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He leads us through the kitchen to the back door, which he holds open for us, and locks carefully once we’re all through. We walk down a short corridor to the external door, which opens out into the sunshine. There are two parking spaces behind the café. One is occupied by a very dusty-looking car, presumably Fred’s, and the other by a Transit van that has definitely seen better days. I don’t know how old it is, but the paintwork is faded and I can see several places where the rust has broken through. The driver’s door creaks ominously as Matt tugs it open, and I consider my predicament. I’d rather eat my own fist than travel even a hundred yards in a death trap like Matt’s van, but I’ve stupidly already accepted not just a lift into town today, but a journey to the cash and carry tomorrow. My anxiety levels rise even higher as I open the passenger side door and realise that there are no airbags in front of Katie’s and my seats. Matt obviously senses my reticence as he smiles.
‘Don’t worry. I know it’s past its prime, but it’s never let me down yet.’ To prove his point, he twists the key and the engine bursts into life with a deafening clatter. A small cloud of black smoke billows from the exhaust and blows away in the breeze. Oh, God, I don’t think I can do this.
‘It’s only up the road, it’ll be fine,’ Katie whispers in my ear. ‘Just get in.’
It takes all my courage to scramble into the middle seat of the van, and I’m shaking with nerves as I try to fasten the lap belt. Matt takes pity on me and helps me to get it into the socket. I squeeze my hands together tightly and try to focus on Katie’s words. Rationally, I know she’s right. The chances of anything happening to us during a five-minute journey in a thirty limit are tiny. That doesn’t stop my heart pounding or my palms sweating furiously, though.
Matt reverses the van expertly out of its space and appears thankfully oblivious to my mounting panic as he navigates his way up the hill to the main part of the town. The journey literally takes a couple of minutes, but I feel like I’ve aged ten years by the time he pulls in opposite Lloyds Bank.
‘I’ll go and fill the can up and meet you at the solicitors’ office,’ he says as we clamber out. ‘Which one is it?’
‘Moorhouse & Edgerley,’ I tell him.
‘Oh, yes, I know it. See you in a bit.’ He roars off, leaving another plume of black smoke behind, and we hurry into the bank. There’s no queue at this time of the day, so I go straight up to the counter. Once I’ve explained why I’m there, the whole process is remarkably efficient. I still have the ID in my bag that I took to show Jonathan, so it only takes a few minutes to fill in the remaining forms. The cashier assures me that everything is now in place.
‘One final thing,’ I ask her. ‘How easy would it be to get a card machine for the café?’
She takes me through the terms and conditions, including the transaction costs, and then helps me fill in the order form. Apparently, the machine should arrive within the week. By the time we’ve finished, the bank has shut and they have to open the door to let us out. Katie and I half run to the Moorhouse & Edgerley offices, arriving with five minutes to spare.
‘Mr Moorhouse has left everything you need here,’ the receptionist informs me in her cut-glass accent. ‘If you have any issues tomorrow, he asks that you contact him directly, and he will do his best to resolve them for you. He asked me to wish you the best of luck on his behalf.’ She smiles.
‘That’s very kind of him. Please thank him for me.’
Matt is waiting for us as we come out of the solicitors and, once again, I force myself to face my fears as he runs us back down the hill and parks up behind the café. He pulls a dirty-looking green fuel container from the back of the van and sets it down next to Fred’s car.
‘I’ll just grab the keys from the flat. Then we can put this in and you’ll be all set. Did you want to come up, or are you happy waiting out here?’
Katie and I agree to wait outside and he disappears back through the door, reappearing a couple of minutes later with the keys. He unlocks Fred’s car, removes the filler cap, and pours the contents of the can into the fuel tank.
‘There you go,’ he says, once he’s finished and the filler cap is back in place. ‘It’s only a gallon, but it will be enough to get you to a petrol station. If you turn left once you hit the main road, there’s one a few hundred yards along. One more thing before you go. I’ve written down my phone number in case you need to get hold of me for any reason. It’s probably easier than ringing the café landline and negotiating your way around Rita. Also, if you need to get hold of me out of hours, then this is the best number.’
He hands me a piece of paper with his mobile number on, and I plug it into my phone. I then send him a text to confirm I’ve done it right, which gives him my number in return. We agree that I’ll call him as soon as I’m finished with the accountants tomorrow, and Katie and I climb into Fred’s car. Matt tactfully retreats back into his flat, leaving me to try to work out the controls of the Micra without an audience.
‘He’s really nice, isn’t he?’ Katie remarks, as I locate reverse gear and carefully back the car out of the space. The windscreen is absolutely filthy, and it takes me a moment or two to locate the button for the washer, so I don’t reply immediately. Katie takes my silence as an invitation to continue.
‘I mean, Rita’s a complete bitch, but I liked both Matt and Bronwyn. Matt, in particular, seems to really care about the place, and he went above and beyond to help us out, didn’t he?’
‘Mmm,’ I reply. I don’t disagree with her at all, but I’m concentrating on trying to get the feel of the clutch, brakes and accelerator in the Micra, all of which feel very different from my car. The last thing I want is to stall it or end up bunny-hopping down the road. I wait for a much bigger gap than usual before pulling out and setting off. Matt was right, the needle is registering that there’s fuel in there at least, but the warning light is still on, so we pull into the garage and I fill it up. I notice that there’s a car wash on site, so I buy a token for that while I’m paying for the fuel. After a bit of delicate manoeuvring to get us from the pump into the car wash, Katie and I sit back as the brushes set about removing all the dirt, bird shit, and dust, revealing smart-looking, dark-blue paintwork.
‘So, what did you think of them?’ Katie pushes.
‘Matt was helpful, I agree, although I have got to find an excuse not to go in that van again. I thought I was going to have a heart attack! There’s no way I can travel all the way to the cash and carry and back in it.’
‘Where is the cash and carry, do you know?’
‘No idea but, wherever it is, it’s too far to go in that death trap.’
‘Do you think,’ she lowers her voice and adopts a soothing tone, ‘you might be over-reacting, just a little? I know Mum and Dad’s car was a complete banger, but that doesn’t mean that every clapped-out car or van is going to end up in a big accident.’
‘I know you’re right, Katie, but I can’t help myself. I just didn’t feel safe.’
‘Maybe you should go with him tomorrow. De-sensitise yourself a bit, you know?’
‘Oh, shut up and work out how to get us home!’ I retort, handing her my phone.
While she fiddles with the navigation app, I reflect on the meeting this afternoon. She’s right, both Matt and Bronwyn are really nice, and Matt is surprisingly passionate about the café. Our decision just became a whole lot more difficult.
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