Daisy beamed with satisfaction. 'Well there you are then.'
'There I am then…what?
'You want to know about him as much as I do, so stop lecturing me.'
'I'm not "lecturing" you.'
'You are!'
'All right then, I am, and for good reason.'
'And what might that be?'
'Two things.' Taking off the pretty dark blue hat with its tiny brim and blue cotton band, Amy ran her fingers through her short brown hair. 'For all we know, he could be a really dangerous man, and he must know how much you're attracted to him, the way you keep sneaking a look at him with those big, moony cow eyes. You could be playing with fire. That's the first thing.'
'And what's the second?'
Lazily placing the hat on the nearby chair, Amy warned, 'If there's nothing sinister about him, and he's just a man who likes to be left alone, you should leave him be. If you frighten him off, you'll lose one of your best customers and then you'll never find out who he is.'
While Daisy considered her remarks, Amy took off her coat. 'Now then, are you going to serve me or what?'
Daisy gave a long, impatient sigh. 'Being as we're quiet, can I sit with you? It's time for my break anyway.'
'All right. If you promise not to drive me mad.'
Daisy rolled her "moony cow eyes".
'What d'you want to eat—same as usual, is it?'
While Amy glanced quickly through the one-page menu of fry-ups, barm cakes and pie-and-peas, Daisy's attention drifted to the man, then back again to Amy, her one and only friend.
She had taken to Amy the first minute she'd wandered into the cafe some two years ago. It had been a grim, wet day and Amy had got caught in a downpour. Having sought refuge in Tooley's Cafe, she had brought it alive with her bright friendly chatter and warm engaging smile. She had a streak of mischievousness that often caught Daisy off guard and made her laugh till she ached. But Daisy had also discovered her own mothering instincts when her friend's fiancé had left her, practically at the altar.
Amy was now a regular customer, always loaded down with shopping, always ready for a chat, with her down-to-earth and lovely manner. It was on Tuesdays that Amy went to pay a couple of the smaller wholesalers who supplied Atkinsons' Corner Shop, owned by her parents, and where Amy herself worked. She also did the weekly shop then, her parents being too busy working to find the time. Daisy looked forward to Tuesday more than any other day of the week. In between serving customers, she would press her nose to the window, watching for Amy, knowing that when she came through that door the whole room would light up and so would Daisy's heart.
Amy had her serious side too. A good listener, she was kind and considerate, and when Daisy came to work saddened by the acrimonious situation at home between her parents, Amy gave her hope for the future, and Daisy had come to see her as the sister she never had.
Although, at twenty-four, Amy was just two years older than Daisy, she had a calmer, deeper nature, and that special ability to put people at their ease; whether it be through her engaging smile, or her easy, friendly manner.
She was not dazzlingly attractive, but she had a certain magnetism that seemed to draw people to her. Her face was small and heart-shaped, with a halo of light brown hair that fell in natural waves about her ears, and her mouth was generous, with full lips upturned at the corners, like a smile waiting to happen. Her eyes were her best feature, though—deepest blue with a naughty twinkle. Small of build, she had a slight figure, and it only took a few minutes of knowing her to realise she had a warm, open heart.
Daisy knew what Amy would order, but she asked all the same. 'You'd best make your mind up,' she urged. 'Any minute now, I could be rushed off my feet.'
Amy looked about the half-empty cafe: there was the man by the window; a little old couple in the corner, Daisy and herself. 'I don't think there's any danger of that just yet,' she teased, 'but just in case, I'll have a pot of tea…and one of your toasted barm cakes.'
Daisy shook her head. 'Sorry, no can do. The toaster blew up. We're waiting for the fella to come and mend it.' She laughed. 'You should have seen it this time…there was a big bang and the bloody toast went flying in all directions. Come and look.'
Amused, Amy followed her. 'Not again! That's the third time.'
Daisy shrugged. 'There must be a fault somewhere.'
Smiling, Amy shook her head in disbelief. 'It's you. You're the "fault". You're not supposed to snatch the plug from the wall every time you think the toast is done enough. You have to switch it off first.'
'Then it burns the toast!'
'That's because you haven't got the setting right.'
'It's a nuisance! I don't like the bloody thing. I never have.'
'So, use the grill instead.'
'Mrs Tooley won't let me. She says she's not spending good money on new things for me to ignore them. That toaster is her pride and joy. I'm to use it, and that's an end to it. I did use the grill once, when the toaster went wrong and she tore me off a strip for making a mess everywhere.'
'But Mrs Tooley only comes of an evening to collect her takings.'
'What's that got to do with it?'
Amy explained, 'Well, now that she's got her new fancy man, she hardly ever shows up here during the day, so she won't know you're using the grill—not if you clean it up half an hour before she arrives.'
As the possibilities dawned on her, Daisy's frown became a wide, cunning grin. 'You're right!' she gasped. 'I'll use the old things and clean 'em up before she gets here!'
'I'm glad that's settled!' Amy knew how to put a smile on Daisy's face. 'So now, can I please have my tea and barm cake?' Feeling mischievous, she teased, 'And while you're gone, I'll have a word with the stranger. I'll find out who he is and where he's from. Oh, and you'll want to know if he's married or if he's got a girlfriend, and whether he's well off or stony-broke, in which case you won't want to know any more about him and we'll all get some peace. OK?'
Daisy knew she was being teased and went along with it. 'While you're at it, happen you'd best ask if he lives local, 'cos I followed him one time and he suddenly disappeared—went down a side street and was gone like will-o'-the-wisp.' She threw her arms wide and opened her hands to demonstrate.
Amy was surprised. You never told me you followed him!'
'No, because you'd have told me off good and proper.'
'Quite right too.' Amy put on her most severe, reprimanding look. 'Following men down alleyways…what if he'd turned round and attacked you?'
Daisy chuckled. 'I should be so lucky!' She glanced through the kitchen door at the man. 'Anyhow, does he look like the sort who would attack anyone?'
Amy followed her glance. 'Maybe not, but you never know.'
He was certainly a mystery, she thought. Although as Daisy said, he didn't seem like the sort who would turn on a woman. There was a kind of gentle strength about him that would protect rather than hurt.
'I'll get your order,' Daisy said, adding hopefully, 'I bet you won't dare speak to him while I'm gone.'
Amy continued the charade. 'If I do, and providing he gives all the right answers, I'll ask him if he'll take you on a date, because you fancy him summat rotten.'
'Oh, I wish you would,' Daisy sighed. 'Three whole months he's been coming here. Almost every Tuesday without fail, and I don't even know his name!'
Realising she would have to wait for her breakfast, Amy resigned herself to listening while Daisy chatted on about the 'Tuesday man'.
Taking a moment to observe this busy, bumbling person she had come to know so well, Amy took in the big brown eyes, the shock of wild auburn hair and the pretty face with its multitude of freckles over a pretty, pert nose. Short and voluptuous, outgoing and friendly, Daisy was once seen never forgotten.
Amy thought of Daisy's miserable home life, with the constantly feuding parents.
For as long as Amy had known her, Daisy had suffered wretchedly at the hands of her selfish, boorish pa
rents. Their noisy, sometimes violent, arguments, often fuelled by drink, meant that Daisy could never invite Amy to her home. In Mrs Tooley's fuggy little cafe, Daisy could escape the unhappiness of her home by chatting with the customers, teasing and joking with the friendly regulars, and even flirting a little with the men. In this way, Daisy could create some much-needed fun in her life.
'Look, Daisy…don't get too infatuated with your Tuesday man,' Amy warned. 'If he'd wanted you to know who he is, I'm sure he would have told you.'
'But he wants to talk,' Daisy confided, 'I can tell that much. Sometimes he looks so sad, and sometimes he smiles at me and I want to sit next to him like I'm sitting next to you, only he looks away, just when I think I'm getting through to him.'
Amy shook her head. 'Maybe he's not such a "mystery",' she said quietly. 'Maybe he comes in here because he lives alone and needs to be amongst people. Or maybe he comes in here because he's got a wife and ten children and he can't get any peace at home. Either way, if he needs to be quiet and alone for whatever reason, it's his choice and you should respect that.'
Casting a sideways glance out at the man, Amy sensed his loneliness. Daisy was right: he was a mystery—always preoccupied, head bent to his newspaper, while not seeming to be actually reading it. Instead he appeared to be deep in thought. Sometimes he would raise his head and gaze out of the window, before eventually returning to his newspaper or thoughtfully sipping his tea.
He never looked at the other customers; in fact it was as though he was totally oblivious to them. It was a curious thing.
'What are you thinking?' Daisy's voice cut through her thoughts.
Amy looked up, her voice quiet as she answered, 'I just think he deserves to be left alone.' She smiled fondly at the other young woman. 'Not everybody's like you, Daisy,' she pointed out. 'Some people really do like their own company.'
Daisy shifted her gaze to the man. For a long moment she didn't say anything, but there was a troubled look in her eyes.
'Daisy, are you all right?' Reaching out, Amy closed her hand over Daisy's. 'Has something happened at home?'
Daisy shook her head. 'It's the same,' she confided with a sad little smile, 'always the same.' Drawing away her hand she added brightly, 'Here's me chatting away and you cold and famished. Sorry, love. I'll go an' get yer breakfast.'
'But something's wrong, isn't it?' Amy had learned to read the signs. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
Daisy shook her head.
'All right, but I'm a good listener if you need me.'
Daisy gave that little smile again. 'I know that.' With a roll of her eyes, she looked over to where the man was closing his newspaper. 'If only a man like that could sweep me up and carry me off, it would solve everything.'
'Oh, Daisy. You can't mean that!'
'Why not?'
'Well…'
Amy took another discreet look at him. He was certainly handsome, there was no denying that, with his long easy limbs, fine sensual lips and that dark brown tumble of hair. Once, when he looked up at the clock over the counter, Amy had caught sight of his dark, brooding eyes. There was something about him that stirred the senses.
'Hey!' Daisy gave her a prod. 'You were saying…?'
Ashamed and startled at her own thoughts, Amy returned, 'I just don't think it would solve your problems to run off with some stranger and, besides, like you said yourself, you don't know the first thing about him.'
'But if he carried me off, I'd soon find out, wouldn't I? Anyway, what's to know? He pays his bill with proper money, and he always treats me with respect. Leaves a tip he does, and smiles up at me when I serve him.' She gave a girlish giggle. 'Anyway, even if it turned out he was some sort of rogue, he's so good-looking it wouldn't matter a bugger! A man like that…I could forgive him anything!'
Amy was alarmed. 'You're too trusting.'
'And you're too bloody suspicious!'
Amy changed tack. I'm also cold and hungry, and I've changed my mind about the barm cake. I fancy a hot meat- and-tatty pie…with a helping of mushy peas and a dollop of that awful gravy you make.'
Daisy bounced over to the fridge. 'Don't get cheeky, lass,' she wagged a warning finger, 'or I might refuse to serve you. In fact, I might shut up shop and lock myself in…with him.' She winked as she went. 'And it's no good you getting jealous, 'cos I'm the manager here and what I say goes.' With that she sauntered off to open a tin of peas and suddenly, softly started to sing.
'Whatever makes you happy,' Amy chuckled, resuming a seat at her table.
She looked across at the man and when he unexpectedly smiled at her, her heart took a leap. For what seemed an age he held her gaze before turning away.
Confused and embarrassed, she fumbled in her shopping bag. Drawing out this month's Woman and Home, she opened it up and spreading it across the table, pretended to read. In her mind's eye she saw his smile, soft and friendly, reaching out to her…and those wonderful dark eyes! Daisy was right. He was devilishly handsome, and yet, there was such sadness about him—a kind of lost look that had touched her deeply.
'What you got there?' Daisy was back. Placing Amy's order in front of her, she turned the page of the magazine. 'Heck! Look at that!' Pointing to the elegant model in centre-page, she called Amy's attention to the blue spotted dress with thick belt and flared hem,'How much!' Her look of rapture turned to one of horror. 'One and ten! I'd have to work a whole month before I could buy that!'
Amy wasn't listening. Something else had alerted her. Strangely uneasy, she turned to see the man looking straight at her again. He held her gaze for a second or two, then he stood up and walked towards the door with long easy strides. 'I think your mystery man is leaving,' Amy told Daisy quietly.
'What!' Looking up, Daisy saw the door close behind him. 'Damn! He always does that to me!'
Amy tutted mischievously. 'What? You mean he sneaks off without paying?'
'No, you daft ha'pporth!' Daisy groaned. 'He always leaves his money on the table. I wish he'd pay at the counter, then I might get chance to quiz him a bit.'
Amy's curious gaze followed him as he went past the window and away down the street. 'Maybe next time,' she said quietly. 'But I wouldn't count on it if I were you.' Because there was a man who had a lot on his mind, she thought, and he wasn't about to share his secrets with anyone at Tooley's Cafe.
Just then two more customers arrived, a middle-aged woman with a younger woman who, judging by the argument going on, appeared to be her daughter. 'What in God's name d'yer think you're playing at?' demanded the older woman. 'By! If your dad knew, he'd hit the roof!'
'I don't give a bugger what he says!' snapped the younger woman. 'It's his fault I'm leaving. Miserable old git, I don't know how you've put up with him all these years!'
Daisy groaned. 'Bleedin' Nora! It's them two! Argue all the time, they do. I've a good mind to bar the pair of 'em.'
Amy couldn't help but laugh. 'Good customers, are they?'
Daisy nodded. 'Three times a week, regular as clockwork: two full breakfasts and gallons of tea.'
'Right!' Amy gave her a shove. 'What you do is shut your ears…if you can bear not to eavesdrop. Then you smile, and serve them and take their money when they've finished. And now if you please, I'd like my breakfast.' With that she gave Daisy another shove and Daisy toddled off to ask the other customers, 'What can I get you, ladies?'
And back came the swift answer, 'Piss orf. Can't yer see we're not ready yet!'
Cursing under her breath, Daisy quickened her steps to the kitchen; while Amy, having heard the whole thing, found it hard not to laugh out loud.
When behind her, the argument raged on between the two women, she looked up to see Daisy, elbows resting on the counter, ears pricked and eavesdropping like a good 'un. 'That's my Daisy!' she chuckled. 'Can't resist a good argument.'
Amy loved her Tuesday shopping, and her regular stop-off at Tooley's Cafe because rain or shine, there was always something going on.
&nb
sp; Then, as thoughts of the man came into her mind, her amusement turned to concern. What made him so afraid to reach out, she wondered. What was it in his life that put the sadness in those deep, dark eyes?
Like Daisy she would have loved to know more about him.
She glanced out the window but he was long gone. 'A burden shared is a burden halved,' she murmured. And he had seemed to want to talk, she thought. Just for that split second or two when he held her gaze, he had seemed to be reaching out to her.
But then again, maybe it was only her imagination.
Chapter Three
'What plans have you got for tonight, lass?' Strikingly pretty, small-built like Amy, and with the same bright smile and brown hair, Marie Atkinson was mild-tempered and of a kindly nature. 'Off somewhere exciting are you?'
It was a Friday evening and Amy was busy emptying the till in the shop. She glanced up at her mother. 'I might go to the pictures with Daisy.'
'Hmm! Sounds like a good idea.' When she was younger, Marie had always fancied herself as a film star. 'What's on?'
Concentrating on separating the silver coins from the less valuable copper ones, Amy said, 'I think it's Charles King in 'The Broadway Melody'.
Marie liked the sound of that. 'By! If your dad weren't coming home tonight, I might have joined you,' she said dreamily. 'Ooh! I do like Charles King.' She tap-danced on the spot. 'Feet of magic and a smile that turns you inside out. I wouldn't mind a little twirl with him.'
Amy laughed. 'Don't give me that! If it was a choice between Dad and Charles King, you'd pick Dad every time.'
Marie kept on dancing. 'Happen I'll let your dad get his own dinner. Happen I'd rather put on my glad rags and go to the pictures with you and Daisy.'
Knowing how devoted to her father Marie was, Amy laughed. 'I can't see you letting Dad come home to an empty house, not even for Charles King! Besides, you've always said how nobody could ever take Dad's place.'
Exhausted, Marie stopped dancing and leaned over the counter. 'You're right, lass,' she said breathlessly. 'There's not a man in this world can ever tek the place of your father.' Her face wreathed in a smile, she let her mind wander back over the years. 'Me and your dad have been wed almost twenty-five years, and I wouldn't swap a single minute.'
Live the Dream Page 2