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“But nothing. You give your all, or you quit.”
“That’s ridiculous, just because I won’t sing your stupid crappy song.” Her cheeks turned pink and angry, but I didn’t back down. “We’ll see what Dad has to say about this,” she hissed.
I gestured to the door. “Be my guest, he’s in suite four-two-four.”
She scanned the crowd, and everyone dropped their eyes. “You’ll be sorry,” she snapped, and then she was gone, a whirlwind of self-entitlement stomping her way down the corridor, heels clacking like pistol shots.
I smiled at the rest of the candidates. “Equal footing, as I said. No exceptions.”
I took my phone from its dock, noting the message icon before I slipped it into my pocket. The room felt lighter somehow, barriers coming down.There was more eye contact, brighter smiles. Good.
All good.
“Right,” I said, changing the slide. “Let’s get started.”
Tourist season turned Much Arlock into a hiker’s haven. The cafe was rammed for the lunchtime special, people nipping in for a sandwich after a morning’s walk along the Malvern Hills. I grabbed table four’s orders from the hatch and flashed Benny a smile as he wiped his brow with a dishcloth.
My resignation letter was in my pocket, but there was a sadness to the idea of handing it in. I’d been working here since I was old enough to carry a tray without spilling it. Saturdays at first, just around school, then holidays, and now four afternoons a week. The money was crap, but the job was alright. And Benny was so bloody nice.
Slowly the lunchtime rush eased off, and I wiped down tables and waited. Eventually, Benny stuck his head around the door. “You wanted to speak?”
My stomach lurched, the letter burning me. “When you get a second.”
He beckoned me over, and my legs felt stiff as I moved. I wanted to hand in my notice, and yet I didn’t. I wanted the time, and not the safety net, not the safe little wage packet this place offered me. It would make it far too easy to bail on Carl and Rick, and I didn’t want to bail, I wanted to chase the rainbow.
I handed over the envelope and Benny’s eyes fixed on me. “You have a new job?”
I nodded. “Sorry, Benny.”
“No need for sorry,” he said. “You have a degree, all grown up. It’s time.”
His smile brought a lump to my throat. “I’ve really loved it here.”
“And here’s really loved you.” He put a hand on my arm. “You must come, for toasted teacakes, often. My treat.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
He slipped the letter in his apron pocket. “This job, with your father?”
Urgh. Another one I regretted telling. I really should get better at keeping secrets. Once it slipped out, they never fucking forgot about it.
“No,” I said. “Nothing to do with that prick.”
“Pity,” he said. “Your father knows good business.” I looked at his friendly eyes, heavy browed with grey. Benny was South African, accepted by the locals slowly over the years, until he was now a piece of the Much Arlock furniture. “Where are you leaving us for?”
I tried to recall the standard line I’d made up. “I’m helping out a designer. Cheltenham.”
“I didn’t know you were into the art.” He smiled. “A designer… yes…”
“I’m not,” I laughed. “It’s the customer facing side. I’m his… assistant…”
“Ah, yes.” He grinned. “Good.”
I felt like such a fraud. “Yes, it’s good.”
He pulled out the calendar. “You finish next week?”
“Please,” I said, and then remembered the sperm donor phone call. Another fuckingurgh. “And I’ll need Monday off, if I can. Myfatherwants to talk to me.”
