Only two customers remained, sitting opposite each other at a table near the door. The girls had been gossiping for ages, their knickerbocker glories having been consumed at least an hour ago. But now, as the conversation finally died, one of them looked at her wristwatch and then at the clock on the wall at the back of the café, opening her eyes wide in disbelief at the time. It was nearly six o’clock. Rhys was sweeping under some tables but caught her eye and, leaning his broom against a chair and wiping his hands in his apron, went over to the counter to fetch their bill. Finding it and placing it on a stainless-steel salver, he took it over to them.
The girls were attractive and wearing skirts so short that Rhys wondered whether his stare at their bronzed legs was all too obvious. If it was, they appeared not to be put out by it as they smiled at him warmly. The second he placed their bill on the table, one of the girls put a pound note on top and Rhys took it away to the till. He pondered whether these would be the last customers he would ever serve in the Supreme. He sought the correct keys, pressed down on them hard and, with a loud ring, sixty-four pence showed in the display. He tucked the pound note away and counted out the change before returning to their table. The girls were already standing and, leaving ten pence on the salver, exited the café. Shutting the door behind them, Rhys locked it and turned the open sign to closed. He stood rooted to the ground for a second and lowered his head, his heart rate quickening. This was it; the end. Turning back round, he returned to their table, pocketed the ten pence and, picking up the tall ice cream glasses, took them into the kitchen.
‘Last ones, Eleni.’
‘Thank God for that,’ she replied with some relief as she considered her red and wrinkled hands.
Christos did not say a word as he wiped down the cooker. Rhys took this as a bad sign and returned to the dining area. He ran a cloth across the table the girls had been sitting at, placed the chairs neatly underneath and resumed his sweeping. Another ten minutes and he would be finished for the day. Judging by what he had observed in the kitchen, so would Christos and Eleni. Rhys desperately hoped it would be just for the day and not forever.
As he moved some chairs away to gain easier access beneath the tables for his broom, a knot formed in his stomach. He was at a loss to understand why Christos would want to let him go for he was now convinced that this was the reason why he had been asked to stay behind after work. He had been a good, reliable hard worker, and versatile as well. He served, he cleaned, he swept, he cooked, he fetched and he delivered. There was nothing he had not been prepared to do and both Christos and Eleni had complimented him many times on his work. He wondered if it had anything to do with his more recent appearance for he knew he had become increasingly bleary-eyed and dishevelled. The drink was also taking its toll on his energy levels and, by mid-afternoon, he had regularly begun to feel more tired. He did not think that this had affected his performance adversely but perhaps Christos thought otherwise. The knot in his stomach tightened further at the knowledge that it would soon be all over and so tense and upset did he feel about it that he fought hard to stop the tears welling up in his eyes. Failing to do so, he wiped them away with the cuff of his shirt.
Without warning, Christos and Eleni suddenly appeared together in the dining area. Rhys carried on sweeping, pretending not to notice. Eleni went to sit by herself at a table. Christos went over to the till and, after pressing down on some keys, took note of the day’s takings. He stuffed some notes into his back pocket and the remainder into a hessian bag which he would count up properly later before depositing it in the bank the next day. Placing the sweeping brush down, Rhys picked up a hand brush and swept the detritus into a pan. He tried to look upon things more positively and, if Christos did want to be critical of him, he would promise to improve his performance and plead for another chance … beg even.
‘Doesn’t matter if you haven’t finished yet, Rhys. Come and sit down with us,’ Christos finally commanded as he walked over to join his wife.
‘Just a tick, Christos. Let me deposit this in the bin,’ Rhys replied tentatively, his purpose to show his diligence, but, in truth, more to extend his stay of execution another few seconds. But once he had done this, Rhys found no further excuse not to join them, and so, after wiping his hands on a cloth, he sat himself down at their table, his eyes unable to meet theirs directly.
‘Right. Thanks for staying on, Rhys,’ Christos finally began. ‘Eleni and I have been thinking a lot these past few months about this business and what we want to do with it.’ Rhys averted their looks, his hands clenched together underneath the table to stop them from shaking. ‘The reason for this is because we’ve been considering our own future.’
Rhys looked up and could only mutter, ‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. In our heart of hearts, we want to go back to Cyprus, back to Paphos, where our families are. After talking it through, we’ve decided to go back home.’
Rhys’s eyes darted between Christos and Eleni, who were both smiling, before settling on Christos, nonplussed as to what this would mean for him. ‘I know how much Cyprus means to you and how much you love it there so I’m very pleased for you both.’
‘Thanks, Rhys. Obviously, that means we’re going to have to sell the business, as this is the money we’re relying on when we’re there.’
Rhys looked down once more. Christos was getting to the crux of the matter. He’s clearly got someone in mind and they don’t have any need for me, Rhys thought despondently. ‘I fully understand.’
‘Eleni and I love this business, Rhys. It’s been our lives for over twenty years,’ Christos resumed, holding his wife’s hand, and we think you’ve contributed a lot to its success lately. You know it well and your work is excellent. We would love this business to be in the hands of someone we know and appreciate and that’s why, if you’re interested, we’d like to sell it to you.’
Rhys did not react. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. After a few seconds of silence, all he could muster was, ‘Sorry, but could you say that again?’
‘Sure. We would like to sell you the business. In fact, what we have to sell is the freehold of this building which includes our flat above.’
Rhys was dumbfounded and his only reaction was to stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed firstly at Christos, then at Eleni, and then finally back at Christos. As neither of them spoke, Rhys thought he had better say something. ‘Just so I get this right. You want to sell me your business and your flat?’
‘Yep, that’s right, obviously only if you’re interested?’ Christos replied matter-of-factly.
Another tangible pause followed before Rhys answered uncertainly, ‘Well, yeah, I suppose I am, but how much are you looking for?’
Without hesitation and with a cheeky smile, Christos advised, ‘Twenty-five thousand.’ He waited a split second, having observed Rhys’s startled look, before adding, ‘It’s a fair price.’
‘Twenty-five thousand! I don’t even have twenty-five pounds to my name.’ Rhys hesitated, leaning back in his chair, before continuing calmly. ‘Thanks for thinking of me, Christos, but I’ll never have that sort of money.’ Rhys lowered his gaze, his face a picture of resignation, knowing that such business matters were way out of his league. But when he looked back up, he saw that Christos and Eleni were smiling, as if they knew something he didn’t. He was intrigued, but all he could say was, ‘What?’
‘Leaving aside the money for a moment, could you imagine yourself running this place in the future and living in the flat above? I’m only asking this because we don’t want to push you into something you don’t want to do.’
Rhys thought for a second, wondering how it was possible to leave aside the matter of the money, and then replied, his eyes flicking from one to the other, ‘Christos, Eleni, it would be a dream come true to own the Supreme. And as for your flat, well, it’s absolutely beautiful. I could never hope to live in such a place. But, you know, the money? It’s …’
Before he could carry on, C
hristos cut in. ‘Rhys, we thought you might be interested but we needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth first as they say. The reason why, and I hope you don’t think we’ve taken any liberties, is that we’ve discussed the matter with Mr Partridge and floated the possibility that you might be a keen buyer.’
‘Mr Partridge, the manager of Midland Bank down the road?’ Rhys enquired, his ears pricked like a dog hearing a whistle, though he knew the answer.
‘Yeah.’
‘I like him. He’s a real gentleman whenever I serve him. Never any bother, he is.’
‘Well, he likes you, too, Rhys. He’s been our bank manager and coming here for years and told me you were the best member of staff we’d ever had. He can see that you’re committed and want to do well.’
Rhys looked down and blushed. ‘I try my best.’ He said this in such a heartfelt way that Eleni stretched out her hand and stroked his forearm lightly.
‘We asked him whether the bank might be willing to lend you the money to buy the place. I apologise again if you think we might have taken liberties?’
‘Not at all, Christos.’
‘That’s good, because, in principle, Mr Partridge said the bank would.’
‘They would!’ Rhys was so shocked he almost fell off his chair.
‘Yeah. He’d like to meet you properly, of course, but he said the bank would lend ninety per cent of the value, that is, twenty-two thousand five hundred pounds which they would secure against the freehold of the property.’
Rhys looked blankly at Christos and then at Eleni. All he had understood of Christos’s last statement was that he would be two thousand five hundred pounds short. He had no idea what securing against the freehold of the property meant. Christos and Eleni picked up on his uncertainty and it was the latter who answered his doubts. This came as no surprise to Rhys as he knew Eleni to be a sharp businesswoman.
‘What we would do, Rhys, is keep a ten per cent stake in the business. In other words, you’d have to hand over the twenty-two thousand five hundred now for ninety per cent. All we would ask you to do is pay the two thousand five hundred you owe us as soon as you can and, when Christos shows you the books in a minute, you’ll see that won’t take very long. You’ll own the place outright then.’ On cue, Christos left the table to fetch the accounts. ‘Securing against the freehold means that if for some reason down the road you don’t keep up with your payments, the bank can repossess the property.’
‘The property is collateral then?’ Rhys asked a little unsurely. He had heard the word used in a number of films he had seen.
‘Collateral? That’s right, you’ve got it,’ Eleni replied with a watermelon-slice of a smile as Christos returned with a blue and white hardback accounts book.
‘I’ll have to pay interest, though, won’t I?’ Rhys asked a little worriedly.
‘Yeah, you can’t avoid that. That’s how the bank makes its money. It’ll be about five per cent above the Minimum Lending Rate,’ Eleni replied.
‘Sorry. I don’t understand any of that.’
‘The Minimum Lending Rate is set by the Bank of England. It’s eleven and a half per cent today but it can vary. The Midland will charge you about five per cent on top, sixteen and a half per cent in total.’
‘That sounds a lot to me.’
‘Yeah, but Rhys, inflation is seventeen per cent today,’ Christos interjected, ‘so, in reality, you’re not paying anything.’
Rhys did not understand this last point in the slightest but said nothing. He trusted Christos and Eleni to know what they were talking about.
‘Pull your chair round here, Rhys,’ Christos requested so that he would be sitting next to him. ‘I want to show you the accounts. Other than me, only Eleni, Mr Partridge and our accountant have seen these.’ Looking directly and seriously into Rhys’s eyes, he added, ‘Should you decide not to go ahead with the purchase, I would ask you never to reveal this information to anyone. I’m trusting you, Rhys.’
‘You can trust me, Christos,’ Rhys replied, proud to have been taken into his confidence.
‘This is 1973, ‘74, ‘75 and year-to-date, ‘76. See the top lines? That’s our income, our turnover. You can see how it’s grown and, although we’re only in August, we’ve nearly taken as much this year as last.’
Rhys fixed his eyes on the accounts as hard as a cat might on a bird in a garden. The numbers were healthy and showing an upward trajectory. It shocked him to know how much the business was taking. ‘Phew, that’s pretty impressive, Christos.’
‘All these numbers here are our outgoings; you know, payments to suppliers, gas, electricity, wages, etcetera. It includes the money Eleni and I take for ourselves,’ Christos went on, running his finger across the page. ‘Now look at the most important line of all, Rhys, profit. This line here,’ Christos pointed out. ‘As you can see, the figures are pretty good and growing, even when you take into account the tax we pay, the numbers underneath. In fact, if you study them carefully, there’s enough profit in this business to pay Eleni and me the two and a half thousand and the bank its loan comfortably. If things continue as they are, and there’s no reason why they shouldn’t, you can be debt free in a handful of years even allowing for some investment in the business.’
Rhys’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Despite failing his maths CSE at school, even he could see that Christos was correct. ‘You’ve done so well, Christos, Eleni. You should be proud of yourselves.’
Eleni and Christos broke out into smiles so radiant they would have lit up Piccadilly Circus. This was just another example of Rhys’s charm and generosity of spirit that so endeared him to them and, most importantly, to their customers.
‘And one last thing to consider, Rhys,’ Eleni broke in. ‘Inflation is very high at the moment and property prices are forecast to go through the roof, particularly here in London. This building will be worth a lot more in the next few years, I’m sure of it, while your loan won’t increase at all. What do they say? “Inflation is great for borrowers”.’
Once again, Rhys did not fully understand this but it sounded good whatever. His eyes were still fixed rigidly on the profit figures as if they were nude photographs of Olivia Newton-John mud-wrestling with Britt Ekland.
‘These are the figures, Rhys, but, at the end of the day, you work here, and I think you can see how busy the place gets on a consistent basis. If managed well, there’s no reason why that shouldn’t continue.’
Rhys finally took his eyes off the naked wrestlers and looked at Christos, finding it difficult to disagree with his last statement. ‘There’s no doubt about that. It’s always busy here.’
‘Well, Rhys, I know this must have come as a bit of a surprise, a pleasant one, I hope, and that you’ll need time to think about it. Go away and do that. If you’ve got any questions, let us know. Mr Partridge will see us any time to get the finance sorted. Ideally, Eleni and I would like to be back in Cyprus by the end of the year. I’m not sure we could stand another English winter, though the way the weather is at the moment I wouldn’t mind a bit of cold. We don’t want to put too much pressure on you but we would appreciate an answer within a week or two ’cos, if you’re not interested, we’d have to put it on the market.’
Rhys looked intently at them both and acknowledged how interesting their proposal was. ‘There’s a lot to think about, that’s for certain, but I’m definitely keen. I won’t keep you waiting, I promise.’ After a short pause, he added in a soft voice, ‘Thanks for thinking of me. I’ll never forget it.’ Christos and Eleni smiled once more, the latter’s heart almost melting at Rhys’s kind words.
The meeting seemed at an end and Rhys stood up from his chair, his head awash with numbers and ideas. He was on the point of leaving when Christos asked him to sit down for just one more minute as he had something else to say. Rhys obliged, a little puzzled, particularly as Christos’s expression was quite serious.
‘Rhys, I know it’s none of our business,’ Christos began,
his voice trembling slightly, ‘but it hasn’t escaped our attention how much you’ve been hurting from pretty much the first day you joined us. I remember you telling us about your ex-girlfriend and we suspect this is the reason why.’ Rhys lowered his eyes as Vicki’s image flashed through his head. ‘She obviously means a lot to you, but, and I’m speaking to you as a friend now, there comes a time when you’ve got to let her go and move on. She’s married to Tommy Slater and there can be no future for you together. I don’t want to be brutal but sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. If you don’t move on, she’ll drive you mad. It’s not easy, I know, but it’s for the better.’
Rhys continued to stare down at the table, not reacting in the slightest to the words he knew to be right. Having spoken harshly but truthfully from the heart, Christos lightened the mood, his tone more jocular. ‘Think of all those lovely shop assistants in Arding & Hobbs who come in here. They can hardly take their eyes off you. If I were your age again, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from flirting and seeing what I could get.’
Eleni turned her head round sharply to face her husband and looked playful daggers at him. Christos grinned and stroked her hand, winking. Rhys smiled and thought the only person who could possibly be more in love with someone than he was with Vicki was Christos with Eleni. Their relationship was everything he had wanted his to be with Vicki. But Christos turned serious once more. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Rhys, and remember I’m only saying it for your own good, but it hasn’t escaped our notice that your appearance has gone down a lot these past few months. Your work is still excellent, don’t get me wrong, but you look rougher and your breath often stinks of booze.’ Rhys looked back down at the table top and his cheeks rouged with embarrassment. ‘What we were talking about earlier is a great opportunity for you, Rhys; your own business; your own flat; a real future. But you’ve got to be professional. You’re in charge, remember. You’ve got to look the part and be on top of things all the time. Drink is a mug’s game. If you don’t control it, it’ll control you, and as night follows day, things will slip and customers will go elsewhere. Don’t ever give them the reasons to do so.’
Decade Page 19