We’d like some ice creams, please,’ she said. ‘What flavours do you want, kids?’

  ‘Chocolate . . . no, strawberry. Actually, that green one.’

  ‘I want crisps, not ice cream.’

  ‘I need a wee.’

  My smile was becoming fixed. The queue was becoming longer. And the grumbles were becoming louder too. Then I heard my sister’s clear, ringing, teacher’s voice above everyone else: ‘Evie, we’ll pop back later, when it’s not so hectic,’ she said over the crowd. And then, to the rest of the queue in general, ‘She hasn’t been working here very long. I’m sure you’ll get served eventually, but don’t be too hard on her, will you?’

  My hackles went up so fast I was surprised they didn’t rip right out of my skin. I also seemed to be making a low growling in my throat, like a rabid dog. ‘Patronizing cow,’ I muttered as she left, her kids in tow.

  ‘Right, have we decided on ice creams, then?’ Ed said, appearing beside me as if by magic. He smiled down upon the children waiting at the counter, then up at their mum. ‘Do you know what – my favourite flavour is the toffee crunch. You get real toffee in it, and these yummy, crunchy biscuits. Who wants one of those?’

  ‘ME!’ the kids chorused, even the one who’d been eyeing up the crisps.

  Their mum beamed in relief. ‘Brilliant,’ she said, batting her eyelashes at him. ‘We’ll have five of them then, please.’

  With Ed beside me, we gradually whittled down the queue between us. He was great: always polite and friendly to the customers, but quick and efficient too, handling the food, drinks and money dexterously. It was like having a good fairy alongside me – well, no, not a fairy, exactly, I corrected myself, my eyes drifting to his tanned, muscular arms. A knight in shining armour with a flowery pinny on, who was a dab hand at working a coffee machine.

  Once the queue was under control, he vanished into the kitchen to start making up the pasties, and I was finally able to let my breath out. Phew. That had been full-on, but we had just about managed, selling more sandwiches, drinks and cakes than I’d thought possible. Annie had brought in some new cakes: a ginger loaf and a Victoria sponge, both of which looked amazing. There were also chocolate brownies and rocky-road squares for anyone needing a chocolate fix, and they were all selling well. ‘That was delicious,’ one old lady said, beaming, as I cleared away her empty plate. ‘The lightest sponge I’ve had for a long time. Have you got a new chef here?’

  I smiled. ‘There is a new lady doing our cakes, yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll let her know that you enjoyed it.’

  ‘Please do,’ she said, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses. ‘It really was very good.’

  I felt a spring in my step as I walked away. Customer satisfaction rocked!

  Amber came out from the kitchen and handed me a coffee. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I’m on the front line with you now. Old Gorgon Ramsay in there has kicked me out.’

  ‘Oi, I heard that,’ Ed shouted, with a laugh in his voice.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind about you,’ she called back, rolling her eyes. ‘Dead bossy,’ she added in a stage whisper.

  I smiled. ‘Takes one to know one,’ I reminded her, and then, to the woman who’d just appeared at the counter, ‘Hi, can I help you?’

  She was tall and built like a swimmer, with broad shoulders and a body that tapered at
the waist. She had long brown hair, bright-blue eyes and a voice that was pure Aussie, with every sentence ending in a question. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for a job, actually? I don’t suppose this place is taking on any waitresses?’

  My mouth opened in a dazed smile and I couldn’t speak for a moment. ‘Yes,’ Amber said on my behalf. ‘Yes, we are. Or rather, she is, cos I’m buggering off today.’

  I managed to close my mouth and end my village-idiot impression. ‘Have you got waitress experience?’ I asked, trying to sound efficient and managerial. I thought back to all those times in my life I’d traipsed around cafés and restaurants asking for work, and hardly ever getting any. I’d had so many brush-offs, so many rejections, and it had been, on the whole, utterly demoralizing. From the way this woman’s eyes lit up, I got the impression she’d been there, done that herself.

  ‘Sure,’ she said at once. ‘I’ve had plenty, back home in Melbourne? And I’ve been working in a restaurant in the West End for the last six months?’ She fumbled in a voluminous blue leather bag that was slung over one shoulder and pulled out some stapled pieces of paper. ‘Here, I’ve got a résumé, references, the lot,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the papers from her. Amber craned nosily over my shoulder to see too. I’d got as far as reading her name – Rachel – when a couple of families came through the door and walked up to the counter. ‘Listen, Rachel, I’ll look through this later and give you a bell. All right?’

  ‘Cool,’ she said. ‘That would be awesome. I’ll do anything – any hours, washing up, cleaning . . . ?’ She grinned, a wide toothy grin, with dimples like brackets on either side. ‘I’m a hard worker, and reliable too. Speak to you later?’

  ‘Great, cheers,’ I said, smiling. I liked her. I knew you had to go on more than just a gut feeling about a person when you were hiring them, but there was something very warm and likeable about her. I couldn’t imagine her snarling at the customers or pilfering the stock like Saffron had. ‘Speak to you later.’