When Katie and Edna arrived, life was stirring in the Simmonds household. Sydney and Cliffie had left for work and Deanna and Bea were in the kitchen. Katie sang out a cheery hello from the hall before leading Edna in. Deanna and Bea stared in astonishment at them.
“I thought you were still in bed,” Deanna said to Katie before turning to Edna. “Hello Auntie. What a lovely surprise!”
“Hello my dear,” said Edna. She changed to a gleeful whisper. “We’ve been plotting.”
“Oh God,” said Deanna, sitting down heavily at the table. “Go on. Tell me the worst.”
Great-Aunt Edna turned to Katie. “I see what you mean,” she said. “Doesn’t fill you with confidence, does it?”
Katie pulled up a chair next to her mother and placed a hand on hers.
“Don’t worry Mum,” she said. “I don’t blame you for your damaging lack of confidence in me.”
“What?” asked Deanna.
“Wait!” ordered Bea. “I’m just preparing Eddie’s milk. Wait for me. I don’t want to miss this.”
Edna approached the baby with her face stretched into an enormous smile and over his mummy’s back Eddie laughed a delicious laugh. Bea finished preparing the milk, sat down with Eddie in record time and stuck the bottle in his mouth. He guzzled contentedly.
“Well, you see,” began Katie. “I-I think I know what I want to be when I grow up.”
Deanna and Bea didn’t bat an eyelid.
“Is it an acrobat, darling?” asked Deanna.
“A dog-trainer?” asked Bea.
“No,” said Deanna, “no, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, it’s, a…bagpipe player?”
Katie sighed and waited for silence.
“Oh I’m sorry darling,” smiled Deanna weakly. “It’s only my way of putting off the panic attack.”
Katie gave her mother a pained look. “Do you usually get one when I say that?”
“Oh my sweetest heart,” said Deanna. “It kicks in at the sound of your voice.”
Katie was speechless.
“Right,” said Edna slowly. “I think that’s enough unconditional maternal support. Now for Katie’s announcement.”
Katie mumbled something about the time not being right, to which Edna replied that the timing could not be more right, to which Katie mumbled something about not being in the mood and she’d had a rather tough week what with work and everything. Bea and Deanna were now agog and soon Katie had all three women cajoling her to talk.
“Great-Aunt Edna and I,” she began, and Bea gave a little squeal, “have decided what I’m going to be when I’m grown up.”
“Which means,” added Great-Aunt Edna, eyes twinkling, “I will change my will, leaving Katie all my money.”
There was silence. Not even Eddie dared make a noise. Katie went for it.
“I am going to buy my own café and manage it myself.”
Bea and Deanna processed this information while Katie glanced at Edna. Edna gave her a quick smile which beamed across to her like a lighthouse.
“And-and,” said Katie, “not just any café. I’m going to ask Mrs. Blatchett if she’d like to sell Ye Olde Tea Shoppe to me. That’s where I was when I realized I wanted to invest in a café—yesterday when we were there, Mum. In all honesty, it’s—it wasn’t my first choice,” she looked over at Great-Aunt Edna. Her voice lowered. “I love working where I am and I’d love to stay being manager there. But…” she sighed and Great-Aunt Edna squeezed her hand over the table “…we’ve thought it all through, haven’t we?”
Great-Aunt Edna smiled. “Yes, my dear.”
“And we do think it would be a very…sensible choice.” Katie sat for a while with her eyes down, before looking up at her mother and sister and giving them a wide, if thoughtful, smile.
“So you’ll be coming home!” gasped Deanna, and to everyone’s surprise except hers, started crying.
“Did you hear that?” Bea asked Eddie. “Auntie Katie’s coming home!”
“Well yes,” smiled Katie. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
Now all she had to do was set the wheels in motion before braving her London friends.
“What’s that look for?” asked Edna. “It’s all going excellently.”
“Yes,” said Katie. “Yes it is, isn’t it?”
When Dan took the call from Paul he knew something was up. For a start, it had been the first time Paul had contacted him for almost two weeks, and only after Dan had left countless messages on his voicemail. The last time they’d spoken, all Paul had seemed interested in was if he was getting his big city promotion—he was hoping to get the same amount as a bonus as Dan was hoping to achieve as annual turnover. Dan had hoped he might put some of it toward the café, but, from the silence, had assumed Paul hadn’t got it. So his initial response was to be glad to hear from his business partner. However, it didn’t take long before he was fearing the worst. Paul asked to meet up with him that evening in the café; he couldn’t talk now. Then he rang off abruptly. Dan knew it was difficult to talk in an open-plan office full of lads, but why did he want to meet in the café? Why not up in town? Because it was easier for Dan? It was totally out of character for Paul to put Dan’s feelings before his own.
After the call, Dan stood in the middle of the café, eyes down, hand over mouth. Was it going to be good news or bad news? Had Paul got the promotion or not? If he had, would he want to invest any of his increased salary in the café? Or was it bad news? Had Paul fallen into the classic city trap and spent money, only to find that he hadn’t got the promotion and was now in debt? In which case, was he actually going to want to take money out of the business? Unfortunately, that sounded much more like the Paul he knew and loved. Well, he would just have to be firm with him. This was a business, his livelihood. He was not looking forward to this meeting. He wished Katie was here for moral support.
He suddenly felt claustrophobic. He rushed out of the café, just about remembering to yell to Patsy that he was nipping out for something. As he walked up the hill, he let his mind dwell where he knew it shouldn’t.
The truth was he wished Katie was here, full stop. He missed her terribly and constantly. He missed her in the morning before he got into work because he knew she wasn’t going to be in. Then he missed her all day and only in the evening did he pick up a bit at the thought that she might be in the next day.
Her absence had made him realize that every time he walked out of the kitchen into the café or out of the café into the kitchen, the thought that he was approaching her was a miniature high of his day. And every time he looked up at the monitor in the kitchen and saw a grainy yet unmistakeable image of her, there was another little lift. He’d even been known, while he was on his own in the kitchen, to stand motionless and watch her, safe in the knowledge that no one could see him.
Without her, he felt he was walking with an extra weight of loneliness inside him. And it had only been two days. He had never felt like this over Geraldine, even when they’d split up. What if Geraldine had been right and Katie had had her head upside down when she’d phoned in sick? What if she wasn’t ill but was really busy going for job interviews? What the hell would he do if she didn’t come back?
More importantly, what the hell was he doing feeling like this about Katie when he was engaged to Geraldine? And how vulnerable did that make him, when Katie could turn her own emotions on and off like a light-switch?
Had Katie realized he felt this way about her before he had? Could she tell that he kept having dreams about the time they got stuck in the store cupboard? Was she scared by the intensity of his feelings? Or was it all just a game to her?
Why was she really off sick? Were his feelings repelling her? Frightening her? Nauseating her? Or amusing her?
He got to the top of the hill without even noticing the climb and realized he was out of breath. He turned round and walked slowly back down the hill, telling himself he was over-reacting. When he got back, he walked through the café a
nd straight into the kitchen. He gave a little cough and then made his suggestion.
“Why?” asked Sukie. “She’ll be in again when she’s well.”
“Well she’s been off for three days now,” said Dan, “and she did sound awful.”
Sukie shrugged. “So phone her.”
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” said Patsy. “I’d like to think that if I was ill you’d phone me to see how I was.”
“He wouldn’t need to phone you, Beautiful,” said Nik.
“Why?” asked Patsy.
Nik grinned. “’Cos I’d have phoned you first.” He gave her a wink that had destabilized many a woman before and Patsy responded with a laugh Barbara Windsor would have been proud of. Sukie walked past Dan out of the kitchen. “Excuse me,” she muttered. “I may just barf.”
They watched her go and then Patsy and Nik started wondering why she had suddenly turned so spiteful.
“It’s not our fault we’re having fun,” pouted Patsy, delighted.
Dan was unable to answer them. He tried to work out when the atmosphere had suddenly soured and asked them if they’d said anything to Sukie recently that might have upset her. While they tried to cast their minds back, he glanced up at the monitor in the corner and saw Geraldine coming into the otherwise empty café. Oh shit. He knew exactly where she’d been; she’d taken time off work to collect her engagement ring, and if he knew Geraldine he had to get out there fast. There was absolutely no way she’d understand why he hadn’t told anyone about their engagement. He muttered something to the others about discussing this later and then—
Too late. He stood, paralyzed as the grainy image of Geraldine on the screen stretched out her hand across the counter and displayed her ring to Sukie. He watched out for signs of surprise from Sukie followed by surprise then muted anger from Geraldine. He rushed out into the café to face his fiancée’s wrath.
The two women turned to him and he stopped. Geraldine gave him a smile.
“Gorgeous ring,” said Sukie. “I always knew you were a man of taste.”
“Well,” said Geraldine, “he did pick me.”
“Exactly,” smiled Sukie.
Thank God, he thought. Sukie had thought on her feet and not let on. She had saved him a day of heartache. She deserved a rise.
Later that afternoon, Katie went to Ye Olde Tea Shoppe. She sat at the table nearest the kitchen, so that she and Mrs. Blatchett could talk in relative privacy. She looked at the café with new eyes; the eyes of a future owner. She studied the layout, she looked at the view on to the street, she considered the number of tables, she scrutinized the menu and she wondered what the first changes would be. She realized how consistent and how correct Ye Olde Tea Shoppe’s image was for its clientelle. Mrs. Blatchett had been thorough and spot-on with her vision for this place. It had been no lucky coincidence that her business had stood the test of time. It appeared that Mrs. Blatchett was more than a little old lady in sturdy shoes. She was an astute businesswoman ahead of her time. Katie suddenly felt nervous.
“Hello my love,” she greeted Katie, wiping her hands on her pinny. “What can I do for you?”
Katie swallowed hard, fighting the temptation to ask for a cream tea and then go home. She’d never been daunted by Mrs. Blatchett before. “Mrs. Blatchett,” she said quickly, before she could change her mind. Then she went quiet.
Mrs. Blatchett frowned. “Do you mind if I sit down? Only I have a feeling this is going to take time.” She sat down at the table, opposite Katie, and gave a deep sigh. Then she gave her a direct, but not severe, look. “What’s on your mind, my dear?”
Katie told her she didn’t know where to start.
“Pretend you’re a newspaper,” instructed Mrs. Blatchett immediately. “Give me the headline, then the first paragraph, and then the whole story. And if you can, finish on a weak pun.” She gave a little chuckle.
“Would like to buy your café,” said Katie. Mrs. Blatchett stopped chuckling. She stared at Katie. Then she nodded for her to go on. “I have excellent relevant experience,” continued Katie, “and I have come into some money. I would like to update the café while maintaining your vision exactly. So…you could say…that I would like to make over your business,” a thin film of sweat lined her upper lip, “more than take over your business.”
Mrs. Blatchett gave her a pat on the hand. “I was only joking about the pun,” she said softly.
Katie gave her a wan smile.
Mrs. Blatchett explained that her son, Dennis, who lived on the other side of the world, was to inherit the café. If he liked the sound of Katie’s offer, the café was hers. As long as Katie would not mind giving Mrs. Blatchett a regular afternoon shift. She was far too old to learn how to do nothing with herself. “Mind,” she said, pointing a knobbly finger at Katie. “Dennis is no pushover. I feel I should tell you that.”
Katie grinned. How had she ever thought Mrs. Blatchett was sweet? This woman was terrifying.
They agreed that Dennis would contact Katie through his solicitor before the day was out and then Katie left the café feeling more adult than she had ever felt before.
She went home, packed up her car and said her goodbyes. Then she popped in to say goodbye to Great-Aunt Edna and set off back to London where she was desperate to put things straight: apologize to Jon, straighten things out with Sukie and then hand in her resignation to Dan. She would work her notice. She would be there for the summer party, at the end of the week: it was an event Dan was hoping would become a regular, along with the Christmas party, so it was vital that the first one was good. In fact the whole thing had been her idea, so there was no way she’d leave him in the lurch before that.
There was no doubt about it, she told herself as she drove home, Dan had been a more than decent boss. She had been given complete carte blanche with nearly all of her ideas, despite her being bolshie and prickly to him. However, the possibility of being her own boss, of not having to answer to anyone and of being responsible for herself was proving more thrilling than she could ever have imagined. Oh yes, this was the right thing to be doing. And not just for her. She needed to leave Dan and Geraldine alone. In the cold harsh, unforgiving light of day she knew that she should leave them to their joint risk-taking. (And Geraldine was certainly taking on a risk with him. A man who could so lightly betray her.) She tutted to herself, said out loud that all men were the same and then put on her Divas album.
Sitting in the Gnat and Parrot after work, Eva took the compliment from Matt as it had been intended. Eva knew how to take a compliment. This one, though heartfelt and genuine, wasn’t the best she’d ever had, but it would do. She gave Matt a warm grin and thanked him sincerely.
“I mean it,” he insisted.
“I know,” she insisted back.
“You’re so easy to talk to.”
“So you said.”
“It’s almost like talking to myself.”
There was a fraction of a pause before she thanked him again, slightly less effusively than before. Then she crossed one leg over the other and resettled herself. She’d worn a short floaty skirt with little navy flowers on, a strappy navy top, strappy white sandals, a funky bright plastic ring on the middle finger of her left hand and a white cardigan for later. Her dark wiry hair was up in a ponytail; carefully coiffed ringlets shaping her face, and her features were enhanced with subtle, expensive make-up. And it had all been worth it because she was, she had just been informed, the easiest person in the world to talk to.
She glanced back at Matt, who was now staring at her short floaty skirt with little navy flowers on.
“So,” he started slowly.
“Yes?”
“I was just wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Has Jennifer said anything to you about me?”
Eva pulled a face. “It’s all got a bit awkward at work, so she has other things on her mind at the moment.”
“What’s happened?” asked Matt. “Has his fian
cée found out?”
“No! If she had, Jennifer would be sacked. You wouldn’t want that to happen to her would you?” Matt was silent for a while. “Would you?” she repeated.
He shrugged. “If it meant she’d come crawling back to me,” he said in a dull voice, “and force me to have wild passionate sex with her…” he sighed, “I’d live with it, yes.”
“You’re all heart, Matt.”
They took contemplative sips of their drinks.
“So what are the complications then?” he asked.
“You really want to know?”
“I really want to know,” he answered stoically.
“Right,” prefaced Eva. “Well, at the moment, Jennifer’s problems include trying to find a cupboard big enough for her and her boss to do it in without his fiancée finding out, but with enough people in the office to realize so that his fiancée is suitably shamed and humiliated.”
Matt grimaced as if he’d just been punched in the stomach. The thought of that old man touching Jennifer actually caused a physical reaction in his body. How was that possible? He hadn’t even felt sick watching Pulp Fiction. He hung his head. Oh God, this must be love. Why hadn’t anyone told him love felt like being sick?
“So,” Eva said. “Let’s try and talk about something else. Seen any good films lately?”
He shook his head.
“Theater? Do you like theater?”
He shook his head.
“How’s school?”
He grunted.
“How’s the café going?”
He shrugged.
“What did you think about the war in Iraq?”
Another shrug.
“What’s your favorite color?”
They sat in silence for a while.
“So,” said Eva eventually. “When was the last time you saw Jennifer?”
“A week and a half ago. She’s stopped coming into the café. Is she avoiding me? Or has she just got better things to do with her lunch-hour? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. You see, that’s the thing—”
The Waitress Page 34