‘Good morning,’ the man replied. ‘What can I get for you?’
‘I’ve just seen the advertisement,’ she said, gesturing over to the window. ‘Are you still looking for help?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Are you interested?’
‘Very,’ she beamed. ‘Is there an application form I can fill out?’
The man reached down below the till and pulled out a form, passing it over to Helena. ‘Have you got any experience working in a café?’
‘Not specifically a café, but I was a waitress from the age of thirteen until my early twenties, and after that I worked in events, so I have plenty of experience.’ Helena smiled at the kind looking man. ‘I’m Helena,’ she stuck out her hand.
‘Ahmed,’ the man smiled back. His handshake was warm and firm. ‘Well you certainly sound like you’ve got some good experience, in that case. If you fill out the form and drop it back in, we can organise a trial shift and see how you get on?’
Helena felt reassured that it hadn’t been an outright no. A trial shift, that was a start. ‘What would the pay be, if you don’t mind me asking.’
‘£12.50 an hour.’ Just over minimum wage. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
‘And would you need someone to start immediately?’
‘Yes. The previous staff member has had to leave on medical grounds.’
‘Oh gosh, right. Sorry to hear that. Well, I’ll fill the form in right away.’
‘Great. Would you be interested in doing a trial day as soon as tomorrow?’
‘That would work for me.’ Helena didn’t exactly have anything in her diary.
‘Fantastic. The café opens at 8 a.m. So if you get in for around 7.30 a.m.?’
‘7.30 a.m. it is. I’ll fill the form out now.’ Helena sat down with the form and a pen from Ahmed and entered as much information as she could, pulling out her phone to search through her inbox forold addresses, her National Insurance number and her old boss’s contact details for a reference. She hoped someone still remembered her there. Having given the form back to Ahmed, she left with a cheery wave, promising she would be there bright and early the following day. There hadn’t been a single customer in the time she had been in the café, so she couldn’t imagine she would be rushed off her feet. But it was long hours, and it would provide her with some money, which was what she desperately needed.
Stepping back out on to the street, she allowed herself a small smile. That hadn’t been too hard, after all. On a roll, she knew what she needed to do next. Helena went to the shop a few doors down and picked up all the ingredients she needed to bake her favourite cake, a simple Victoria Sponge. She had been fantasising about this moment for years. Her mouth was already watering.
She drove home and unpacked the shopping bags onto the table, just as Margery came in through the front door, scolding Terry for yapping.
‘I’ve just met the new tenants of Banham Cottage,’ Margery said. ‘Terry does not appear to be a fan.’
‘Oh god, they’ve moved in already. Who are they? Are they nice?’ Helena asked, ignoring the stab of jealousy she felt in her core.
‘They seemed friendly. Their names are Darren and Demetri. They said they both work in London.’ Commuters. Helena nodded, processing this new information.
The idea of another couple in her house, sleeping in her bed, made her feel extremely uncomfortable. She had to remind herself it was no longer her house, that it never really had been, but she could hardly bear the thought.
‘Still nothing from Noah?’ Margery asked, filling the kettle up with water.
Helena felt a rush of emotion at the sound of his name. ‘Not a word.’
‘Truly? I can’t believe anyone could be so cruel…’
Helena nodded, thinking that only she knew just how cruelhe could be. ‘I know. It seems impossible, doesn’t it? As if they vanished into thin air. Or died.’ Even saying the words made her want to cry out in pain.
Margery opened a packet of ginger biscuits, helping herself to a couple before offering them to Helena. ‘Do you think he really did take Raffy back to New Zealand?’ she asked.
Helena nodded. ‘Probably. He kept talking about going back there.’
‘That poor child…’ Margery sighed.
A picture of Raffy flashed in her mind’s eye, waiting for her at school pick-up, scanning the gathered parents until he saw her, his eyes lighting up and his face splitting into a gap-toothed grin as his hand shot up to tell his teacher she was there. Tears glistened in Helena’s eyes. The visceral longing she felt was overwhelming. Dragging her attention back to Margery, she told her the news about her potential new job. ‘I’ve got a trial day tomorrow.’
