Patsy appeared. “They didn’t fit the lock.”
“Top lock?” checked Katie.
“I thought you said bottom lock.”
“No. I said top lock.”
Patsy looked at Katie and Katie looked back at her. Eventually, Patsy turned and went back down again.
“So,” said Nik, “you snogged the boss, eh?”
Ah, so he had noticed.
“Yes, but that was before he was in the business.”
“Is that what got you the job?” asked Nik.
Katie let out a splutter of shock.
“Hardly!” she said. “We had a disastrous date and weren’t even talking when he bought this place. If he’d known it was me, he’d never have hired me.”
Patsy appeared. “Top lock doesn’t work.”
“You have got the right door, haven’t you?” checked Katie.
“Yes, the black one.”
“The blue one.”
“You said the black one.”
“I said the blue one.”
Patsy tutted and went back down.
“I got the job because I’m good at it,” Katie turned back to Nik, “and have years of experience. Like you.”
“That right?” asked Nik.
“Yes.”
Patsy appeared. “Top lock, blue door. This key does not work.” She held it up to illustrate her point.
“That’s because,” said Katie approaching, “it’s the wrong key. I told you it was the Yale one.”
“I thought you said yellow one.”
“Yale one.” Katie smiled. “Try again.”
Patsy went back down.
“And just like you,” she turned back to Nik, “I want this place to be as good as it can be. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Patsy came back carrying a bag of vegetables and plonked it on the counter. Sukie and Katie clapped.
“There,” she said huffily. “Courgettes.”
“And peppers.”
Patsy almost started to cry. “He said courgettes!”
“And peppers!” said Katie. “Courgettes and peppers!”
Patsy sighed wearily and pouted her lips.
“Wouldn’t it just be better if you went?” she asked.
“Not for me, no,” smiled Katie.
Patsy stared at the floor for a while. When Katie and Sukie turned back to Nik, she wandered back down to the store cupboard.
“Don’t forget the bag!” called out Sukie. Patsy clomped back into the kitchen, picked up the bag and clomped out again, muttering something about taking the piss.
“There’s no need to take it out on the girl,” Nik told Katie, after Patsy had gone.
“I do not have anything to take out on anyone,” said Katie.
Patsy appeared. “There are your frigging peppers,” she said tearfully, throwing them on the counter. “I’m having a break.”
By the end of their shift, Katie and Sukie were exhausted. When they had first seen Patsy they’d resented her because they didn’t need any extra help. Now they resented her because, thanks to her, they needed all the help they could get. Their job had become the stuff of nightmares. Patsy had to sit down every half hour due to her aching feet and she made more mess than the customers. She burned the toast, took so long to make a cup of tea that customers waiting to be served left quietly, and she followed Katie and Sukie round like a kid sister on a shopping trip. The men didn’t seem to notice any of this, which made Katie and Sukie feel like her two ugly sisters. It took them till noon to realize it was a waste of time to moan about Patsy’s global incompetence to anyone with testosterone. Thank God they had each other.
The next day was the Grand Opening which meant a free glass of wine with every order, delicious canapés, new outfits for the staff (neat little skirts and tops in black, turquoise, purple, fuchsia or yellow with little white starched aprons), visits from local press and MP, Geraldine taking a day as holiday to be in the photographs, and David Gray on a loop, which, by the end of the day, was exactly where the staff wanted to hang him. Dan wore a beautiful linen cream suit with tan shoes, a tan tie and a green face. Paul had been unable to make it as something bad had happened in the office—“A footsie player has collapsed which has upset a market in the city,” Patsy had explained—and from then on Dan’s cool had vanished. He seemed unable to process the most simple of thoughts and incapable of hiding the most base of them. He rushed around making sure everyone was happy out front chatting to customers, laughing with the MP and smiling for the photographer. Then he rushed into the kitchen, shut the door and leaned against a counter, massaging his temples. Katie handed him a glass of water and some headache pills. She didn’t even look at him, but just said, “Take them,” and went back. She had no idea if he did or not. When he came out front, she saw Geraldine approach him and felt wrong-footed. Had she acted like a girlfriend in helping him before he’d asked for it? She watched Geraldine take out a tissue from her bag and, with her back to everyone, so shielding Dan, wipe his brow and upper lip. Yes, thought Katie, she had. She kept watching and saw that as the couple turned back round to the public, Geraldine’s face was locked in grim disapproval and Dan’s brow, neatly wiped, was now creased in—what was it? Katie’s heart clutched. It was shame. She saw Geraldine say something to him under her breath, hand him the tissue and then turn sharply away from him toward her public. Katie looked away quickly, knowing the expression on her face would give her away.
When the local press turned up, Dan was charm personified. Katie watched as he worked the reporter and buzzed around confidently and expertly. In seeing him with Geraldine, she felt as if she’d glimpsed a secret she shouldn’t have and she watched his public persona guiltily. She suddenly felt exhausted—maybe her adrenaline had stopped pumping—and went into the kitchen to see if Nik needed any help. He was busy creating another tray of canapés, while two more trays cooked in the oven. Suddenly Dan burst in.
“Chips!” he shouted.
Nik and Katie jumped round and stared at him.
“CHIPS!” he repeated louder, sensing that the message had not hit home.
“WHERE?” shouted Katie.
Dan tutted angrily. “The Gazette guy wants chips!” he clarified. “Five stars if we give him chips.”
“I’m not gonna be bribed—” spluttered Nik.
“Thick and gooey!” shouted Dan wildly. “Like his dead mum used to make! She died when he was ten!”
Nik and Katie stared at Dan and he stared back at them.
“Right,” said Katie. “We need oil. It’s in the store cupboard. Come on Dan, it takes two to carry it.”
She picked up the keys and led him downstairs. The store cupboard was a long, dark, cold and very narrow room with shelves on either side stacked with raw vegetables, layers of raw eggs and enormous tins of tomatoes and tuna. In the far left corner was a fridge and freezer, leaving just enough room for one person to open it, and on the right, almost halfway in, a vast can of frying oil. The light-bulb needed changing, so Katie had to keep the heavy door open with one foot while they tried to look in the dark without treading on each other. Dan was in front of her, and stretching her body in front of him, she pointed the oil out to him. Unused to the room, he couldn’t see it. She took a step forward, squeezing in between him and a large sack of potatoes to point it out more clearly. She almost stumbled and he had to hold her so she didn’t fall back on top of the potatoes. As soon as she realized she’d made the mistake, she gasped in shock and horror. Dan turned to her and was about to ask her what was wrong when the heavy door behind them swung violently shut, leaving them in pitch-black darkness. She let out a cry of fear and instinctively clasped Dan by the arms. The last thing she saw before there was complete darkness was him being pulled toward her, looking concerned.
She froze. There was silence. Pure and utter silence. She felt wretched at what she’d just done, but more than that, she felt terrified of the darkness, which seemed to thicken with every second. She co
uld hear Dan’s breath quicken. Was he angry with her? Would the darkness fade? Would it help if she shut her eyes? She tried. When she opened them again, a dart of panic shot through her body at the complete darkness.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, gripping Dan closer. “I forgot—”
“It’s OK,” he whispered back, soft as a caress. She closed her eyes again and muffled herself into his body. That way she could pretend the darkness was him.
“It-it,” she whispered. “It really is dark, isn’t it?” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a whimper.
“Did you bring the key with you?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she managed, her voice beginning to rise and tremble.
“Good,” he soothed.
“I’m a bit scared of the dark,” she confessed.
To her surprise, he then gave her a full-body hug and told her in a warm voice that everything would be all right. She became instantly exhausted and gave in, relaxing her body and allowing herself to be held up by him. She pressed her face against his chest so he didn’t hear any stray whimpers.
“Right,” he whispered. “Where’s the key?”
“It’s in the door.” Her voice was high.
“Good.”
There was a pause. “The other side of the door.”
There was silence again. Neither of them moved.
Then suddenly Dan let go of her.
“Oh my God,” he said. “The chips.”
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, eyes still firmly shut, hands grappling in the dark for a shelf to hold on to. “The chips will get made. Don’t panic.”
“OK,” he said. “OK. I won’t panic about the chips if you don’t panic about the dark.”
“Oh God,” she wobbled. He hugged her to him again.
“Right,” said Dan. “Where were we? Now. We’re two intelligent people. How do we get out of here?”
“Um,” murmured Katie, focusing all her attention on not thinking of the dark. “Um. I-I can’t really think at the moment.”
“No, me neither.” She could hear his smile. “Let’s just stay in here forever.” Katie forgot about the dark as a firework went off in her body.
There was a long pause while she wondered what on earth to say. She heard Dan give a long, melancholic sigh. “That way,” he said sadly, “I’ve got the perfect excuse when the café doesn’t work.”
“Don’t say that,” she said, squeezing his body tighter, keeping her eyes shut. “It’s going to be a massive hit. And more than that, it’s going to be fun making it a hit.”
“You think?” He sounded suddenly vulnerable.
“I’ll eat my hat if I’m wrong,” she told him.
“Thanks,” he said. “That means a lot.”
“It’s made of chocolate,” she whispered. “With toffee swirls on top.”
He laughed a deep throaty laugh which travelled all along her collar bone to her shoulder and down her spine. It lingered around her pelvis and then drifted downward to her thighs. If there hadn’t been a sack of potatoes at her feet, she’d have been on the floor by now. His laugh died a slow death and was followed by a silence that was even longer than all the other silences. It just kept on going.
It was the kind of silence that made a girl examine a situation and ask herself some rather stern questions. Such as, where exactly were all the components of her boss’s body, for example? Which begged the next question; where exactly were all the components of her body? This automatically led on to another tough question to answer: how would her boss’s girlfriend—and her friend, for they were one and the same—feel were she to come in and see this, minutes before a perfectly reasonable explanation were given? (Not that she could, of course, because the door had very firmly slammed shut.)
But it was a question that should be answered. She could feel both Dan’s arms firmly round her body and the palms of both hands stretched round her frame. No, no, that would not do at all. It would look highly inappropriate. Not only that, but the length of one of his thighs was nudging the outside of one of hers while the other acted like a tripod between her legs. Nope. When all was said and done, this would probably look very suspect. Thank goodness the door had slammed shut. (But there was a key on the other side, which meant it could open any second.)
She jumped away suddenly. “And,” she added with forced jollity, “of course, now that we’ve got Patsy, there’s no stopping us.”
She opened her eyes. Yes, the darkness was fading. And the room seemed bigger than she remembered.
There was a little pause and then Dan laughed some more, stepping away from her too.
“I’m joking of course,” she said kindly. “About the hat.”
“Of course,” he said.
“I have every faith in you.”
He didn’t answer.
“So,” she ventured, suddenly desperate for something to say. “I take it this was the new business you worked so hard in the city to be able to buy?”
She cringed in the dark. This was the first admission that they’d confided in each other before and, if she remembered rightly, just before a rather intense kiss.
“Yeah. That’s right.”
He obviously didn’t want to go there. Fine. Stay with the hat jokes. Then he surprised her by saying, “I thought you were an educational psychologist.”
“A what?”
“You said you were an educational psychologist.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah.”
She laughed. “Oh no! I thought I wanted to be one then. I tend to get carried away when I think I’ve found the dream job.”
“Ah.”
“I can’t decide what I want to be.”
“Ah.”
“So I’m just waiting tables till I decide.”
“Ah.”
“Oh God! You must have thought I’d lied.”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
“No. That weekend I really thought I was going to be an educational psychologist.”
“I see.”
There was a pause. She suddenly felt ashamed of her job, as if she was reading his mind.
“Why are you—” he began.
“I don’t want to make a mistake,” she blurted.
“Pardon?”
She gave a big sigh. “I’ve got friends who work ridiculous hours in their chosen profession photocopying or making the tea,” she heard herself garble, “and it’s like watching the life blood drain out of them. They absolutely hate it, but already, in their early twenties, they can’t get out of it because they’re too busy or tired to look for a new job and it would make them look fickle if they changed their minds. I’ve watched them get worn down by it all and I just don’t want to get into that. This way I get to do easy hours while working out what I want to do. Well, they used to be easy hours. But I don’t mind now because I’m getting experience, because I always wanted to be a restaurateur—”
She was interrupted by the sounds of a submarine going off.
“Oh we’re saved!” Dan cried. “My mobile!”
She made happy sounds and heard a lot of sudden movement followed by the sound of a mobile phone crashing to the concrete floor.
“Damn!” cried Dan. “I’ve missed the call.”
“It’s OK,” said Katie. “You can make a call out.”
“I would,” said Dan. “Except now I can’t find it.”
Katie gasped. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She squeezed past him and opened the fridge and freezer to give them a bit of light. After a few minutes he found the phone in-between the carrots and potatoes. Dan phoned the café. No answer. He turned to Katie, as they stood in the fridge light.
“No bloody answer.”
“Well they’re busy. It’s a big day.”
He shook his head. “Bloody hell,” he muttered at the phone. “Answer!”
He smiled sheepishly at Katie and she smiled back.
“Ah! At last. Pa
tsy! It’s Dan. I’m in the store cupboard. Can you come and get us?…Because I’m in the store cupboard…The door slammed shut…The door to the store cupboard…No, I’m in the cupboard. Oh, for f—Come downstairs and open the store cupboard. Now!”
Every second that Patsy took to find them felt more amusing than the last. Eventually they heard her outside.
“Patsy!” shouted Dan.
There was a pause.
“Patsy!”
“Who—who’s there?” came Patsy’s voice from outside.
“We’re in the store cupboard.”
Another pause.
“Why?”
Katie giggled. “Because it’s where the oil is,” she yelled.
“Oh hello, Katie!”
“Hello Patsy!”
“Why are you in there?”
“Because it’s where the oil is,” she repeated.
“Oh,” said Patsy. “Right.”
“Patsy, listen to me,” shouted Dan.
“Hello Dan.”
“Hello! Listen to me.”
“Right.”
“Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Open the fucking door.”
“Oh, OK. There’s no need to shout.”
It took Patsy two full minutes to manage the key the right way and by the time she opened the store cupboard they were weak with laughter.
“Hi guys!” she squealed.
“Hi Patsy,” grinned Dan, allowing Katie out ahead of him. Patsy followed them upstairs with a sage running commentary. “We wondered where you were! And you were in here all the time! We had absolutely no idea! That is so funny! That is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. That is literally hilarious. Why were you in there?”
Dan and Katie stopped on the stairs.
After they’d gone back down and got the oil, there were thick and gooey chips just like the Gazette reporter’s dead mother used to make. That Thursday, Crichton Brown’s got five stars in the local paper, and the photo of all the staff smiling by the coffee maker was put up in the kitchen. If the local paper had used color photos and expensive printing techniques, people might have noticed that two of the staff had an extra inner glow. But the paper didn’t, so no one did. And anyway, that was not of prime importance. What was important was that Crichton Brown’s was officially on the map.
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