The first speaker took over again as the Happy Holiday Park logo onscreen behind him melted into an artist’s vision for the resort. ‘Complete with step-free splash park and pool, snack bar, restaurant, tennis courts…’
On they went, painting a picture of a holiday heaven on earth. William sat still and unreadable. At the end, when some of the villagers were longingly eyeing the complimentary pastries and biscuits on the table by the fireplace and others were completing their handwritten notes like there was going to be a test, the presentation leader brought his hands together in a satisfied clasp.
‘If we’re successful in our acquisition, that is what you can expect from Devon’s next big family holiday destination. Now, I think we have time for a few questions. Anyone?’
He only staggered a little when nearly every hand in the place shot up.
Knowing the whole village would be up at the Big House, Harri and Annie had taken the consultation as an opportunity to sleep in late and they’d emerged from their separate rooms all the brighter for it. While Annie showered, Harri worked on a new coffee.
‘Ta-dah!’ He proudly presented his creation as Annie appeared downstairs at ten. ‘This is my all-new smooth peanut butter and Kenyan espresso mix with almond milk over ice, topped with a whipped Devonshire double cream swirl with a dusting of cinnamon. Go on, try it.’
He didn’t look away as she drank.
‘I’d pay seven bucks for this, easy,’ she said.
Satisfied, Harri tried his drink. ‘I came up with the idea overnight.’
‘You dreamt about making coffee?’
Not quite. He’d dreamt about making coffeefor Annie. He knew that would sound weird if he told her, so he gave a laugh instead and rummaged for his tasting notes app, typing some words. ‘If the Port Talbot coffee shop wasn’t a chain with a set menu, I’d suggest this to my manager.’
‘This,’ Annie took another sip, ‘with an almond croissant would be…’ She made a chef’s kiss with her fingertips.
‘I was thinking a crumbed almond shortbread finger,’ said Harri.
Annie observed him as she drank, before saying, ‘You got a whole dream coffee shop going on in your head.’
Harri pulled a contemplative face. ‘Maybe I do.’
His manager had told him loads of times he should apply for his own franchise, run his own branch. He’d won all those barista competitions, hadn’t he? He showed up day after day for work and the novelty of improving his skills still hadn’t worn off. He hadn’t applied for so much as one other job since his Master’s graduation. He’d put it down to laziness. Or at least, that’s what his dad put it down to. Paisley hadn’t understood it at all.
‘Maybe I just like making coffees?’ he said, as though to himself.
He’d never considered his manager’s suggestion seriously, but the last few days had shown him he could make a go of it, in theory.
‘I’ve enjoyed running my own little bookshop cafe,’ he said, louder now, making Annie smile. He didn’t add that he’d loved it precisely because Annie was right next door behind the till, and he’d been driven to experimenting with his drinks menu so he could offer Annie something new to make her happy. Plus, he’d liked the freedom to serve whatever he wanted. The cafe had kept its own hours, nothing about it was dictated from a faceless team from head office like his role at the chain coffee shop. If he wanted to experiment here, he could. If he wanted to rustle up a quick batch of Welsh cakes, he’d done it. They went especially well with the single cream caffè breve he’d been convincing customers to try instead of their habitual latte. It had all felt like one long, fun game of playing shop.
‘I guess it’s easy when you don’t have to worry about overheads,’ he admitted.
All the money going through the till went straight into the Borrow-A-Bookshop Charity Trust, and his baking ingredients were subsidised by petty cash (and the occasional donated cake, like the one Jude Crawley had brought). It would be a different matter altogether if the shop’s livelihood was reliant on sales, and his salary was earned cup by cup.
Over the last few years, he’d grown used to his wages depositing in his bank account, the same amount every week. He’d chat with the customers, knew his regulars’ orders by heart, petted their dogs, learned all about their jobs and their kids. It was a nicely contained way of remaining sociable and connected, all while making money. He even liked going on the training days, up at the corporate HQ training kitchen. It was his job to learn and then demonstrate the new menus for the other staff back in branch. He looked forward to those days, now he came to think about it.
His manager, on the other hand, didn’t have nearly so much fun. He was forever grumbling about sales targets and losses and visits from Regional checking up on him. None of that appealed, but that, he figured, was the reality of running a business. Here he was only playing, risk free.
His heart fell a little now that the thought of returning to work in a few days had lodged itself in his brain, though that had just as much to do with Annie going home too.
Annie didn’t seem to be thinking about home, right this second. She had her eyes closed dreamily and was taking another approving sip, slow and smiling. An intrusive thought said he wished he could watch her like that all day.
That’s when the locked door rattled.
Jowan was behind the glass, holding up Aldous so he could look inside. William lurked behind them.
‘The workers have arrived,’ said Harri, snapping out of his caffeine dreams and letting them inside.
The day stayed dry and bright. The good weather brought the day-trippers out, so the shop was busy all morning.
William was more animated than the Borrowers had seen him yet. Right this second, he had his nose buried in the Chaucer from the display table.
