by Jenny Kane
Kit stood up and stared. ‘You’re Amy?’
‘Yes. You’re the writing lady.’ Amy turned to Peggy, ‘What’s going on? Peggy?’
Kit opened her mouth to explain, but no words came out. All her determination to be in control of her conversational standoff with Jack began to crumble as she stood, staring. There was something badly wrong with Scott. Peg was crying, Phil appeared desperately serious, and now, in the middle of all that, she’d just discovered that Peggy’s new waitress was called Amy. Jack’s Amy. She had to be.
She probably hadn’t been gaping into space for long, but Kit realised she must have gone white because Phil had started fussing around her, and Amy rushed to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water for both her and Peggy. Kit shook herself in disgust. So what if that’s Amy? So what if she was pretty, and helpful, and was now kindly cradling Peggy, easing some water gently between her dry lips? Concentrate. None of that mattered now. None of it. Scott. What about Scott?
‘Phil?’ Kit felt as if her voice was coming from far away, ‘Phil, what did the hospital say?’
Twenty-eight
October 24th 2006
By ten o’clock a taxi had been ordered. Peggy had been eased into her coat, and Amy had pinned a notice up on the door saying that, due to unforeseen circumstances, Pickwicks would only be serving drinks and pastries for the time being. None of them had been sure if that was the right thing to do, but as Phil had said, Peggy couldn’t afford to lose too much custom, especially now. Amy had agreed, convinced Kit that she could manage, and had ushered them out of the café, just as the cab parked up outside.
Kit and Peggy sat together in the back, holding onto each other, for strength as well as for warmth. Phil scrambled into the passenger seat and explained to the obliging driver where they were going, and that a gentle ride would be appreciated.
No one spoke as they wove through the mid-morning traffic, each individual privately wrestling with the fear of what might need to be faced.
It had been a car crash. Scott had been admitted to hospital early yesterday evening. Phil had found the hospital sister surprisingly helpful. They’d sent Mrs McIntyre home, she’d explained, as she was clearly exhausted. Peggy had assured them she had someone to go home to. They would never have let her go otherwise if they’d realised that wasn’t the case. Naturally she was welcome any time.
Mr Scott McIntyre’s car, Phil learned, had been involved in a head-on collision with a van, which had left Scott in a serious condition and the van driver with a multitude of broken bones. Mercifully, neither vehicle had been going fast, or there might have been fatalities.
Scott was in a coma, although the Sister was pleased to say that his hands were already responding slightly to pain applied to the nail beds. This, she assured him, was a hopeful sign, although they were unsure of the ultimate prognosis. The Sister had refused to be drawn about the chances of brain damage, but admitted that they were openly worried about Scott’s spine.
Paralysed. That had to be one of the most frightening words in the human language. Kit swallowed waves of nausea as they swam from her belly up into her throat. Phil had told her to be prepared for the worst, and to be thankful that Scott’s brain hadn’t been starved of oxygen. Otherwise things would have been even worse.
‘How could it be worse?’ Kit asked disbelieving.
‘If he’d been oxygen starved, then right now the doctors would be asking Peggy if she wanted them to turn life-support off.’
‘Oh my God.’ Kit unconsciously flung her hand to her mouth in horror.
‘Exactly.’
Amy sat down on the nearest chair and tried not to let panic engulf her. This fear was ludicrous. Peggy was the one with the crisis not her. Running a café alone was nothing by comparison.
As she still hadn’t sorted the float for the till, and the most popular tea break period for Richmond’s shoppers crept up on her, Amy new, if this was to be done right, then positive action was called for. Speaking to herself firmly, she said, ‘It’s time to use that common sense of yours girl. Time to call in reinforcements and get the beverage machines brewing.’
Making a snap decision, she picked up her mobile and punched in Jack’s number, ‘Jack, its Amy.’
‘Hey Amy, fancy another walk?’
‘Listen Jack, this is an emergency. Do you know Pickwicks in Richmond?’
‘Sure, that’s Peggy’s place.’
‘You know Peggy?’ Amy was momentarily confused, but brushed the feeling aside.
‘Sure. How do you know her?’
‘There’s no time for this conversation now. There’s been an accident and her husband is in hospital. I’m in the café trying to keep things ticking over, but I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing beyond the actual serving. Help! Will you come? Can Rob spare you for a few hours?’
‘I’m already on my way.’
Grabbing his jacket, telling Rob what had happened as he moved, Jack ran from the shop with Rob yelling after him, ‘I’ll come too if it gets rough.’
Jogging along the busy pavement towards the station, Jack’s brain yammered with questions. Pickwicks? Amy was at Pickwicks? Did that mean that she knows Kit? What’s more, did that mean that Kit knew Amy? Christ!
Scott, though. Poor sod. Scott was a decent guy. He was fairly quiet, and Jack hadn’t chatted to him as much as he’d have liked to since he’d finally decided to cross the threshold of Pickwicks. They’d always got on when they had talked, though, especially since they shared a love of music, and Jack knew that Peggy absolutely worshipped Scott.
He began to run faster.
The second he arrived Amy told him all she knew about the accident, and about how she’d offered to keep the café ticking over. Taking stock of the task ahead of them, Jack started by opening up the till with the keys Amy handed him. Arranging the remaining change, and making a note of the float, Jack got the financial side of things sorted with practised speed. There was no doubt they were going to do their best by Peggy. Now was not the time to be asking questions about Kit.
‘You ready?’ Jack asked ten minutes later. Amy nodded, looking far more confident than she felt, ‘Then unbolt that door. Let’s earn Peg and Scott some cash.’
The room was full of horrifying beeping equipment. Kit felt as if she’d strayed onto the set of Casualty or ER. The nurse had said she and Phil could only have five minutes with Scott, although obviously Peggy could stay as long as she liked.
Scott didn’t look like Scott. His shock of tightly-curling black hair was plastered back beneath a stark white bandage, which contrasted alarmingly with his dark skin. Somehow he seemed shorter than before; even though Kit knew for a fact he was over six feet tall. There were wires everywhere. A potassium-sodium mix drip pumped into his right arm to keep him hydrated, and his heartbeat shot lines across a monitor. His neck was in a brace, his body was stiff, and terrifyingly, he was tethered to a board.
‘We don’t want Mr McIntyre moving violently when he comes round,’ the nurse explained gently. ‘It looks awful I know, but it’s for the best.’
Peggy perched on the rigid plastic chair Phil had placed for her next to Scott’s head. Laying a hand on his arm, she looked lost and frightened. Kit realised that she had probably sat in that exact position for most of the night, not knowing what to do, feeling totally helpless. No one knew what to say.
‘Peggy,’ Kit asked, ‘do you want tea or anything?’ Peggy shook her head, leaving Kit wondering why she’d asked if she wanted tea? Peggy always drank coffee. How very English, she thought ruefully, always a cup of tea in a crisis.
Kit and Phil had been sat in the waiting area for hours, surviving on lukewarm coffee from polystyrene cups, and damp, cling film-clad ham sandwiches. Peggy had been told that the consultant would be around to see Scott as soon as possible, but he still wasn’t there. It was nearly half-past two, which meant that one of them would have to fetch the twins from school in an hour.
‘I’ll go if you like,’ Phil
said, ‘if you’ll be OK here. I don’t think we should leave Peggy alone until Scott’s parents arrive.’
‘Nor me. Do you mind going?’
‘Of course not. I hate the circumstances, but it’ll be nice to see the kids a bit more.’
Kit squeezed Phil’s hand, ‘Thanks love. I’ll call you if there’s any news.’
Phil stood looking at his wife for a second, as if undecided about something. ‘Kit?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you want me to call Rob to sit with you, or Jack maybe?’
‘No thanks love. I’ll go in with Peggy. I’m sure that’ll be OK if I don’t get in the way.’
‘OK, take care sweetheart.’ Phil bent down, and kissed his wife.
‘Sure. You too.’
Even though she’d told Phil she’d be fine alone, Kit had to admit to herself, as tears of fear for Scott and Peggy slipped down her cheeks, that she would have loved Jack to be there. One of his massive bear hugs would have been more than welcome right now. But this wasn’t the place for a reunion. Anyway, Kit sighed out loud as she watched the nurses and porters scuttle around the corridors in a permanent hurry, he was probably busy. Again, she started to question if Peggy had known that her new waitress was Jack’s Amy. But then, why would she?
Twenty-nine
October 24th 2006
As the last customers left, asking for their best wishes to be passed on to both Peggy and Scott, Amy felt high on achievement but utterly exhausted. Turning the open sign to closed, she lent her back against the locked door, gazing at the tables waiting to be cleared, and beyond to where Jack was cashing up.
‘We did it.’ Amy’s speech was strangled with emotion.
All day she’d kept going, pushing herself, ignoring the reason why she was there without Peggy. As they’d worked, Jack had moved quietly amongst the tables, apologising to new customers for the diminished service, and assuring them it was merely a temporary state. He’d approached the regulars, as Amy pointed them out to him, tactfully explaining why Peggy was missing. Amy had heard them all talking in hushed tones. That was what it would be like until they came back. She wasn’t ready to think about the possibility that they might not both return. That it could be just her keeping the place ticking over for not days, but weeks or months.
‘You OK?’ Jack raised his eyes from the till.
Amy nodded, but any words she might have uttered stuck in her throat.
‘Come here.’
Amy almost ran across the room, and felt herself fit against Jack’s shoulder as if she’d never been away. Tears of worry and fatigue streaked down her face, and her body heaved.
‘When did you last eat?’ Jack asked.
Amy didn’t even have the energy to shrug. ‘I’m not sure. I think I grabbed a biscuit at lunch.’
‘It’s not surprising you’re shaking. Sit down; I’ll heat up some soup. There must be a bog-standard tin of Heinz around here somewhere.’ Jack sat Amy on the nearest seat and headed into the kitchen.
Served up complete with hot toasted fingers, Amy had never tasted better tomato soup in her life. ‘Thanks Jack. Not just for the soup, but for today, I’m not sure what I’d have done without you.’
‘You’d have coped.’
Amy shook her head sadly, ‘Not me, Jack. I hide. I don’t cope, never have.’
‘Well, you do now. You should be proud of yourself.’ Jack leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ll help again tomorrow. We’ll keep this place going.’
‘Are you sure?’ Amy looked up at him. ‘What about your place, though? Won’t Rob mind?’
‘Of course he won’t. Haven’t you ever listened to “A Little Help From My Friends?”‘
Amy laughed as Jack sang wildly off-key, and hugged him, ‘That has got to be your corniest song link yet!’
Their cuddle was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Kit was there, staring through the glass, watching Jack holding the new waitress, stroking her perfect blonde hair. Amy. The last vestiges of doubt fell away.
Jack let go of his ex and unlocked the door, not sure of what to say. He stood open mouthed, just as Kit did in silent response.
Amy broke the spell. ‘Hi, what news?’
‘Oh, hello Amy.’ Without pausing Kit pressed forward, adopting the no-nonsense tone she used on her children, and marched towards the kitchen, ‘Can I grab a coffee? I’m parched. I’ll tell you everything while I help load the dishwasher.’
‘Help would be great, thanks, I’ll get them.’ Amy would have smiled, but the grave expression on Kit’s face, and her hostile mannerisms stopped her, ‘This is my friend Jack. He’s been great today. Really helped me keep the place going, I’d have been lost without him.’
Kit glared at Jack, ‘Hello.’
He looked back at her, trying to keep his face neutral. ‘Hello Kit. I’ve missed you.’
‘Yeah well, me too.’ Kit gave him a non-committal glance and walked towards the sinks.
‘Do you two know each other then?’ Amy turned from Kit to Jack, the tension between them blatantly clear.
‘Yes. Very well indeed.’ Kit heaved a tray of plates towards the dishwasher’s open door and started loading it up. Instantly regretting being childish in stressing the word very, Kit sighed, ‘I’ll tell you about Scott.’
They formed a tray-and-stack crocodile from the kitchen to the café, working quickly and quietly as Kit made her report.
‘Well, the good news is that he’s out of a coma, and the doctors are as confident as it’s possible for them to be, that he isn’t going to die from his injuries.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ Amy spoke to herself as she poured some leftover lemonade down the sink.
‘There is more uncertain news though.’ Kit frowned at the dishwasher controls, trying to work out how to turn it on, ‘I stayed with Peggy until Scott’s parents arrived, which was at about the same time as the consultant, luckily. Peggy wanted me to stay to hear his prognosis.’
Amy and Jack put down what they were doing, their faces solemn as they concentrated on every word Kit said.
‘In order to establish how far up the spinal cord Scott has sustained damage, and there is some damage, they need to do a CT scan, an MRI scan, and some spinal X-rays.’
‘When?’ Jack asked.
‘About now, I think. As I understand it, the higher up the spine the damage, the more severe the problem; the scans will show how bad things are. Although the consultant did rule out quadriplegia, thank goodness.’
Jack muttered, ‘Bloody hell.’
‘Exactly, but nothing else can be ruled out. He’s strapped to a spinal board. It’s horrible.’ For the first time since her arrival at the café, Kit’s voice wobbled, showing the strain of the last few hours.
‘Will he definitely be paralysed then?’ Amy asked quietly.
‘They won’t say. If it’s muscle damage alone, then no. If it isn’t, we’ll have to see.’
‘How’s Peg coping?’ Jack studied Kit closely.
‘She isn’t. Scott’s parents aren’t too good either, as you’d expect, but at least they have each other. I promised Peggy I’d come and make sure this place was still standing.’ Kit looked around her, trying to keep the unexpected acid of resentment at how well things had been taken care of out of her throat, ‘Obviously it’s in good hands.’
An uncomfortable hour later, Pickwicks was as clean and tidy as possible, and the dishwasher was humming through its last cycle. After some hunting around for the relevant phone numbers, the pastries and refills of juice for the following day were ordered, and a quiet calm descended over the customer free space.
‘It seems strange, doesn’t it, without Peggy.’ Amy wasn’t sure she should be the one to say so. Kit was evidently the ‘official’ friend of Peggy’s present, but someone had to say something; the lack of conversation was getting to her.
‘It does,’ Kit managed a smile, ‘it’s so empty without her. I had no idea how much
her mere presence filled this place.’
Jack turned to Kit, ‘Do we open tomorrow?’
‘We?’
‘Yes. We. Rob doesn’t need me at the shop. The Christmas trade is picking up, but it isn’t a two handed job yet. So, I’ll help.’
‘Are you sure?’ Kit wasn’t. She’d planned to run Pickwicks on her own for a while.
‘Yes,’ Jack was emphatic, ‘we could all do it? Perhaps get sandwiches back on the menu for lunch time?’
‘That would be good,’ Amy added, ‘I could make them while you guys are serving. Loads of people asked for them today.’
Kit considered this briefly, before saying, ‘No. You’re the only one who can operate that bizarre coffee machine, I’ll do the sandwiches, and you do the waitress bit.’ She passed Amy a set of keys, before dismissing her with, ‘Here at nine to do preparations, open at ten. Yes?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Good.’ Kit suddenly registered how hard Amy must have worked to keep the place open all day, and added a belated, ‘Thanks.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, this is for Peggy.’ Amy said as she put on her coat, mentally adding certainly not for you.
As she walked out of the door, waving back at Jack, it struck Amy that Kit was probably the first person she’d ever spoken to who she couldn’t get on with pretty much instantly. She wasn’t even sure she liked her at all. Strange, because Peggy had said she was really nice. Amy began to walk faster, her yearning for a hot bubble bath and a takeaway spurring her towards home.
‘She’s very pretty.’
‘Yes.’
‘And kind.’
‘Yes.’
‘When did she get back in touch?’
‘Last week.’ Jack’s feet fidgeted against the floor.
‘She forgave you?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Go home, Jack. I’m too tired.’
‘Goodnight Kit. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Kit watched as, without looking back, Jack disappeared towards Richmond Station.
‘I’m an ungrateful bitter cow,’ she said to the world in general, privately acknowledging that the nasty taste in her mouth was only partly to do with her fears for Scott.