The Waitress

by Melissa Nathan

  He hadn’t slept a wink. He’d put on the World Service till Radio Four had kicked back in, but he hadn’t heard a single word. Perhaps he should pop into the café today and see Katie; it would be good to see someone he knew, someone he could really talk to. Someone he’d once loved. Do him good. He covered his mouth, alarmed by the sound escaping from it.

  Chapter 28

  BY THE TIME SHE GOT TO WORK ON THURSDAY MORNING, KATIE WAS beginning to feel a tad tetchy. Partly with Dan for not returning any of her calls, but mostly with herself for making such an enormous wazzock of herself. How many times had she called him in the end? For goodness sake, she was supposed to be his manager! How could he possibly respect her when she couldn’t even leave a basic answerphone message? Truth was she knew she could hardly blame him for not calling her back—he’d probably pulled a ligament laughing so hard at her messages—but blame him she did. She’d stayed in all evening, tense with anticipation at the thought of sharing a phone call with him. She hadn’t been able to go to bed until midnight, assuring herself that he might have been at some important late-night meeting and might yet phone. Then she hadn’t been able to sleep till three. Needless to say she was exhausted this morning. And with tomorrow being the big party she really didn’t need this. Then when she got in, she discovered that he wasn’t in work again, but this time no phone call to explain. What was going on? Was he going to leave them all?

  Meanwhile, things were not going quite as smoothly with her own plans of leaving. The purchase of Ye Olde Tea Shoppe wasn’t quite going according to plan. It turned out that although Mr. Blatchett was very keen to sell the café to someone his mother knew, who knew the area and who had management experience, and although he was a lovely man who was not interested in making a fast buck out of a business his mother had nurtured like a child, he was also very, very keen to get that £10,000. Katie had managed to go up £1,500, thanks to a promised loan from her parents, but he was not budging. He hadn’t even come down £500 to pretend to meet somewhere near the middle. It looked like he was not playing. This was the price, take it or leave it.

  Katie realized that she had to consider the real possibility of losing the tea shop, and she felt utterly despondent at the thought. How could she not get what she wanted, if she wanted it this much? She realized in an instant why she had put off this moment for so long. Pure self-preservation. Now that she’d finally realized what she wanted to do, she didn’t want to wait any more, not even a day. Life was too short. Today was the first day of the rest of her life and she wanted to buy Mrs. Blatchett’s café.

  And typically, for the first time in her life, everything else was on hold too. Dan wasn’t in again so she couldn’t tell him her monumental news. She couldn’t even talk about it to Sukie and make it real that way. She so wanted to tell her about the change in her, and how it had all started with Sukie’s bluntness; confess that Sukie had probably changed her life. If not that, just connect with her again; share a joke, a moan, a sarky comment. She’d settle for just some eye contact, but Sukie was refusing to look at her and she was feeling more and more alone as the morning progressed. She’d tried talking to Patsy, but that had made her feel even more alone.

  Patsy was nowhere to be found when the commuter queue started, so Katie and Sukie had to work it together.

  “One cappuccino with two sugars to go, one almond croissant and a Mars Bar, please,” said the first extremely early commuter.

  “Diet going well then?” Katie asked, putting the croissant in a bag as Sukie made the coffee. Surely Sukie would respond to that, she thought.

  “Oh no,” laughed the commuter. “I gave up on that years ago.”

  “Really?” gasped Katie.

  “Yes!” The commuter held up her Mars Bar. “Look!”

  Sukie handed the commuter her coffee, unsmiling. “That’s £3.50 and she’s taking the piss.”

  The commuter handed the money over, smiled uncertainly and thanked them both.

  Katie stared in disbelief at Sukie. That was beyond the pale. Some things were sacred, and the Them and Us attitude was one of them. She’d had enough. She did not deserve this. As far as she was concerned the woolly mittens were off.

  “Oh I’m so sorry,” she said. “Was I stealing your role of arsy bitch?”

  “No,” Sukie replied evenly, giving her a deadened look. “I just think that not everyone is blessed with your metabolism.” She started wiping the counter.

  “Not everyone’s blessed with your hair,” Katie replied just as evenly, “so does that mean you’ll stop calling that eleven o’clock Americano Worzel?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Yeah right,” muttered Katie. “Because that’s you and not me.”

  “No,” said Sukie, “because I don’t do it to his face. Your woman can’t help the fact that a Mars Bar helps her through her boring day at the office. At least she got off her arse and got a job. You’ve got to respect that.”

  “What the hell am I doing? Finger painting?”

  “Morning ladies!” cried out the first of the 7.14. “And isn’t it a beautiful one?”

  “No!” they shouted.

  She looked at them. “OK,” she said slowly. “My mistake. I’ll have a double espresso and two slices of toast please.” As Sukie went to the toaster, she called after her, “Please could my espresso be blacker than my toast this morning, there’s a dear.”

  Sukie ignored this and Katie smiled at the commuter. “Sorry,” she told her loudly, starting to make the coffee, “but you see, Sukie’s the unluckiest person in the world. Count yourself lucky you only got burned toast.”

  “Oh,” murmured the commuter.

  “Do you know,” continued Katie, “some people believe they’re unlucky because they’ve got a terminal illness or have been debilitated in an accident.” She laughed. “Did you know some people in this world are blind! Or deaf! But,” she leaned forward, “not one of them is as unlucky as our Sukie.”

  “Why?” Three commuters were now agog.

  “Because,” she concluded, “Sukie Woodrow is not famous yet.” She heard Sukie suck in air behind her. “Of course,” she continued, “she did go and pick the hardest career in the world because she wanted lots of people to watch her and think she was wonderful. And then for ages she refused to listen to her agent’s advice, because she thought she knew better than her agent who had years of experience and would actually benefit from her doing well, so had her best interest at heart. But that’s what happens when you’re unlucky and everyone else is lucky.” The commuters all stared over at Sukie, whose face had gone a funny color.

  “You bitch,” whispered Sukie.

  “Shame really,” continued Katie, turning back to the commuters. “She had such good friends that they came to see every play she was ever in—not just once in the run, but every night of every single run—and they spent hours of their lives listening to the unluckiest person in the world moan on and on and on about how crap it was when someone else got the part instead of her, just because they were better looking than her or taller than her or shorter than her or more blonde than her or less blonde than her or a better actress than her. But I suppose some people are just cursed with bad luck.”

  “Have you two had a row?” asked a commuter.

  “That’s £2.75 please.”

  As the commuters left, Sukie ran into the kitchen, probably to get a knife. Katie let out a deep breath and leaned against the counter. She had to face facts. There would be no best-friend making-up scene. Sukie really did hate her. And where on earth had she found all that vitriol from? She’d always thought she loved Sukie. In wondering, she remembered sitting through the worst open-air Midsummer Night’s Dream in the world, during which 200 teenage boys had sniggered and hooted every time someone said “Titania” and after the interval it had hailed. She’d been wearing a summer dress and had caught a cold which then turned into flu. Now she came to think about it, that evening alone had earned her absolute
loyalty from Sukie and Sukie had more than reneged on the deal.

  She jumped as the kitchen door slammed shut again and Sukie was standing behind her, panda-eyed.

  “Oh my God!”

  “I know! I’m sorry,” rushed Katie. “I don’t know what—”

  “Nik and Patsy are at it on the cooker!” screamed Sukie.

  Katie felt her eyes and mouth open wider than they’d ever opened before. It hurt. Then, to Katie’s amazement, Sukie started laughing. She tried to say four times that Nik’s Homer Simpson underpants were round his ankles, but in the end she just had to push the kitchen door open and pull Katie by the hand. If Katie thought her eyes and mouth couldn’t open any wider, she was proved wrong. She did an Edvard Munch silent scream and then, before risking making any noise, ran back into the café and almost burst. Sukie clamped her hands over Katie’s mouth and pulled her to the café door and then on to the street where they finally allowed themselves to laugh out loud. Pedestrians stared as Sukie laughed so much she almost started to retch. Katie feared she might need stitches afterward.

  Ten full minutes later, sitting on the café floor behind the counter, exhausted, they both looked at each other at the same time.

  “Ooh that felt good,” said Sukie.

  “Not as good as for Patsy and Nik obviously,” said Katie.

  “Obviously.”

  They smiled at the image again.

  “By the way,” said Sukie quietly. “Thanks for coming to all those plays.”

  Katie smiled. “’Salright,” she said.

  When Sukie put the café phone down, she called out to the others. “Dan’s not coming in again today.”

  Patsy and Katie gathered round. Even Nik came out of the kitchen for this.

  “Why?” asked Nik.

  “Who?” asked Patsy.

  “How did he sound?” asked Katie.

  “Not good,” said Sukie. “Like he had a really bad cold. Or he’d been crying.”

  They all looked at each other.

  “What the hell has happened?” asked Katie.

  “Maybe he’s having woman problems,” said Nik. “Poor bastard.”

  Sukie shook her head. “Surely you wouldn’t miss work just because of that.”

  “Well,” said Patsy. “Maybe she’s broken off the engagement. Maybe he’s broken hearted.”

  Katie gasped and turned to Sukie. “Sukie! That was a secret!”

  Sukie was staring at Patsy, who was covering her mouth with her hands. “Sorry!” she squeaked. “Nik told me.”

  Katie stared at Sukie. “You told Nik as well!”

  Nik decided now was the time to return to the kitchen. Patsy stayed put, chewing her gum aggressively.

  Sukie sighed. “Katie, I’m afraid it’s not a secret any more.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Katie.

  “I should have told you,” started Sukie. “Geraldine came in here when you were away, showing off her ring like it was the first engagement ring in the world. It’s massive by the way. I made all the right noises, which was easy because I knew already, even though he hadn’t told us, but Geraldine assumed he had. Then he came in while Geraldine and I were chatting, and he wasn’t remotely surprised that I knew already. In fact, he seemed to be really relieved about it.”

  Katie frowned. “He knew you knew?” Sukie nodded. “But he definitely hadn’t told you?”

  “No,” said Sukie, shaking her head. “He hadn’t said a word about it.”

  “And he definitely knew you knew?”

  Sukie nodded sadly. “Yeah. Well, he didn’t make any noises about having forgotten to tell me or anything.”

  “And he definitely seemed relieved that you knew?”

  Sukie nodded sadly again. They all stood in silent concentration.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” whispered Katie finally.

  Sukie nodded. Patsy shook her head.

  “It means I was the only person who could have told you.”

  Sukie nodded. Patsy frowned.

  “And you know what that means, don’t you?” whispered Katie.

  Sukie nodded. Patsy shook her head.

  “It means he knows I know.”

  “I know,” whispered Sukie.

  “Know what?” whispered Patsy.

  “Which means,” whispered Katie, “that he knew I knew at the wedding.”

  “I know,” whispered Sukie.

  “What wedding?” whispered Patsy.

  “Which means,” whispered Katie, “that he’s officially a bastard.”

  “I know,” whispered Sukie.

  They wandered off to the kitchen, leaving Patsy standing on her own. She followed them in.

  “Who just phoned?” she asked.

  During a quiet break after lunch, Katie phoned her mother. She knew once and for all that she needed to get out of this café, and now wanted to sort out a deal with Dennis Blatchett before Dan came back to work. Not only did she want to be her own boss, but she didn’t think she could face him. The thought that he must have known all the way back to London in Hugh’s car that she was aware he was engaged, and had done nothing to explain his behavior or try to placate her, was too painful to bear. Her mother knew something was up—Katie was unable to keep the hurt out of her voice—but Katie told her that she couldn’t talk about it now. They would talk properly later. For now she just had to concentrate on finding the money Dennis Blatchett wanted as soon as possible. When her mother explained that she simply didn’t have any more money to lend, Katie accepted that she would have to phone Great-Aunt Edna and beg. Once the decision was made, it was easy to make the call and Great-Aunt Edna had surprised her yet again. She too could hear the pain in Katie’s voice and guessed all too soon that it was caused by a man.

  “My dear,” she said. “Economic independence is much better than chocolate at a time like this—although chocolate helps.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” Katie sniffed. “I promise.”

  “Oh nonsense, my dear,” said Great-Aunt Edna with a smile in her voice. “No chocolate can be that expensive.”

  To her surprise Katie heard herself telling her great-aunt that she loved her and the silence from the other end of the phone told her the point had been made and made well. When she rang off, Great-Aunt Edna’s voice had a catch in it.

  With one elegant sniff, Katie phoned Dennis Blatchett’s solicitor and explained that she had the money. She waited while he woke Mr. Blatchett in New Zealand. When her phone rang again, she answered immediately.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello,” said Dennis Blatchett’s solicitor. “Is that Ms. Simmonds, new owner of Ye Olde Tea Shoppe, I’m talking to?”

  Chapter 29

  THE BIGGEST DAY OF CRICHTON BROWN’S CALENDAR HAD FINALLY arrived. Friday was a textbook summer day: the endless sky, weightless air and warm breeze made people’s limbs lighter, hearts happier and smiles wider.

  Katie arrived extra early, sure that Dan would have to make it in today and would probably do so at the crack of dawn. She was wrong, so she had a long morning ahead of her in which to get riled. She had intended to tell him before anyone else got in that she was leaving. She didn’t want the rest of them to know until after the party, or possibly after she’d signed the paperwork with Dennis Blatchett, but Dan she’d wanted to tell immediately. As she turned the coffee machine on, her plans changed. If he didn’t come in today she wouldn’t tell him at all. She’d just leave, no explanation, and the sooner the better. She’d given him more than enough chances to contact her—made an absolute fool of herself trying to, in fact. So sod him. Time to leave.

  By the time today’s commuters started arriving, she had gone one further and decided there was no time like the present and she’d leave straight after the party. She’d tell Sukie and Jon on the way home, pack and then drive back to Glossop during the night. She must remember to scrawl through her contact details on the café list before she left, so that Dan wouldn’t be able to
call her. Not that it seemed remotely likely that he’d try, but just in case; then it really would be an effective way of getting on with her life. In fact, the thought of getting that wretched roundabout correct this time filled her with nervous determination. Yes, this was it. Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of her life. She’d pop in on Great-Aunt Edna for breakfast again and then together they’d go to the lawyers and on to the café to celebrate with Mrs. Blatchett. Why shouldn’t Great-Aunt Edna be in on all this? It was her money after all. She felt a surge of fondness for her and smiled at the thought of pleasing her. Would she cry? Would they both cry?

  When only a rather sour Sukie turned up, followed by a nauseatingly happy Nik and Patsy, Katie began to suspect that Dan actually might only come for the party. Paul was rumored to be coming with his new fiancée and surely that would bring Dan out of the woodwork? Unless he was unable to face them without Geraldine? She grimaced.

  At the end of the 7.14 queue she forced herself to dwell on Dan’s feelings for Geraldine. Could the reason for his absence really be her? Could he truly be this broken hearted by her? That one hurt. It dawned on her that all this time she’d clung to the belief that Dan had been biding his time with Geraldine. Just like she’d clung to the belief that Hugh hadn’t really cared for Maxine. Well, she had to face it. Hugh had been bereft by Maxine’s betrayal and Dan was bereft by Geraldine. Yet again, she was a footnote, not the heroine.