The Little Cafe in Copenhagen

by Julie Caplin

  Chapter 23

  ‘What do you mean, the flight is fully booked?’ Josh folded his arms, planting his legs in front of the check-in desk. The mulish stance suggesting he wasn’t moving until he got the answer he wanted.

  I stood beside him, glad that this morning he’d decided to take charge. Since we’d assembled in the foyer of the hotel to get the mini-bus to the airport, there’d been a definite air of officious one-upmanship in his manner as if he had to prove that he was top-dog today. As we were homeward bound I’d left him to it, quite happy to take a back seat.

  The lady at the check-in desk smiled serenely in text book customer service fashion. She’d seen it all before and one irate customer wasn’t going to come close to denting her professional, I’m-the-one-holding-all-the-cards-here demeanour.

  ‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ she managed to inject exactly the right note of empathy in her gracious it’s-out-of-my-hands tone, ‘but due to poor visibility throughout the day, many of the flights were cancelled yesterday.’

  ‘But we’re checked in.’ His indignation rang out carrying to the back of the queue, causing a flutter of interest. ‘We’ve got our seat numbers.’

  ‘Unfortunately, the plane you were due to fly on was re-routed and the plane available today has fewer seats. I’m afraid I’m unable to offer all of you seats on this flight.’

  ‘This is totally unacceptable.’

  ‘I’m sorry sir but I can …’

  Josh pushed his shoulders back. ‘Yes, you can. You can get us onto this flight. You do realise that I have six members of the press with me.’

  I winced in time honoured British fashion.

  Her plastic smile stayed glued in place.

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want the publicity.’ Josh threw down the words and leaned on the desk with both elbows.

  Ouch.

  The smile slipped.

  ‘I understand that sir, but the flight is full.’ She looked at her screen and Josh leaned over the counter, craning his neck trying to see it.

  ‘Six journalists on leading national newspapers in the UK. Writing travel features. It’s not going to look very good for your airline, is it?’

  Her lips firmed and she shot him a distinct back-off-buster disdainful stare.

  He tipped his head to one side.

  With a quick toss of her head, she tapped at her keyboard, her mouth moving in time with her fingers signalling her veiled anger.

  ‘I could …’ She picked up her phone and spoke rapid Danish, giving Josh a steely look. The conversation was short and to the point and she put the phone down with a mouth as pursed as a prune.

  ‘We can offer some seats but not all eight. However, if any of your party would like to forgo their seat, they can take a later flight.’

  ‘When’s the next flight?’

  Now she did look troubled. ‘I’m afraid the earliest available seats because of the problems with flight control and the weather …’ she paused and I felt quite sorry for her. ‘Tomorrow. However, we will provide accommodation and expenses.’

  ‘Tomorrow. I have to be back in London today.’ Josh looked around at the group of us, huddling miserably in an embarrassed group.

  Avril looked worried; I knew she was desperate to see her husband.

  ‘It’s my cousin’s hen do,’ said Fiona uncertainly, ‘although I suppose it would be a good excuse to get out of it. I won’t know anyone there.’ The quick accompanying shudder was probably what made my mind up. She huffed out a reluctant sigh. ‘It’s just I said I’d take pictures for the bride’s photo album.’

  ‘And I’ve got tickets to the theatre tonight,’ said Conrad. ‘Although they are freebies.’

  ‘I suppose I could stay,’ Sophie offered chewing at her fingernail.

  ‘No,’ I wagged a finger, ‘you told me you have a hot date with your man tonight and that James is never around on Fridays or at the weekends.’

  Her awkward shuffle spoke louder than any words. James sounded a bit of a tosspot to me, there’s being good to your mother but shouldn’t Sophie come first occasionally.

  ‘Kate.’ Josh rounded on me as if he’d had the most brilliant idea. ‘Do you need to be back today? I can explain in the office.’ He lowered his voice. ‘For the greater good and all that.’ I looked at his sudden winning, weaselly smile. I had shocking taste in men. ‘I’ll let Megan know you gave up your seat.’

  ‘I’ll stay because it helps everyone else and I don’t have any major plans this weekend.’ I said pointedly. Trust him to think of it as a hot ticket to promotion. At this very moment in time the biggest bonus was that it was two hours less spent in his company. The girl looked at me with gratitude as Josh weighed it up.

  ‘But you can’t stay on your own,’ said Sophie, twisting her hands together.

  ‘Soph, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl,’ I gave her a cheery smile.

  ‘I’ll feel awful leaving you.’ Her eyebrows scrunched and I could see her wavering.

  ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘It’ll be a little adventure.’ The latter was said with more enthusiasm than it warranted, my idea of adventure lay between the pages of an Enid Blyton book and the Famous Five. ‘And … I’ll go see Eva.’

  Yes. Eva. She’d look after me. And feed me lashings of coffee and plenty of kanelsnegles.

  ‘I’ll stay.’

  Ben’s deep voice cut through. ‘My sister’s still at my flat with her kids. It’ll be my only chance of any peace and quiet. I’ve got some writing to do.’

  ‘Oh, that would be brilliant. Just think you can have another day here. And Kate won’t be on her own,’ gushed Sophie before I could say a word which was probably as well because I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, well not out loud.

  Ben was absorbed in his phone for most of the short train ride back to the city, which suited me fine. I had no idea what to say to him. Yesterday he’d made it clear I was persona non-grata, so I was still reeling from the shock that I was the lesser evil compared to his family and that he’d volunteered to stay.

  A couple of times I looked up during the journey to find his thoughtful gaze directed my way and regret pinched at me when he immediately went back to his phone rather than catch my eye. I wanted to apologise but there didn’t seem much point, we were back to where we’d been at the start of the trip. Perhaps where we should have stayed.

  As we pulled into Kopvahn Station, I was fully expecting him to ditch me and go off on his own. When I said, ‘I’m going to head to Varme for a cup of coffee. Tell Eva what happened and see if we can get our rooms back at the hotel. They might not have cleaned them yet,’ I was amazed when he responded, ‘That sounds like a plan,’ and fell into step beside me.

  Thankfully it was virtually impossible to walk side by side and manoeuvre our cases through the street, which meant there was no need for awkward conversation. It was a relief to see the welcoming sign of Varme down the street.

  Just as I was about to turn into the café, Ben laid a hand on my arm.

  ‘Kate, I … there are things I want to say. I was wrong about you, I want to …’ He stopped. ‘That’s odd. The lights aren’t on.’

  Although the door was slightly ajar the place was in darkness. I checked my watch again.

  ‘Hello. Eva,’ I called uncertainly, sudden fear eclipsing the jump of my heart at Ben’s unexpected words.

  It was nearly eleven o’clock but it felt closed. None of the little pots of flowers had been put out, there was no welcoming smell and not a customer in sight.

  ‘Eva!’ I walked into the middle of the room, calling more loudly this time.

  ‘Over here. Is that you Kate?’ Her voice echoed with disbelief, but then a tea towel flapped from behind the kitchen counter. ‘Can you help?’

  I dumped my case, hearing it clatter to the floor and strode towards the counter to lean right over, hitching myself on and sliding over, my bottom up in the air.

  ‘Eva! What have you done?’

 
She was half on the floor, twisting awkwardly trying to drag herself up on to a chair which was the wrong height for her to gain any purchase.

  I slid straight across the counter through into the kitchen, while Ben with more sense, chose to enter via the door.

  Quickly realising that she was favouring one leg, Ben with calm efficiency went straight behind her and lifted her up into the chair.

  ‘What happened?’

  Her pain-pinched lips sent a stab of fear right into my chest, especially when she didn’t give an immediate dismissive everything’s fine response. The lines of her face, folded tight in a sharp wince.

  ‘I slipped. Went over. My ankle.’ She looked beyond me. ‘The spandauer … can you get them out of the oven?’

  I looked at her and the oven, my hands flapping a bit uselessly. ‘What?’

  ‘They’ll burn.’

  Ben took pity on my indecision.

  ‘You do that first while I take a look. Let’s see the damage, Eva.’

  As I tended to the pastries, just in time to remove them as they were already glistening with golden glaze, I kept glancing over my shoulder at Ben as he gently lifted Eva’s ankle onto another chair. I paid for not paying full attention when I caught my hand on the oven shelf and jumped at the neat slice of pain that slashed across my finger.

  ‘Can you put them on the wire tray, Katie?’

  ‘Eva, you worry about yourself.’

  She wasn’t having any of it. ‘It’s there.’ She pointed to the cooling rack on the side. I rolled my eyes at her and slid the pastries from the cooking tray.

  ‘Could you put the next batch in?’ She winced as Ben gently unzipped her ankle boot. ‘They’re in the fridge over there.’

  ‘Eva!’ I remonstrated and ditched the oven gloves to come and stand over her. ‘That can wait.’

  ‘It’s just a silly ankle sprain.’

  ‘Hmm not sure about that,’ said Ben as the three of us looked at the rapidly swelling ankle joint. ‘Have you got an ice pack?’

  ‘Kan jeg fa en kaffe?’ interrupted a voice from the other side of the counter.

  ‘Lige et øjeblik,’ called Eva to the man who’d walked in. ‘In the fridge over there. Katie, would you make coffee?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Make coffee.’ She made to move and I waved a stern hand at her.

  ‘Stay there, I’ll do it.’

  Turning to the man, I asked, ‘Do you speak English?’

  He nodded. ‘Can I have an Americano?’

  ‘OK.’ Having made coffee the other day I was reasonably confident, although dealing with someone else’s customers in front of them made me feel like I had stepped on stage and wasn’t sure of my lines.

  Eva caught my eye. ‘Take your time. Look after him, he’s a good customer.’

  Which meant he was one of her people and needed looking after.

  He loitered for a moment looking wearily at the menu on the board propped up on the long counter.

  ‘Would you like anything else?’ I asked, with a smile. ‘The spandauer have just come out of the oven. They’re very good.’

  ‘OK. Thank you,’ his expression immediately brightened, making me glad I’d suggested the pastry. ‘I’ll take one.’

  ‘Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll bring it over?’

  He nodded, his attention now on his phone as he went off and sat down.

  ‘Excellent, Katie,’ said Eva, with an approving nod even as she winced.

  Taking it slowly I selected a nice mug, pulled out a plate, put one of Eva’s pretty floral napkins on it and then selected the biggest spandauer; the man looked as if he could do with cheering up, and placed it on the plate, grateful that Eva’s immediate attention was on Ben who had found the ice pack, wrapped it in a tea-towel and placed it over her ankle.

  ‘And what are you doing here?’

  As I made the coffee over the hiss of the steam, I explained about the flights.

  ‘Over there.’ Eva pointed them out before I even knew I needed a milk jug.

  I’d just served the first customer when two more people came through the door and took seats at the table in the window.

  ‘Don’t get up,’ said Ben, as Eva tried to stand up on one leg.

  ‘But …’ she protested. ‘The customers. I should close the café. I’ll call Agneta, my Saturday girl, see if she can come in this afternoon.’ Ben gently pushed her back into her chair and turned towards me. ‘Tell us what to do. Kate and I can do it. Can’t we?’ With his back to her, he pulled a wide-eyed, help-what-do-we-do-here face.

  ‘Piece of cake,’ I said for Eva’s benefit, giving him an equally wide-eyed-oh-God-what-have-we-done grimace.

  ‘OK, then.’ He closed the small gap between us, and held up a hand in a determined, we mean business fashion. As I high-fived him back, our eyes met and we both nodded. A brief, silent accord. For the next however long, we were a team.

  I took off my coat and grabbed one of the aprons hanging on the back of the door, rolling up my sleeves and then passed him one before picking up one of the pads by the counter.

  ‘Right. You can be washer upper and I’ll be barista and waitress.’

  ‘Washer upper.’ Dismay echoed in his voice and he held up his hands, with a mock indignant pout. ‘Do these look like hands that do dishes?’

  They were extremely nice hands and I had a quick vision of them holding a champagne flute.

  Eva let out a limp giggle.

  ‘They do now,’ I said firmly, turning away to hide the quick flush that stained my cheeks and sauntered out of the kitchen over to the table to take the two women’s order.

  When I came back Ben was closing the oven door. He winked at me, comrade-in-arms, as he followed Eva’s instructions to set the timer and I busied myself making more coffee, ignoring the funny lopsided beat of my heart.

  The kitchen wasn’t the biggest and as I turned to grab the ground coffee from its canister, I cannoned into Ben. He placed steadying hands on my waist. Time stopped for a second as we stared into each other’s eyes, our faces level. Then with a sudden click of mutual awareness, we realigned ourselves, squeezing past each other as he moved towards the sink. But after that it seemed impossible not to move, without brushing shoulders, catching hands, touching hips and coming face to face.

  By the time, I’d served up the women’s cappuccinos, he was ready with the chocolate shaker to dust off the coffees and had, following Eva’s exacting orders, ‘Make sure you cut them cleanly, and those plates not the other ones,’ cut two slices of fruit torte and plopped them with the finesse of a fisherman dropping his catch off onto a plate.

  As he picked up the tray, Eva held up a hand.

  ‘Before you take anything out, you must look at it,’ said Eva. ‘Ask yourself is the plate right? Does the food sit prettily? Does it look good enough? Would you serve it to someone you care about?’

  Ben’s blue grey eyes sharpened with sudden intelligence and he put the tray down, giving the plate a careful examination. Crossing to the fridge he pulled out two large strawberries and he held them up, smiled at Eva and I and then carefully sliced them in half, arranging them like two perfect little love hearts at a right angle to the point of the tortes before dusting them with a fine coat of icing sugar. ‘How’s that? Would you eat it, Kate?’

  My heart turned over in my chest, as he held out the plate.

  I nodded, my eyes widening as my quick startled glance met his solemn expression. Without another word he picked up the tray and took it out to the two women.

  Eva gave me a sharp assessing look and I turned away busying myself tidying up the old coffee grounds, wiping down surfaces and anything to avoid conversation.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad.’ Ben strode back into the kitchen. ‘I think we’re going to cope just fine.’ Eva and I exchanged a mutual smile and looked out at the near empty café. And then the door opened and a group of six people came in. While we served them, another two people came in and then
four.

  And suddenly there was no time to think about what we were doing. The milk frother hissed. The oven timer binged. Knives chinked on china as we sliced tortes, placed forks on plates and scooped up pastries. Orders came thick and fast and I darted around Ben, making coffees while he delivered the set up plates and trays. We moved into a seamless routine with him producing plates and cups before I needed to ask. He cleared tables and washed up as I took more orders and in between he bundled up cutlery in clean napkins, laid out trays and wiped up after me. He was quite a domestic god in the kitchen.

  Things started to get more complicated as it neared lunch time and people began ordering open sandwiches. Eva insisted that we could manage these, after Ben raised her up on a couple of cushions and moved her to a side table. He ran around getting the ingredients from the fridge and then assembled them, under her watchful eye.

  ‘Now put the rocket on the top. No. Do it again.’

  ‘But it’s just garnish. And we’re busy now.’

  Eva shot him a reproving glare.

  ‘Remember the love,’ I teased from the other side of the table.

  Ben raised his eyebrows and then seeing Eva’s stern look, rearranged the offending greenery more carefully and I caught the muttered, ‘OK, so not just garnish.’

  ‘That’s better.’ Eva nodded. ‘There’s no hurry. It’s always worth taking the time … you have to care enough. When customers see that, they don’t mind waiting.’

  More orders came in, and we got into a routine, me producing coffees, banging the coffee out in the compost like a professional barista as if I’d never left my Costa days behind and laying out the trays as we took it in turns to whisk out into the café to deal with customers, clean tables and take yet more orders.

  There were a few cock ups, like when Ben misread one of my scribbled orders and proudly took out three open sandwiches complete with crispy bacon garnish which he’d fried to perfection (after a second attempt) to be told that they were waiting for baked apple tarts but the Danes being Danish took all our mistakes in good part, especially when Ben explained that we were the B team. I suspect his English accent and winning smile also had a lot to do with it as many of the customers were women.