The Waitress (18 page)

‘Having a good time?’ he asked loudly.

‘Am I shite.’

He grinned and nodded. ‘Have I told you my amazing news?’

‘You’re buying the café?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Is it me or is there a monster dancing under the floorboards?’ asked Katie.

‘You get used to it after a while.’

‘I feel like I’m wearing a pacemaker.’

He shook his head apologetically and pointed at his ears.

‘Get me a bloody Mary and tell me your news,’ she shouted.

‘Two agents want to meet me,’ he shouted.

‘That’s amazing!’ she yelled. ‘Where’s my drink?’

He nodded and grinned again. Katie mimed drinking and then took a pen from Jon’s pocket and wrote down her order on a napkin. He read it and then wrote something underneath it. She read ‘Coming right up madam.’ She raised her eyes to heaven.

Over the next half an hour, she managed to hear enough to glean that this time he wanted to meet them, and the only thing helping him contain his excitement was his blank utter terror. He’d never known two emotions battle so valiantly before and he felt both deserved to win.

‘Where’s Sukie?’ he asked. ‘I need to tell her. I need advice.’

‘Downstairs trying to get the chef naked.’

He frowned. ‘Jamie Oliver?’

‘I’m going home now,’ shouted Katie, ‘to learn sign language.’

Jon’s face lit up and just when she was about to congratulate him on hearing and getting the joke, she got jabbed in the waist from behind. She turned round to see a sweaty, grinning Sukie beside her. Sukie waved. She waved back.

‘What do you think of Dick?’ asked Sukie.

‘Dick who?’

‘
Nik
!’

‘Fine.’

‘Vile?’

‘
Fine
.’

Sukie nodded.

The three of them didn’t talk properly until they were walking home an hour later.

‘Are your ears ringing?’ began Katie.

‘
Singing
?’ asked Sukie.

‘RINGING.’

‘Nope,’ belched Sukie. ‘Pardon.’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ said Jon.

When they dropped Sukie off at her place, she offered to make them a cup of tea and they refused. Katie had to get up early tomorrow.

‘Ah yes,’ said Sukie. ‘First day as manager.’

‘Fuck off,’ Katie said, banging her ear with her palm.

‘Ooh,’ said Sukie. ‘Get her.’

‘Gimme a break,’ said Katie, her ears finally popping. ‘You don’t want to be manager and you know it. So don’t spoil it for me.’

They stood for a moment in the cold, getting used to the silence slowly coming back.

‘Yeah,’ said Sukie quietly. ‘You’re right. Sorry. And I will enjoy my lie-in tomorrow while you’re working through things with Dan.’

Katie groaned at Dan’s name. ‘Oh my God, my life is shit.’

‘You can help me prepare for my interviews,’ Jon told Sukie.

‘OK,’ said Sukie. ‘Lunch is on you.’ She waved as they sauntered away.

They walked down the hill, up their road and to the front door. Katie grunted half-heartedly as they
approached
, so Jon found his key. They walked up the stairs to their flat door and she waited as he opened it. He dropped his jacket off his shoulders by the coat pegs and she picked it up and put it on the hook. He yawned. She yawned. They walked to their rooms and each slept as badly as the other.

12

The next morning Katie’s hangover was bigger than her body. As she shuffled down Asherman’s Hill, she was convinced it must be throbbing or pulsing or glowing. Possibly all three. How could this much pain be invisible? Her joints were competing for Most Pain Award. She had taken pain-killers but they’d probably got lost working out where to go first.

Maybe this wasn’t a hangover, maybe it was flu. Maybe, she thought slowly, just maybe, the hangover was masking some type of malarian killer flu that she’d caught at the nightclub from someone and they’d already died. When they did the docu-drama about it, after her tragic death, Sukie would play her and a Hollywood scout would spot her and she’d marry Tom Cruise. Maybe then Sukie would like her again.

She really was in a kind of hell. There she was minding her own business despising her job and then wham! She loved it and didn’t want to lose it. Two minutes later, wham-bam! Boss from hell. If only she could explain to Dan what had happened to make her run out of that restaurant, but it wasn’t that simple and she didn’t have
the
money for therapy to work it out. She had no choice, she was going to have to be adult about this situation. Big poo. Because that meant she would have to apologise. Ever since her first apology at the age of three to her best friend Manda, for sucking her toy cowboy till he frayed, she’d found apologies difficult.

It would hurt, but she’d have to say sorry to Dan for running out on their date. She decided she’d do it before Dan even said hello. She wouldn’t let that stupid male pride get a grip (hers, not his), she would humble herself endearingly, naturally and winningly. Suitably won over, he would then explain that he and Geraldine had been a hideous mistake – one of the worst nights of his life – and she would go on to prove to him that she was indispensable as a manager and had a very cute body. Then she’d start dating a self-made millionaire she’d met at the gym and he’d cry into his business strategy.

Well, it was a plan.

As she walked out of the newsagent’s, opening today’s much-needed sugar rush, she glanced at the café. She was early, thanks to only being able to sleep for four hours last night, and The Café was still unchanged. She crossed the road and stood in front of its doorway, watching her reflection as she finished her chocolate bar. She stepped forward and looked in. She leant closer and shielded her eyes with her hands against the glass of the door, squinting to see inside. She tried imagining the faded décor with a new look, failed and stepped away again. Then she turned round and leant heavily against the door. To her amazement, she fell in.

She looked up to see Dan standing by her head.

‘I see you don’t need a key,’ he said.

‘The door was open.’

‘Well spotted. You may find you’re too intelligent to be a manager.’

She crawled up and watched him walk behind the counter. From there he explained how, now she was here, they could move the coffee machine and the cash-till to the front of the café before the builders arrived.

‘Right,’ he said, taking off his jacket. ‘Ready?’

Her eyes widened. ‘I’m not moving that thing.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m five-foot tall and weigh eight stone.’

He gave her a look. ‘I thought women wanted to be treated equally.’

‘Yeah pound for pound,’ she retorted.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means find someone your own size to treat equally.’

He gave a scornful laugh. ‘Haven’t you heard of feminism?’

‘It’s funny how men only say that when there’s something heavy to carry or one seat left on the train. That’s where all male feminists are. In trains. Sitting down.’

‘We don’t have time to discuss this,’ he said, approaching the coffee machine.

‘
You
don’t,’ she muttered hotly, walking past him to the kitchen. ‘You’ve got a coffee machine to carry.’

She slammed the door, went straight to the sink and ran the cold tap over her head. She wasn’t going to be able to do this. She was already close to tears and she’d only just got here. She came up from under the water. Right. Get a grip. Start again. She would apologise to Dan. She would
humble
herself endearingly, naturally and winningly. She would not cry or punch him in the face.

When she came back into the café, pinny on, hair wet, she found him standing in exactly the same position he’d been in when she’d left him. Not a thing out of place. She felt a bit like Doctor Who coming out of the Tardis. The only difference she now noticed, on second glance, was that his face looked like thunder. A Constable thunder, all intensity and impending doom.

She took a deep breath and prepared to humble herself endearingly, naturally and winningly when he suddenly spoke.

‘I can’t bloody move it on my own, can I?’

She blinked. ‘How long have you been standing there?’ she asked.

‘Look, who is the boss here?’ he asked.

She looked round the café and then back at him. ‘Did you move it at all?’

‘I said, “Who is the boss here?”’

‘You didn’t, did you? Bloody hell, you just stood there.’

‘Right,’ he broke in suddenly. ‘Remind me to put you forward for Employee of the Year.’ He pushed his sleeves up further and approached the coffee machine as if he was about to kick-box it.

She ran in front of it and blocked it. ‘Don’t move this coffee machine.’

He stepped back in surprise. They stood like that for a moment. Then he spoke quietly. ‘Will you please get out of my way?’

‘What time are the builders getting here?’ she asked.

He thought for a moment. ‘Eight. Why?’

‘Well, we don’t need to move it till then, do we? We can serve an entire commuter queue before they get here.’

Before he had time to answer, she walked past him to the café door and opened it.

‘We tend to leave this open,’ she told him briskly, ‘so the customers know we’re ready for business.’ As she stood there, wondering how on earth this was the same bloke from Sandy’s party, a commuter walked past her into The Café. ‘See?’ she said, giving him a look so sweet it came with fillings.

Dan watched an instant queue file in as if they’d been waiting behind the door all night. Most of them asked Katie the same questions: What was happening to the café now? What the hell had she been drinking last night? Where was Sukie? What were the new owners like? What did she mean crap?

He pretended to busy himself collecting the menus.

‘Any time you want to help,’ she called out to him, ‘feel free.’

He didn’t answer.

‘Just jump right in,’ she called out again.

‘I’m waiting for the builders.’

‘Ah yes! They’ll be punctual and want to start immediately, I expect.’

She finished the queue and came out from behind the counter. ‘Right. Let’s move it ready for the next queue.’ She looked at her watch. ‘The 7.44 will start arriving in about ten minutes.’

She looked up at him. His arms were crossed.

‘I think,’ he said, ‘we need to have a little chat about our manners.’

‘OK,’ she said. ‘You’re a bit brusque, but you are new, so –’

‘Yours.’

She blanched. ‘Let’s sort out the customers first shall we? The later they are, the more they panic.’

No,’ he said. ‘Let’s sort this out first.’ He took a deep breath and spoke slowly and quietly. ‘I do not like being talked to as if I’m an idiot.’

‘How would you like to be talked to?’

Dan spoke lightly with a pause in between every word, as if she was a bit dim and he was her remedial teacher. ‘Like I’m your boss.’

She felt blood rush to her cheeks. ‘You are kidding, right?’ she whispered.

‘I am not kidding,’ he said. ‘Because I
am
your boss.’

She stared at him and he gave her a simple smile. No crinkle this time. ‘No clever answers to that, are there?’ he asked eventually.

‘No,’ she muttered. ‘There are a few that would be very satisfying though.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said. ‘It just depends how much you still want a job afterwards.’

‘I’ll let you know at the end of the day.’

‘I know the feeling,’ he said.

‘So do I.’

‘Good.’

‘Good.’

Right.

That was good then.

‘Now,’ said Dan. ‘Let’s move this coffee machine to the front of the café.’

As they manoeuvred it, they both became aware of a man standing watching them from the doorway. He wore a T-shirt and jeans and looked about eight months pregnant. When they looked at him, he gave them a brief wink and a knowing grin.

‘More exercise than you’ve both had in a while, eh?’

‘Ah!’ cried Dan. ‘Harry. Excellent.’ He turned to Katie. ‘The builders. You’ll note they’re punctual and ready to work.’ He turned back to Harry. ‘Let’s get cracking shall we?’

Harry clapped his hands. ‘Not till I’ve breakfasted, mate. Just came to tell you the lads are down the other caff and will be back here in about half an hour, bright n’ breezy n’ ready to start.’

Dan started saying something, but Harry wasn’t listening. Dan and Katie watched him saunter out, whistling a merry tune.

‘You were saying?’ grinned Katie.

‘I don’t know what you’re so pleased about,’ said Dan. ‘You’re helping me shift it back.’

‘What?’

‘You heard.’

She stood up and stared at him over the coffee machine.

‘What the hell is your problem?’

‘I don’t have a problem,’ he said.

‘Yes you do, and you know it.’

‘I’ll remind you –’ he started.

‘No,
I’ll
remind
you
–’

‘One cappuccino,’ said the first of the commuters for the 7.44. ‘And a slice of toast. If that’s OK.’

They stared at him.

‘One cappuccino –’ he repeated.

‘Does it look like it’s OK?’ asked Dan.

The commuter stared and then looked at Katie. ‘What the hell’s his problem?’

‘I was just finding out,’ said Katie. ‘He’s the new boss.’

‘What’s he like?’

‘Crap.’

‘What do you mean crap?’

‘Well, he unplugged the coffee machine.’

‘Jesus. What next? Shut up shop while you refurbish it into some posh toff’s place?’

‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘Only an idiot would do that.’

‘Right!’ interrupted Dan. ‘Let’s get this machine back where it was. Katie?’

Katie turned to the commuter. ‘Pete, would you? Only, I’m a feminist and I’m making a stand.’

The commuter threw down his briefcase. ‘Of course, pet. Right. After three, one, two, three . . .’

By the end of the 7.44 queue, Katie was exhausted. She sat on the counter, letting her legs dangle limply. As she was wondering how to get to an apology from where she’d left off, a man entered the café. He wore overalls and a sorry expression.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’

The man seemed to have trouble registering thought.