‘I’ll get a black one for next week,’ said Sukhvinder, unable to look Howard in the eye.
‘Fine,’ he said, patting Gaia in the small of her back as he sent the pair of them through to the café. ‘Brace yourselves,’ he called to his staff at large. ‘We’re nearly there… doors open, please, Maureen!’
There was already a little knot of customers waiting on the pavement. A sign outside read:
Andrew did not see Gaia again for hours. Howard kept him busy heaving milk and fruit juices up and down the steep cellar steps, and swabbing the floor of the small kitchen area at the back. He was given a lunch break earlier than either of the waitresses. The next glimpse he got of her was when Howard summoned him to the counter of the café, and they passed within inches of each other as she walked in the other direction, towards the back room.
‘We’re swamped, Mr Price!’ said Howard, in high good humour. ‘Get yourself a clean apron and mop down some of these tables for me while Gaia has her lunch!’
Miles and Samantha Mollison had sat down with their two daughters and Shirley at a table in the window.
‘It seems to be going awfully well, doesn’t it?’ Shirley said, looking around. ‘But what on earth is that Jawanda girl wearing under her dress?’
‘Bandages?’ suggested Miles, squinting across the room.
‘Hi, Sukhvinder!’ called Lexie, who knew her from primary school.
‘Don’t shout, darling,’ Shirley reproved her granddaughter, and Samantha bristled.
Maureen emerged from behind the counter in her short black dress and frilly apron, and Shirley corpsed into her coffee.
‘Oh dear,’ she said quietly, as Maureen walked towards them, beaming.
It was true, Samantha thought, Maureen looked ridiculous, especially next to a pair of sixteen-year-olds in identical dresses, but she was not going to give Shirley the satisfaction of agreeing with her. She turned ostentatiously away, watching the boy mopping tables nearby. He was spare but reasonably broad-shouldered. She could see his muscles working under the loose T-shirt. Incredible to think that Miles’ big fat backside could ever have been that small and tight — then the boy turned into the light and she saw his acne.
‘Not half bad, is it?’ Maureen was croaking to Miles. ‘We’ve been full all day.’
‘All right, girls,’ Miles addressed his family, ‘what’ll we have to keep up Grandpa’s profits?’
Samantha listlessly ordered a bowl of soup, as Howard waddled through from the delicatessen; he had been striding in and out of the café every ten minutes all day, greeting customers and checking the flow of cash into the till.
‘Roaring success,’ he told Miles, squeezing in at their table. ‘What d’you think of the place, Sammy? You haven’t seen it before, have you? Like the mural? Like the china?’
‘Mm,’ said Samantha. ‘Lovely.’
‘I was thinking about having my sixty-fifth here,’ said Howard, absent-mindedly scratching at the itch Parminder’s creams had not yet cured, ‘but it’s not big enough. I think we’ll stick with the church hall.’
‘When’s that, Grandpa?’ piped up Lexie. ‘Am I coming?’
‘Twenty-ninth, and what are you now — sixteen? Course you can come,’ said Howard happily.
‘The twenty-ninth?’ said Samantha. ‘Oh, but…’
Shirley looked at her sharply.
‘Howard’s been planning this for months. We’ve all been talking about it for ages.’
‘…that’s the night of Libby’s concert,’ said Samantha.
‘A school thing, is it?’ asked Howard.
‘No,’ said Libby, ‘Mum’s got me tickets for my favourite group. It’s in London.’
‘And I’m going with her,’ said Samantha. ‘She can’t go alone.’
‘Harriet’s mum says she could—’
‘
‘The twenty-ninth?’ said Miles, looking hard at Samantha. ‘The day after the election?’
Samantha let loose the derisive laugh that she had spared Maureen.
‘It’s the Parish Council, Miles. It’s not as though you’ll be giving press conferences.’
‘Well, we’ll miss you, Sammy,’ said Howard, as he hauled himself up with the aid of the back of her chair. ‘Best get on… all right, Andrew, you’re done here… go and see if we need anything up from the cellar.’
Andrew was forced to wait beside the counter while people passed to and from the bathroom. Maureen was loading up Sukhvinder with plates of sandwiches.
‘How’s your mother?’ she asked the girl abruptly, as though the thought had just occurred to her.
‘Fine,’ said Sukhvinder, her colour rising.
‘Not too upset by that nasty business on the council website?’
‘No,’ said Sukhvinder, her eyes watering.
Andrew proceeded out into the dank yard, which, in the early afternoon, had become warm and sunny. He had hoped that Gaia might be there, taking a breath of fresh air, but she must have gone into the staff room in the deli. Disappointed, he lit up a cigarette. He had barely inhaled when Gaia emerged from the café, finishing her lunch with a can of fizzy drink.
‘Hi,’ said Andrew, his mouth dry.
