Dan shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “Every so often.”
“Well, what do you expect?” Katie tutted. “It’s like taking the kettle off the hob to see if it’s boiled.” Dan stared at the oven. “Leave it alone and do something else,” said Katie. “And put some oil on for chips.”
“Chips?”
“Yes, then you can do something simple like egg and chips. Some people might even order just chips to take their mind off the fact that there isn’t actually a main dish yet,” she looked at her watch, “at noon.”
Dan thought about this.
“Or,” suggested Katie, “you could stuff a pepper with some of the roasted veg from the fridge plus some rice—or make a tart with the veg and cheese. We’ve got peppers and pastry cases in the store cupboard. Then in half an hour there’ll be a choice of three lunches.”
Dan looked at her for a while, then looked back at the oven.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “My lasagne’ll be ready in a minute. Don’t want to overdo it.” He opened the oven door again.
“Don’t keep opening it!” cried Katie. “And it’s summer—people don’t want lasagne in summer. Any idiot knows that.”
Dan slammed shut the oven door. She couldn’t tell if his face was flushed by the heat or what she’d just said to him.
“Well that’s what they’re getting,” said Dan firmly.
“Not if you keep opening the bloody door they’re not,” she replied, just as firmly.
“Is there salad outside?”
“Yes. And sandwiches as usual.”
“Right.” Dan was pacing. “And later there’ll be lasagne.”
“Excellent,” said Katie. “Just in time for supper.”
They dared each other across the worktop with their eyes. Dan chewed his lip thoughtfully.
Katie counted to ten.
“You know,” she whispered, “it takes a very big man to admit he’s wrong.”
“Jesus Christ,” cried Dan, running his hands through his hair. “It’s like working with a bloody mind-reader.” Katie smiled and then stopped. “Get me twenty pastry tins and all the peppers we’ve got,” she said. “Plus ricotta cheese and eggs. And don’t forget the oil.”
“At least say please,” muttered Dan as he left.
She laughed and as he went further away, she was able to hear the sound of her own happiness. She stopped suddenly. She stared at the counter. She’d heard that laugh before. Oh dear. She was in trouble. What to do, what to do, what to do. She looked up at the monitor and saw Hugh enter the café. Thank you, she thought, and went out to be rescued.
When she reached him, Sukie had already asked him if he wanted a coffee and he was mumbling something about needing Katie.
“Hi Hugh!”
He turned to her and she was quite taken aback. He looked terrible.
“Hi,” he managed.
“You look like you need a coffee.”
“Have you got time for a little chat?” He was even speaking differently. Quieter and lower.
“I’m really busy, Hugh,” she said gently. When she saw his eyes well up, she instinctively touched his arm. “A quick chat,” she said. “Take a seat. I’ll just check everything’s OK in the kitchen. Don’t go away.”
After she’d got Dan started on simple preparations in the kitchen, she popped back out to Hugh. Maybe this was good timing; it would show Dan how important she was.
She sat down and gave Hugh her full attention, safe in the knowledge that she had delegated wisely in the kitchen and they could cope without her for the next five or ten minutes.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
To her horror Hugh started crying. She’d never seen him cry before and it didn’t take a genius to work out that he didn’t do it often. In fact he seemed not to know how to. He was making a squeaking noise and almost sneezing out his tears. She would have found it funny had she not found it so disturbing, and she put her arm round him. To her further horror, he turned to her and gave her a hug so fierce she could hardly breathe. She looked at Dan over his shoulder. He had started doing a little dance purely for her benefit, and after a moment, she worked out that he was in fact trying to semaphore to her, using his entire body, that he’d got a bit stuck and would be most appreciative if she could help. She tried to semaphore back to him, using only her eyebrows that she would be one moment and if the worst came to the worst, there was always his frigging lasagne.
Hugh unclasped her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be daft.”
“I just don’t know what to do.”
“What’s happened?”
He started squeaking and sneezing tears again. She could still see Dan and started feeling desperate.
“Hugh,” she said calmly. “I’m going to be two minutes.”
He nodded through his squeaks.
“Don’t go anywhere,” she said urgently. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Here,” she handed him a serviette, “blow your nose.”
She rushed into the kitchen where Dan was now standing by the oven and he spun round when he heard her. She knew the signs.
“Have you opened the oven again?” she demanded.
“No.”
“Oh for pity’s sake,” she muttered. “I’m going to have to leave you for just a few minutes, but here’s what you do. Cut the top off the peppers and seed them. Peel the veg and put the rice on to boil. Meanwhile put the pastry dishes in the oven for ten minutes. Ten minutes, not a moment longer. And start boiling the oil. Got that?”
“Yes,” nodded Dan. “Peel the peppers—”
“No!” She glanced back at the monitor and saw Hugh getting up. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She tore back out into the café.
Hugh looked up at her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Don’t know what came over me.”
“Sit down and have your coffee, y’daft beggar,” she said, “and tell me all about it. No squeaking.”
Hugh let out a snotty laugh and sat back down.
It turned out that he and Maxine were over. It also turned out that this was not the only reason he was crying. He was crying because the builders had given him a new estimate and the work on his new house was going to cost double what he thought it would. And she’d taken all the new furniture. And the whole house was painted in magnolia because she’d wanted magnolia when he’d preferred almond white. And she’d had a fling with the carpenter. He was called Dave.
“I’m broken,” he finished. “Broken. I’m squatting in an empty, magnolia-colored house, in debt up to my eyeballs and no Maxine to make it all better.” He started squeaking again and Katie decided not to tell him the obvious paradox in his thinking. Instead she turned to a shadow behind her. She smiled up at Dan.
“Hello,” she said. She turned back to Hugh. “Hugh,” she said softly, “I am working and we’re a bit short-staffed today. I’m going to have to go for now, but—”
Hugh started nodding furiously while making odd guttural noises. She watched in alarm and then looked up at Dan. To her surprise, Dan sat down.
“Hi there,” he said to Hugh. “I’m really sorry about this, but I’m afraid I need Katie in the kitchen. Perhaps you could come back at a quieter time.”
Katie nodded at her boss, turned to Hugh and held his hand over the table.
“Hugh—” she started.
“Go out with me!” demanded Hugh suddenly.
“Hugh.”
“Please. I just need to be with you.”
She heard an exasperated sigh from Dan and bristled.
“Of course Hugh. It will be my pleasure. I was going to suggest it myself.”
Hugh managed an impressive beam. “It’ll be just like old times. You and me,” he said, his eyes shining almost as much as the viscous tear nudging out of his nose. Hard to resist.
“Call me,” she said as she followed Dan into the kitchen, where she found frozen chips sprayed all over the cou
nter.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Pity dating, eh?” asked Dan. “Nice motive.”
She registered shock and flick-flacked through her database of fast retorts but none seemed to match the moment, while Dan tutted and picked up a knife and put it down again. “Just don’t run out on him in a restaurant,” he said. “He may be a danger to himself.”
“Hugh is an ex-boyfriend, of whom I’m still very fond,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How long did it last? Two courses?”
Her jaw dropped.
“Ten months,” she said.
“Ten months!” He spluttered, and then started nodding a lot. He looked at the monitor at Hugh who was now blowing his nose on a napkin. “Perhaps I should have played the loser card then. That’s obviously more your type.”
Katie was stunned into silence. She flick-flacked again through her database of pithy one-liners but it kept stopping at “It takes one to know one,” but that did her no justice at all.
“So anyway,” she said, turning away, “what are all these chips doing on the counter?”
“We’ve had four orders for chips in the last ten minutes,” said Dan, “and the lasagne’s probably going to be another half hour.”
“Hmm,” she said slowly. “And your point is?”
“My point is,” he spoke to her like she were a child, “that I’m your boss and I’m telling you to come in the kitchen and cook what you said you were going to cook instead of flirting on my time.”
She felt her eyes sting. “Right,” she said. “Point taken.”
Good, she thought. Hugh had done the trick, she told herself grimly. There would be no more laughing. Dan was a prick. He treated her with disrespect when she was clearly better at the job than he was. He was rude and selfish and knew nothing about food or about keeping the regulars happy. And he resorted to playing the boss card every time he felt outdone. She did not like him. She was safe.
Chapter 17
THAT DAY, BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM, DAN AND KATIE PREPARED and cooked everything available on Crichton Brown’s restricted menu. When they finished making the food, they helped out front and when they finished helping out front, they cleared everything up and cleaned the entire restaurant until it gleamed. It was impressive, but not as impressive as the fact that they did all of this without saying a word to each other. This may have been usual for Dan, but for Katie it was a new experience. She paid scant heed to her customers or Sukie that day, for she was indulging in a competition with Dan and she was going to be victorious.
When Nik called, she answered before the phone had rung twice. He told her that he was definitely coming in tomorrow, if he got any sleep that night. They chatted for a while until he thought he was going to be sick again. She was willing to wait, but he hung up. She was doubly grateful for the call, first because she’d had someone to talk to and second, because she didn’t think she could survive another day without saying whatever occurred to her out loud. It was giving her a headache.
“Girls aren’t meant to do things in silence,” she told Jon that night. “We’re not made that way. That’s why men beat us at sulking.”
“Mm,” grunted Jon.
At the end of the day, Katie sat waiting for Sukie to finish putting on her make-up for the walk home, her feet numb with pain. Dan came and sat down next to her.
“Well done,” he said finally, looking round the restaurant that they’d both just finished cleaning, silently. “You should be very proud of yourself.”
Katie gave him a long look. So, he was making peace. She had won. She let out a satisfied sigh. It would be nice to talk again.
“I don’t need you to tell me how to feel about myself, thanks,” she muttered.
She heard him say, “I’m—,” then they both started at the sound of Geraldine’s voice.
“Hello!” she said and came and sat down next to Dan. Katie got up and went to find Sukie.
“Ooh,” said Geraldine. “Was it something I said?”
“No,” said Dan. “She’s had a hard day, that’s all.”
“You weren’t too much of a taskmaster were you?” she asked eagerly.
Dan managed a laugh.
“So, how’s it going?”
Dan could barely focus his eyes. “Fine.”
“Good! I’ve had a wonderful day.”
“Good.”
“I went window shopping in my lunch-hour for rings, and I think I’ve found just the thing. We’ll go at the weekend.”
“Hmm?”
“I said we’ll go at the weekend.”
“Fine.”
Geraldine looked at her watch. “Right,” she said. “I’m off home to make you dinner and run you a hot bath. I’ll expect you in an hour.”
Dan closed his eyes. “Perfect.”
After she’d gone, he sat gazing into space for a while, until Patsy, Katie and Sukie trooped past him with their coats and bags on.
“Bye,” they chorused.
“Bye,” he replied, and watched them go, feeling envious without knowing why.
That night, Matt made it home from college in record time, dashing across the roads as if he had nine lives, without even looking left then right then left again. By the time he got there, he and the girl who’d spent oceans of time looking lingeringly at him were losing control together in a red Porsche. He didn’t own a red Porsche or even know anyone who had one, but it was a lovely dream.
“Wipe your feet!” greeted his mother in the hallway.
He gave her a quick kiss before asking what was for tea and dominating the kitchen with his presence.
His mates and even the A-gang girlies who sometimes joined them had noticed a difference in Matt, but he wasn’t telling. He wasn’t telling that, while they were whiling away their pathetic lives, he was planning a weekend away with all the trappings, and that while they were playing a stupid game of pool, they were in the company of someone who this time next year, might be having his girlfriend—his girlfriend—up to stay with him at university. Oh no, he wasn’t going to tell them why he was in such a good mood, tease though they might. They were children and he, he was a man.
By eleven that night, the female staff of Crichton Brown’s had fallen into bed, exhausted. Sukie dreamt of being on stage with Jon and Katie in the audience, who were married. Patsy dreamt of the cosmetics section at Boots, and for some reason Katie dreamt of Orinoco, who wasn’t even her favorite Womble. They all woke early the next morning.
Nik was still off sick, ringing to explain that now the poison had moved down his body and he’d been awake again all night. He was exhausted. His mate had also got it and had been told by his doctor to take two days off. Katie and Dan set to immediately. He fetched all the necessary ingredients from the store cupboard that she’d needed the day before, and, in a casual aside, told her he’d get some more chicken breasts if she wanted to do something with the ones from yesterday. She told him, just as casually, that it was too late, they had now been in the fridge for two days. He nodded and she turned quickly round, confident he’d got the message. They worked quickly and almost silently together, although now there were the odd and necessary one-liners, such as “Where are the cucumbers?” which yesterday they would have both hunted for rather than lower themselves to ask. The cold war was slowly thawing. Still, Katie found it hard to believe that only yesterday morning, they’d been giggling together like teenagers. It seemed like weeks ago now. Amazing that only one day later, they were barely talking. The fact was that however much of a prick Dan might be; however rude, selfish or disrespectful he might be, or however often he played the boss card when he felt outdone, she missed giggling with him. Which made her confront the fundamental truth that she liked him and being standoffish with him only hurt herself. This fundamental truth piqued her so much that she decided to be even more standoffish with him.
Then she decided she’d be much better at her job i
f less of her energy was spent thinking about Dan and her. Then she wondered if Dan felt the same way and started replaying all of their conversations to date.
As soon as Matt arrived, he promised to give anyone his share of the tips if they called him when the hot chick came in so he could take her order. Not that he needed to be called. His body told him exactly when it was one o’clock.
Sukie and Katie frowned heavily at him.
“Hot?” repeated Sukie, shaking her head. “Chick?”
“I’m so sorry,” said Katie, “I don’t remember there being any fowl on the premises, heated or otherwise.”
Suddenly Sukie gasped. She turned to Katie. “He means a woman!”
“Oh I see!” said Katie. “Oh, how sweet.”
Matt grunted, blushed and made his exit.
As it happened, Katie gave him the nod, but she didn’t hold him to his promise—she could tell from his pasty expression of determined fear that he hadn’t needed her prompting. He left the kitchen and stood, as nonchalantly as he could, against the restaurant counter, pretending to chat to Katie as he felt the girl walk toward him, closer and closer. He turned. She was even more beautiful close up.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi there.”
“You taking our orders today then?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” said Matt, focusing hard on getting the right syllables in the right order in the right words.
“Well, I would like a—”
“Oh, we haven’t got any hot food today,” he rushed. “Our chef’s still away. Only sandwiches and salads.”
“And chips,” said Katie.
“And chips,” Matt told her.
“And tartlets and stuffed peppers,” she reminded Matt.
“And tartlets and stuffed peppers,” he repeated.
“But no lasagne or pies or anything big,” Katie said, heading for the kitchen.
“But no—”
“Yeah thanks,” cut in the ugly friend. “We can hear her too.”
If the beautiful girl hadn’t blinked her large brown eyes at him in such a kind way, he’d probably have gone back to the kitchen too and never come out again.
The Waitress Page 21