“Well, we don’t need to move it till then, do we? We can serve an entire commuter queue before they get here.”
Before he had time to answer, she walked past him to the café door and opened it.
“We tend to leave this open,” she told him briskly, “so the customers know we’re ready for business.” As she stood there, wondering how on earth this was the same bloke from Sandy’s party, a commuter walked past her into The Café. “See?” she said, giving him a look so sweet it came with fillings.
Dan watched an instant queue file in as if they’d been waiting behind the door all night. Most of them asked Katie the same questions: What was happening to the café now? What the hell had she been drinking last night? Where was Sukie? What were the new owners like? What did she mean crap?
He pretended to busy himself collecting the menus.
“Any time you want to help,” she called out to him, “feel free.”
He didn’t answer.
“Just jump right in,” she called out again.
“I’m waiting for the builders.”
“Ah yes! They’ll be punctual and want to start immediately, I expect.”
She finished the queue and came out from behind the counter. “Right. Let’s move it ready for the next queue.” She looked at her watch. “The 7.44 will start arriving in about ten minutes.”
She looked up at him. His arms were crossed.
“I think,” he said, “we need to have a little chat about our manners.”
“OK,” she said. “You’re a bit brusque, but you are new, so—”
“Yours.”
She blanched. “Let’s sort out the customers first shall we? The later they are, the more they panic.”
No,” he said. “Let’s sort this out first.” He took a deep breath and spoke slowly and quietly. “I do not like being talked to as if I’m an idiot.”
“How would you like to be talked to?”
Dan spoke lightly with a pause in between every word, as if she was a bit dim and he was her remedial teacher. “Like I’m your boss.”
She felt blood rush to her cheeks. “You are kidding, right?” she whispered.
“I am not kidding,” he said. “Because I am your boss.”
She stared at him and he gave her a simple smile. No crinkle this time. “No clever answers to that, are there?” he asked eventually.
“No,” she muttered. “There are a few that would be very satisfying though.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “It just depends how much you still want a job afterward.”
“I’ll let you know at the end of the day.”
“I know the feeling,” he said.
“So do I.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Right.
That was good then.
“Now,” said Dan. “Let’s move this coffee machine to the front of the café.”
As they manoeuvred it, they both became aware of a man standing watching them from the doorway. He wore a T-shirt and jeans and looked about eight months pregnant. When they looked at him, he gave them a brief wink and a knowing grin.
“More exercise than you’ve both had in a while, eh?”
“Ah!” cried Dan. “Harry. Excellent.” He turned to Katie. “The builders. You’ll note they’re punctual and ready to work.” He turned back to Harry. “Let’s get cracking shall we?”
Harry clapped his hands. “Not till I’ve breakfasted, mate. Just came to tell you the lads are down the other caff and will be back here in about half an hour, bright n’ breezy n’ ready to start.”
Dan started saying something, but Harry wasn’t listening. Dan and Katie watched him saunter out, whistling a merry tune.
“You were saying?” grinned Katie.
“I don’t know what you’re so pleased about,” said Dan. “You’re helping me shift it back.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
She stood up and stared at him over the coffee machine.
“What the hell is your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem,” he said.
“Yes you do, and you know it.”
“I’ll remind you—” he started.
“No, I’ll remind you—”
“One cappuccino,” said the first of the commuters for the 7.44. “And a slice of toast. If that’s OK.”
They stared at him.
“One cappuccino—” he repeated.
“Does it look like it’s OK?” asked Dan.
The commuter stared and then looked at Katie. “What the hell’s his problem?”
“I was just finding out,” said Katie. “He’s the new boss.”
“What’s he like?”
“Crap.”
“What do you mean crap?”
“Well, he unplugged the coffee machine.”
“Jesus. What next? Shut up shop while you refurbish it into some posh toff’s place?”
“Oh no!” she said. “Only an idiot would do that.”
“Right!” interrupted Dan. “Let’s get this machine back where it was. Katie?”
Katie turned to the commuter. “Pete, would you? Only, I’m a feminist and I’m making a stand.”
The commuter threw down his briefcase. “Of course, pet. Right. After three, one, two, three…”
By the end of the 7.44 queue, Katie was exhausted. She sat on the counter, letting her legs dangle limply. As she was wondering how to get to an apology from where she’d left off, a man entered the café. He wore overalls and a sorry expression.
“Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”
The man seemed to have trouble registering thought.
“Um,” he started, his lips opening and closing slowly. He licked them thoughtfully.
“Coffee? Tea? A seat?” asked Katie.
“The others,” he said slowly, mostly to himself.
“Pardon?”
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Hmm,” pondered Katie. “I often wonder that. I just thought I was unhappy in my work.”
A large sigh came from Dan. “They’re at the caff.”
The man nodded and turned away.
Katie looked at her watch, kicking her heels against the counter. “Well,” she said. “It’s all going according to plan then, eh?”
Another sigh from Dan. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”
She stopped kicking. “Not really, no.”
“You like taking the piss out of people, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Is that why you walk out on men in restaurants? Did you have a good laugh about that with your mates? I bet you all had a—”
“I was going to phone you, but…”
Dan let her finish, but her voice trailed off into nothingness. She had hoped that she’d just open her mouth and explanations would parachute out, but they seemed to have lost their nerve at the last minute.
“But what?” he asked. “Forgot how to use a phone?”
“No,” she said indignantly. “I saw you out with Geraldine and I went off the idea.”
He looked unimpressed. “What the hell did she have to do with it?”
“Well, you hardly took long to get over it, did you?”
His face registered amazement, and then he started laughing. It was a nice laugh, but that only made her feel worse. “You have got to be kidding,” he said. “You think you’ve got some sort of right to be indignant about me going out with an old friend after you dumped me mid-date!”
“Geraldine did not look like an old friend to me. She looked very much like a date.”
“Well, she was very much like a date actually,” he said, mirroring her tone. “And she still very much is.”
It was Katie’s turn to register amazement. “You’re dating Geraldine again?” she asked, eyes wide.
He started to laugh to himself. “I don’t believe I’m having this conversation,” he told the empty café. “It’s like having a girlfriend
without any of the perks.” He turned to her suddenly. “You walked out on me, no explanation, no phone call, no nothing.” He started counting on his fingers…“I chose the restaurant, I booked ahead, I collected you from your flat, I drove you all the way there, I chose the bloody food,” he stopped. “What did I do wrong? Forget to wipe your—”
“I was going to phone and explain, but then I saw you with her and—”
“Go on then.” He crossed his arms.
“What?”
“Explain. Did you suddenly remember you were married with three kids? Or that you weren’t an educational psychologist but a waitress in a shitty café?”
Katie took an intake of breath. “That was uncalled for,” she choked.
“Uncalled for! I take you on the worst date in history where I have to talk so much I lose my voice—”
“I was nervous!”
“What of?” he shouted. “Dessert?”
“Look. I said I’m sorry.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I did.”
He did an exaggerated double take. “Was I out of the room?” he asked.
“I explained.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I said I was nervous.”
“What of?” he repeated.
She thought about it. He deserved the truth, even if she was beginning to go off him.
“Of you going bald,” she said finally.
“What?” he shouted. “On the date?”
“No, just—”
“Because by the main course, so was I.” She didn’t answer. “Very mature. Very nice. Very attractive.”
The man had a point. Maybe now was the time to apologize.
“Well,” she allowed, “when you put it like that…”
“You are one crazy woman,” he said. “Thank God we didn’t make it to dessert.”
Katie balked. She’d apologized. She’d explained. She did not need to be humble any more.
“Well,” she scoffed, “if it was as bad as the starter, I couldn’t agree more.”
His eyes opened wide. “Oh don’t worry. I’d lost my appetite too. I thought I was on some freak reality show. I kept expecting Linda Bloody Barker to burst out of the toilets with a camera crew and tell me I was on Worst Dates of Our Lives.”
She gasped. “You bastard!”
“You think that was a good date?”
“NO! It was horrible and I wish I’d never met you, you arrogant…excuse…for a turnip—”
“Pardon?”
Katie gasped. She hadn’t meant that.
He burst into sudden laughter.
“I meant…” she stuttered.
He was still laughing.
“I meant…”
He couldn’t stop laughing. Despite her fury she had to try not to laugh herself, which was almost impossible every time she caught the glint in his eye.
“I didn’t mean turnip,” she shouted. “I got confused.”
He really couldn’t stop laughing. She decided now might be a good time to apologize. Now that she felt a bit closer to him again. Which was why she was very surprised when she threw a dishcloth at him. It did the trick though. He stopped laughing and slowly peeled the wet cloth off his face.
“Sorry,” she said sadly.
He turned away so that his back was facing her. She held her breath. Was she going to be sacked? He turned back to her.
“There is every chance,” he said finally, working hard at controlling his face, “that you are the maddest person I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you,” she said genuinely.
He held up his hand. “Don’t speak,” he said. “Please. Don’t speak.”
She decided now was a good chance to attempt an apology. Now that he was weakened.
“I’m not mad actually,” said Katie quickly. “I’m just…quite intense and…”
He held his left side. It looked as if he might be getting a stitch.
“But I did want to apologize,” she rushed.
He nodded, unable to answer.
“I took fright. I accept I have issues where dates are concerned.”
He took a deep breath.
“Something bad happened while you were in the toilet—”
He shut his eyes and a squeaking noise escaped from the back of his throat. She rushed on, “I got a nasty phone call and it made me have a sort of panic attack. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I just…I fled. I didn’t even realize what I’d done until I got home. It’s never happened before and I’m really sorry.”
Dan finally stopped laughing.
“It’s all right,” he managed.
They stood for a while in silence. He wiped his eyes and finally looked at her.
“It was a bloody awful date,” he said.
She achieved a smile. “It was,” she said.
“Let’s just draw a line under it,” he said, “and start again.”
“Line drawn.” She bit her lip.
“And now we’re in a new, entirely different, situation.”
“We are indeed,” she nodded rhythmically.
“We have to work together. For at least three months.”
She made assenting noises. “Well, hopefully more.”
He stopped and gave her a look. “You don’t want to stay, do you?” he asked, not unkindly.
“Of course I do.”
He frowned at her for a while.
“I love my job,” started Katie, “and I’m good at it. I’ve worked here for three years. Anyway, you won’t find another manager with my brain and know-how for this cheap and you know it. The customers love me, the staff respect me and your business partner thinks I’m wonderful. Which I am.”
Dan paused.
“You know I’m right,” said Katie.
“Hmm,” said Dan. “Looks like we’re stuck together.”
Katie looked away quickly, stung by this after she’d thought they’d just made friends.
“Could I have a cappuccino please?”
Katie jumped and stared at a customer.
“What?”
“Cappuccino,” repeated the customer slowly. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course it’s too much trouble,” said Katie. “Do I look like a servant?”
The customer looked at Dan and shook his head.
Katie didn’t see Dan’s reaction, but she thought she could hear laughing as he went to the kitchen.
Jon’s eyes were half-glazed as his fingers tapped on the keyboard, his mind’s eye watching a film inside his head. At the ring of the doorbell, his organs jumped. He stayed sitting perfectly still as the film slowly faded away, the moment over. He could only hope there’d be another showing when he next sat down to work.
He saved his file and closed it before returning to the real world where crockery waited to be washed up and post to be opened. He pulled open the front door.
“Hi there, future famous novelist!” beamed Sukie.
“Hi…”
She brushed past him into the hall.
“It’s a goddam beautiful day out there.”
Jon nodded, following her into the flat.
“Now,” she said, standing proud in the middle of his lounge, “show me how you walk.”
He frowned.
“I use the one-foot-in-front-of-the-other method. It gets me by.”
“Behave.”
Jon turned his back on her and slung his hips low, expanded his chest and shoulders, pulled up his vertebrae and walked—not too fast, not too slow—across the room. Sukie observed him carefully.
“Is this literary agent a woman?”
“No.”
“Shame. Let’s just hope he’s gay.”
Jon let out an abrupt laugh and Sukie flinched. She started looking round the room. “What the hell was that noise? Has a whale just surfaced?”
“No. I-I have a funny laugh.”
“Well for Christ’s sake don’t laugh in the interview then.”
“OK.”
Then she sat on the floor.
“Today we are going to start with the Circle of Attention.”
“The Circle of Attention.”
“Yes,” said Sukie. “Now. Sit down opposite me.”
Jon sat.
“Now. Imagine I’m the agent.”
“Right.”
“Have you done that?”
“Well, I don’t know the guy,” mumbled Jon, “but I doubt he’ll be dressed as Beach Barbie.”
Sukie’s throat blistered.
“Ignore the clothes, Jon,” she shot. “Just pretend they’re not here.”
Jon found this didn’t really help.
While Sukie closed her eyes and took a long, deep, cooling breath, he rubbed his face furiously with his hands.
“Now,” she instructed. “Imagine I’m someone else.”
“Like who?” asked Jon.
“I don’t know, you’re the one with the imagination, Mr. Manly Booker. Anyone. Me, for example.”
“But you are you.”
“No I’m not, I’m the agent.”
Jon frowned.
“Okaaay,” said Sukie, opening her eyes. “It appears I’m going too fast for you.”
So she explained to him how the Circle of Attention works.
“It’s all in the imagination,” she concluded. “Which should be easy for you.”
“Yep.”
“So, tomorrow what you’re going to do is pretend that the agent is not an agent, he’s someone who admires you, someone who thinks you’re fab, who’s interested in what you’ve got to say, someone who is 110 percent on your side.”
“I don’t know anyone like that.”
“Well use your imagination!” she told him.
Jon nodded, concentrating hard.
“Right,” said Sukie. “Imagine I’m the agent. I’m a guy. Imagine I’m tall, with short black hair, glasses, a beard and slight BO. And I’m wearing jeans.”
“What, nothing on top?”
“Jesus, Jon. No wonder this book’s taking you so long.”
Jon took a deep breath. After a while, he muttered, “OK I see him.”
“Now open your eyes. Do you still see him? Jon. Do you see the agent? Jon. What do you see? Jon. Talk to me. First thing that comes into your head.”
Jon’s eyes re-focused.
“Chocolate Digestive and a cup of tea.”
Sukie nodded. “Thought you’d never ask,” she said.
A few minutes later, they were eating biscuits at the kitchen table.
The Waitress Page 15