‘That’s wonderful dear.’ Margery poured boiling water into the pot and pulled an ancient, stained tea-cosy over the top. ‘I think I know the place.’
‘Aha! Just what I need.’ Helena said, spotting Margery’s old-fashioned weighing scales in the corner cupboard. She remembered saving them during their clear out, despite Margery saying she never used them. ‘At least it’ll get some money coming in.’
‘So, what’s all this for?’ Margery asked as she came over to inspect Helena’s shopping.
‘I’m going to bake you and Johnny a cake, to thank you for being so kind to me.’
‘How delicious! I didn’t know you could bake?’
‘It’s my greatest passion in life,’ Helena laughed. ‘I haven’t been able to do it for years. I hope I haven’t lost the knack.’
‘Why on earth not?’ Margery frowned.
‘Noah wouldn’t let me.’
‘Let you?’ Margery’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Honestly, he just gets worse and worse.’
Helena chided herself for feeling protective of him. Margery wasright. She didn’t need to defend him anymore. ‘He was a bit of a control freak,’ she admitted.
‘You’re telling me! Baking is hardly a crime?’
Helena paused. It felt embarrassing to admit it, but she needed to be honest about their relationship. ‘It was too calorific for him, and he didn’t want me eating sugar either, in case I got fat.’
‘For Christ’s sake, life is too short for that kind of nonsense.’ Margery looked appalled.
Helena couldn’t help but laugh at the indignant expression on her face. ‘I couldn’t agree more. And that is precisely why I am determined to start baking again. I used to dream of it when I was with him. And now no one is going to stop me.’
‘No, dear. You can be sure of that,’ Margery winked. ‘Do you want a hand?’
‘You go and put your feet up and do your crossword. I’ll bring in your tea.’
Helena lost herself in the rhythm of baking, of weighing and mixing, whipping and spreading. She didn’t need a recipe; she had made this cake a thousand times. An hour and a half of pure bliss later, a beautiful fluffy golden sponge, sprinkled with icing sugar and filled with a thick layer of raspberry jam and whipped cream stood in pride of place on the kitchen table. She sighed happily to herself. Later, as she, Margery and Johnny shared slices of cake and cups of tea around a roaring fire that Johnny had made from logs he had chopped himself that afternoon, she felt for the first time in a long time like she could see a glimmer of the old Helena beginning to reappear.
25
UP EARLY THEnext morning and freshly showered, this time without any bathroom collisions, Helena pulled on black trousers, a T-shirt and a grey jumper. She brushed her hair and tied it back into a ponytail. She felt flushed with back-to-school nerves, determined to keep herself in the moment. When her thoughts tried to suck her back into the spiralling misery that had consumed her in the past month, she wrenched her attention back to the present. There was no use living in the past. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life living and reliving the years she had spent with Noah and Raffy in minute detail in her mind. As hard as it might be to stop herself slipping into thought, she knew that that way madness lay. It was a particularly cruel form of self-torture, obsessively combing through memories of a reality that was no longer an option for her. These past weeks, the days had seeped into night, night into day, without her really being aware of the passing of time. She had been living in a trancelike state. The prospect of work had given her days a sense of purpose again, no matter how tiny, and she was clinging to it as though her life depended on it.
Helena drove to the café, trying to maintain her new resolution, noticing when she became submerged in thought and trying to pull herself back, to look around herself and see. As she waited at a red light, a squirrel darted up a tree on the side of the road, stopping to glance over its shoulder as if worried it was being followed. At the crossing, an old lady, bent double with arthritis, pulled her shopping trolley along with one hand, the other clutching her small leather handbag against the side of her plaid coat. Helena’s heart went out to her. She wondered if she lived alone, like Margery haddone for so many years. It was a sad fact of the times, that so many people lived by themselves with little or no family around them. Even village life, once so vibrant, was now so different. Everyone kept themselves to themselves. As she drove, she looked around her, people who were walking past mostly had their phones in their hands, their gaze fixed upon the screen. Others had headphones in, lost in whatever it was they were listening to. There was no eye contact, no friendly good mornings. It was sad how solitary society had become.
She parked near the café. The words, Coffee Stop, were printed in black letters above the door. She checked the time, it was 7.25 a.m. She was five minutes early. Ahmed was already there. She pushed open the door and felt immediately put at ease as she was greeted with a cheerful ‘Morning!’. As he continued setting up for the day, he talked through what he was doing, answering her many questions with patience and good humour. At eight o’clock he turned the closed sign to open, and customers began to drift in for their morning caffeine and some breakfast. Helena watched closely as he dealt with customers, made their drinks and operated the till. In quieter moments he showed her how to make the coffee. There was a lot to remember. The different quantities of espresso to foam to milk, how to steam the milk without making bubbles. She burned quite a few of her first attempts before getting the hang of it, reassured that Ahmed saw potential in her barista skills. She scribbled notes on her pad, glad that she would be learning alongside him and not plunged into running the shop solo any time soon. He explained that he would work the first few days with her, but that eventually the aim was for him to be able to leave her in charge while he popped out, that they could tag team their lunch breaks and so on.
It was much busier than she thought it would be, which was good. It gave her less time to think. There were periods where it was almost empty followed by lengthy busy spells. Ahmed explained that the peak times were usually first thing, lunch and teatime. A mixture of people grabbing coffee before heading off towork, local mums meeting up or getting out of the house with their kids and those coming after school pick-up.
The day flew by, with so much to learn in such a short space of time. She suddenly found herself turning the sign back around and locking the door as the clock struck five. Then the big clean-up operation started: wiping down tables, mopping the floor, cleaning the work surfaces and the glass, taking the coffee machine apart, cleaning the bathroom. By the time they had turned the lights out and locked up Helena was completely exhausted, but in a good way.
She zipped up her coat. ‘Thanks for today, Helena,’ Ahmed said. ‘You were great.’
‘I enjoyed it.’
‘I’d like to offer you the job, if you’re still interested?’
Helena’s heart leapt into her throat. ‘Oh thank you Ahmed!’ She bit back tears.
‘Same time tomorrow?’
‘Fantastic.’ Helena smiled, more grateful than he could possibly know to finally be in gainful employment.
‘You’ll be paid at the end of each month, with tips on top. It’s shut Sunday so you’ll always have those off, and my niece is going to do Saturdays so that’ll be covered too for the most part. So it’ll be Monday to Friday as the norm, but I may ask you to come in on the odd Saturday if I need help, depending on your availability of course.’
