The Waitress (28 page)

‘So how’s The Café?’ Hugh asked again.

‘Café/restaurant/bar,’ she corrected again.

‘Café/restaurant/bar.’ Hugh bowed his head reverentially again.

‘It’s good thanks.’

Hugh nodded. ‘And working for the new owner? What’s that like?’

‘Oh you know, like most bosses. Good points and bad points.’

Hugh nodded. ‘Good,’ he said.

‘And bad,’ helped Katie.

‘Where do I know him from?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Haven’t I seen him before?’

‘Dunno. More wine?’

‘Thanks. Absolutely positive I’ve seen him before. What’s his name again?’

‘Dan.’

Hugh shook his head. ‘Could have sworn it.’ He drank some more wine, while Katie tried to see what time his watch said. It appeared to be quarter to three. Did that
mean
quarter past nine? Or was it three in the morning and she’d been answering the same questions for nine hours? Difficult to tell.

‘Are you going to Sandy’s bloody wedding?’ asked Hugh.

‘Oh God.’ Katie slumped. ‘Yes.’

‘I know. All those bloody people,’ said Hugh, with more genuine emotion than he’d shown all evening long, ‘being so . . .’ he waved his arms about, trying to find the right words, ‘happy.’

Katie slumped some more.

‘
Bloody
. . .’ he paused for thought, ‘
hell
.’

Katie couldn’t agree with him more.

‘Bloody
Maxine
’ll bloody be there.’

It was the first time he’d mentioned her all night. Then, suddenly, he sat bolt upright, his eyes focusing the most they had all evening. He had either had a fantastic idea or sat on something sharp. ‘Oh my
God
!’ he screeched. Possibly both. He started clapping his hands and pointing at Katie and then pointing back at himself. She winced and frowned at him but she still couldn’t understand what he was getting at. He pointed at her again and then at him again, while making a strange, excited sound.

‘You and me!’ he finally managed. ‘It’s perfect!’

‘What is?’

‘Let’s go together!’ he cried, staring at her fanatically. ‘I’ve got a suite booked in the same hotel as the wedding, Maxine insisted. I’ll sleep in the lounge on the sofa and you can have the bed. My treat! You’d be doing me a favour. It’s a four-poster!’

Ooh, thought Katie. Beats sleeping on a park bench, which was probably where she’d otherwise end up.

‘You
have
to,’ said Hugh, filled with a sudden determination to win her over. ‘You
have
to agree,’ he insisted, ‘You
have
to. You just
have
–’

‘All right!’ cried Katie.

Hugh started laughing. ‘Fantastic!’ he almost sang. ‘That’ll piss her off!’

‘Oh Hugh, how kind!’ laughed Katie.

Hugh joined in the laughter until it sounded as if he was dangerously close to tears. Then he suddenly got all serious again. ‘I’ll pick you up first thing on Saturday morning and we’ll pootle down there in good time, maybe take in a spot of lunch.’ He started laughing again. ‘Maxine will be absolutely livid.’

‘Hold on a minute,’ said Katie, ‘I don’t want her to think we’re a couple or anything.’

‘No, no, of course not.’

‘Good.’

‘Mind you,’ reminded Hugh, ‘she did paint my whole house the colour of old wee and then take all the furniture.’

‘No, Hugh.’

‘OK.’ He held up his hand, as if swearing an oath. ‘“Caran D’Ache” will not think for one minute that we are an item,’ he said. Katie had to bite back a sudden tear.

‘Promise?’ she coughed.

‘Promise,’ he said and then belched to close the deal.

He gave her a shy glance. ‘Just like old times, isn’t it?’

She had to agree, it did feel somewhat cosy.

And then the whole evening shifted gear, Katie’s subject changing to Katie Simmonds, Beneath the Surface,
1997
to 1998. He asked her why, after ten happy months and without warning, she had finished with him all those years ago. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ assured Hugh, ‘I’m not having sleepless nights about it or anything, but it
was
rather sudden.’

And Katie found herself rewriting the past and her personality to fit his bruised ego.

‘It really was more about me than you,’ she finished, ‘and the proof is in the pudding.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I haven’t had a long-term relationship since then, so I clearly have relationship issues to iron out, but you and Maxine have been together forever.’

Perhaps it was not the best thing to say. Not only did it catapult them straight into the danger zone, but once she’d said it out loud, the truth of the situation suddenly hit Katie with some force. She hadn’t just said a cliché, she had just told him the truth: her finishing with Hugh really had been more about her than him. Jesus. While Hugh collapsed into squeaky, sneezing tears, Katie wondered if she was perhaps, the first person ever for whom that cliché was actually true.

18

The next morning was deceptive in its lazily beautiful start. Katie woke up to sun streaming in through her curtains and the reassuring sound of the kettle softly boiling. She found Jon pacing the kitchen, yawned a hello and joined him at the kettle.

‘I have
got
to get on with my work,’ he muttered to the wall.

‘I have
got
to stop drinking,’ she muttered next to him.

They stared at the wall together.

‘I’ll help you if you help me,’ said Jon suddenly.

‘OK.’

‘So far,’ he said, ‘there’s a very clever twist with a parrot and a dwarf, but I need another twist.’

She ran through yesterday’s customers and remembered the woman with unfeasibly large hands.

‘Why not put in a transvestite?’

He gave her a sideways look. ‘Why?’

She shrugged. ‘Because you can have someone thinking the murderer’s a woman until you realise one of the characters likes dressing up in women’s clothing.’

Jon started nodding slowly. ‘Hmm,’ he said, pouring boiling water into their mugs.

‘OK,’ said Katie. ‘Your turn to help me.’

He gave her a long look. ‘Stop drinking,’ he murmured, and left the kitchen.

By the time she’d walked to work, the sun was already burning hot. She opened the café door and once inside opened all the windows, which let in a delicious through-breeze. Then she offered up a prayer to the ceiling and crossed her fingers before calling out to Nik. After two beats, she got the response she was hoping for, thanked the ceiling and went into the kitchen to find him. Nik must have lost half a stone, most of which was tan, and Katie had to hide her shock at his pale, wan appearance. She also had to hide her shock that they hugged.

Everyone else got in early today too, just in case Nik wasn’t in again, and the first commuter queue and menu preparations were well under way by the time Dan arrived. In fact, all seemed to be going extremely well until mid-morning, when Katie and Sukie were sorting out the last of the morning queues and Patsy was helping Nik. Dan noticed a puddle by the freezer. His eyes doubled in size and his breath shortened. He pointed wildly at it.

‘What the hell’s that?’ he demanded in a voice that stopped all chatter. Patsy and Nik followed his finger and stared.

‘The . . . floor?’ asked Patsy.

‘What’s that
on
the floor?’ cried Dan.

‘The . . . freezer?’ she asked.

‘Oh
no
,’ breathed Nik slowly. He had seen what Dan had seen. ‘I hope that’s not what I think it is.’

‘Not as much as me,’ said Dan.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Patsy, eyes wide. ‘You’re frightening me.’

‘Are you going to open the door or am I?’ Dan asked Nik.

‘You are mate,’ replied Nik. ‘You’re the boss.’

Patsy started whimpering while Dan slowly opened the freezer door. She stepped back slightly towards Nik who instinctively grew an inch taller. Dan squinted in and slowly started to take out Tupperware boxes to put them on the counter. It took him a while to decide that all the food was defrosted, then much less time to have a nervous breakdown. He started pacing while Nik inspected all the food and Patsy rushed out to tell Katie and Sukie. After the last of the commuter queues had left, they all congregated in the kitchen.

‘Right,’ said Dan, ‘it’s all
perfectly
solvable.’

They looked at him.

‘It’s perfectly solvable, so no one needs to panic.’

‘Oh my God,’ wailed Patsy at the word panic.

‘It’s all right,’ said Katie. ‘All the stuff that we need for today is fine, so Nik – you just keep cooking like the star you are, while we worry about tomorrow.’

‘Excellent, yes,’ said Dan. ‘Nik, keep on cooking while we worry about tomorrow.’

‘Let’s get some chips going,’ said Katie.

‘Excellent,’ nodded Dan. ‘Let’s get some chips going.’ Nik started pouring oil into a pan.

‘Right,’ said Katie. ‘Now we need to deal with the freezer.’

‘Shall I buy a new one?’ Dan looked at Katie.

‘No!’ she said. ‘It’s still under guarantee, I’ll phone the manufacturer.’

‘Excellent,’ said Dan. ‘You phone the manufacturer while Nik gets some chips going.’

‘What shall I do?’ asked Patsy.

‘Er, the chip fryer’s broken,’ announced Nik.

‘
What?
’ cried everyone except Patsy.

‘
What?
’ cried Patsy.

‘I think the chip fryer’s broken,’ said Nik, his face level with where the flame should be. He tried again and then stood up. ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘It’s broken.’

‘Right,’ said Dan, pacing. ‘OK. The chip fryer’s broken.’ He looked at Katie.

‘That’s important, but not urgent, so I’ll call the repairers after I’ve called the freezer guys,’ she said, looking at the fridge door. ‘Their number should be up here.’

‘I’ll just keep on cooking till then, right?’ asked Nik.

‘Yes,’ said Katie and Dan at the same time.

‘Yes,’ said Dan. ‘Carry on cooking while Katie makes the calls and the rest of us just get on as normal.’ He looked up at the monitor and saw four people waiting to be served. ‘No,’ he said, ‘scrap that. I’ll make the calls, Katie and Sukie serve the customers as usual and don’t let on anything’s up. For God’s sake don’t be polite or they’ll rumble us.’

‘Dan, what shall I do?’ asked Patsy.

‘Um,’ Dan was at a loss. ‘What do you normally do?’

‘Um,’ Patsy was at a loss. ‘Um . . .’

‘Help anyone who asks you,’ said Dan. ‘You can be the general sous.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You’re under whoever asks you.’

There was much laughter at this which, credit to Patsy, she took very well as soon they’d explained it.

Katie and Dan spent the rest of the day phoning up the repairer and manufacturer on the hour every hour, which was why it only took until 3 p.m. for them to come and fix the problems, and by 4 p.m., Crichton Brown’s Café/Bar/Restaurant had a fully functioning kitchen again.

At the end of the day, when Crichton Brown’s had closed and the rest of the staff had gone, Katie and Dan sat down together and counted the day’s takings. Then they counted again. They dared smile at each other and, without a word, Dan went to the wine bottles and took out a good chardonnay.

‘Dan!’ she protested, laughing.

‘We bloody deserve it,’ he said, finding the corkscrew. ‘And we can afford it.’ The bottle uncorked and they both laughed. He came over, sat down opposite her, poured out two glasses and handed her one. They grinned again and clinked glasses.

‘To us!’ he toasted.

She only hesitated for a second. ‘To us.’

‘One hell of a team.’

‘One hell of a team.’

They both drank down too much wine. Then he held up his glass again.

‘To Katie Simmonds.’ She laughed. He held up his
hand
to stop her. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you,’ he said, softer. ‘And I’m sorry for being an idiot the other day.’

She pretended not to be as touched as she was. ‘It’s all right. And you’d have coped,’ she smiled.

‘I wouldn’t,’ he contradicted. ‘And I’d have had a bloody heart attack trying.’

‘Well, it is my job.’

He nodded and lifted his glass in the air again. ‘A toast! Thank God for Katie’s job!’

‘I’ll drink to that!’

There was a little lull and Katie asked if now was a good time to make some suggestions.

‘Always working,’ murmured Dan, a lazy smile on his lips. ‘Always working.’

She started by suggesting her mother’s unique recipe, a delicious frittata – a special Spanish omelette – that she had learnt how to make before she was out of ankle-socks. She didn’t know anywhere else where it was done and felt it would satisfy both healthy eaters and pie lovers. Then she decided to broach two subjects that had been concerning her: Nik was having trouble keeping up with the demands of a bustling Café/Bar/Restaurant now that the clientele had grown so significantly, so couldn’t be asked to do more, but she felt that the place had an obvious gap in its repertoire.

‘Nik’s so busy, so is there enough money to find some local cook – maybe a stay-at-home mum – and ask her to make us two, maybe three, choice desserts throughout the week? Each slice will get us back more than the entire ingredients.’

Dan nodded thoughtfully. ‘Good idea. I’ll put an advert in the local press and see if anyone fits the bill.’

‘The local council has a free magazine that’s a lifeline for mums in this area. I could see about putting an advert in there.’

‘Brilliant.’

‘And . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘It might be nice if there was room for customers to sit outside, especially with summer coming. But you know how mad the English are, they’d even sit out there in the winter. We can look into finding out if we need a licence.’

Dan looked unimpressed. ‘We haven’t got enough room have we?’

She shrugged. ‘There’s enough for two tables, that’s all you’d need. You’ll get more money and it will show passers-by that there’s a café here. Just an idea.’

Dan nodded slowly. ‘Hmm. I’ll talk to Paul.’

Katie forced herself not to push it further. Instead she changed tack and asked how Paul was. Dan gave her a vague reply and she gave him a vague nod in return.