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As I drive home, a long hot bath firmly on my mind, I reflect on the day. Bronwyn was a lot of fun to work with, and she and Matt make a good team. It’s just a shame about Rita; what on earth am I going to do about her? I’ve also taken a copy of the menu, so I can work on the spelling mistakes and also give some thought to how we can improve it.
An unwelcome realisation dawns on me as I pull up on the driveway. This bloody café is starting to get under my skin.
16
I resolve to stay away from the café for the rest of the week, partly because I do actually need to try to relax a bit before I go back to work, and partly because I don’t want to get any more attached to it than I already am. I deliberately park in the public car park when I return to Sevenoaks for my meeting with the financial adviser, even though I know I could save a fortune by parking behind the café. It’s probably for the best. If I went down there and found that Rita had parked there again, there’s a good chance I’d slap her.
The meeting with the financial adviser goes well; I can see why Jonathan recommended her. She’s done her homework and, in the end, we agree that I’ll hang on to £50,000 as ‘petty cash’, so I can make improvements to the café and flats, and the rest will be invested in various funds, thus ensuring that any risk is nicely spread out.
Nan and Grandad have very kindly offered to help me with clearing out Fred’s flat, and I’ve ordered a skip to be delivered next week. It’s going to be hard work, and part of me still thinks getting a house clearance firm in would be a lot less hassle, but I can’t risk anything important being thrown away. I’ve had a flick through Nora’s recipe folder, and a lot of the recipes sound absolutely delicious. I can see why the café used to be so popular, if she was churning out food like that. How sad she’d be to see the state it’s in now.
It’s a fairly normal afternoon at home. Nan is settled in her armchair, working her way through the recipe folder. Every so often, she sucks her teeth and mutters things like ‘my, that is a lot of butter’, but I notice she’s also earmarking a few recipes to try out. Grandad is watching the cricket on TV, and Katie is reading a thriller with her legs tucked up underneath her. Normally, I’d be reading a magazine or something, but instead I’m trying very hard not to think about the café and failing miserably.
Katie raises her eyes from her book and I’m aware of her studying me.
‘What’s on your mind?’ she asks.
‘I was just thinking how sad Nora would be to see the state her café is in,’ I reply.
‘Do you think Fred resented her for it? Let it go downhill deliberately, to punish her?’ Nan joins in, lifting her eyes briefly from the recipe folder.
‘It’s an interesting theory. I wondered whether he felt he had to keep it going in her memory, but lost interest in it, particularly when the profits started to fall. I guess we’ll never know for sure.’
‘You seem a bit more positive about the place since you did your shift there yesterday,’ Katie continues. ‘What’s your current thinking?’
‘I really don’t know. It felt so different yesterday, with Bronwyn there instead of Rita. Yes, it was still run down, but at least we were serving half-decent coffee, and bacon rolls with visible bacon in them. We had a really good go at the tables too, and they’re not sticky any more. And I get what Matt means, you know? For a lot of the regulars, coming to the café is the only social contact they get all day, even if they’re just doing the crossword, like Ron. But, on the other hand, there’s no way we’re ever going to make a decent profit from people like that. Ron spent less than a fiver, but tied up a whole table for nearly an hour.’
‘I still say we sell the place as quickly as we can, if that’s any help,’ she replies.
‘Maybe you should do a shift there before you cast your vote, Katie love. It seems like it’s given Daisy quite a lot to think about,’ Nan suggests.
‘Oh, no, I don’t think that’s necessary…’
‘I think that’s an excellent idea!’ I say, cutting Katie off. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Well, I don’t have any plans, but…’
‘Why don’t I text Matt and say you’ll be in to help out, then?’
‘No, leave it. It’s too short notice. Maybe I’ll go in next week sometime.’ She’s like a fish caught on a line, wriggling furiously to try to get away. It’s payback time, and I’m loving it.
‘Why put off until next week what you can do tomorrow?’ Grandad pipes up, surprising us all, because we didn’t think he was paying any attention to the conversation.
‘Okay, fine,’ Katie huffs. ‘I’ll go in tomorrow. There’s just one thing. Someone’s either going to have to drop me at the station or take me there.’
Well done, Daisy. I patently didn’t think that one through. That’ll be another early start for me then, and so much for staying away from the place. After a couple of seconds, however, the beginnings of a plan start to form. If I’ve got to get up to get Katie to the café for 7.30 a.m., I could go on to Whitstable afterwards and surprise Paul. I feel a bit guilty about cancelling on him, and a bit of sex might be fun, even if it is of the lacklustre Paul variety. Sevenoaks is pretty close to the M25, so it shouldn’t take me much more than an hour on a Saturday. If I arrive just before nine, he’ll probably still be in bed, so I could just wriggle out of my clothes and slip in next to him. Hopefully the smell of damp won’t have got any worse, as that’s a bit of a mood killer. I’ll take some scent with me, give the place a bit of a spray.
‘Okay,’ I announce, feeling pleased with myself. ‘I’ll text Matt and tell him to expect you, and I’ll drop you off as well. I’m going to go on to Whitstable for the rest of the day, though, so you’ll have to get the train back.’
‘If you phone me to let me know when you’re arriving at Paddock Wood, I’ll pick you up,’ Grandad volunteers.
Katie looks mutinous, but nods.
* * *
Our journey to Sevenoaks in the morning is largely silent. I’m not sure whether Katie’s sulking, or whether the shock of getting up so early has rendered her speechless. I deliver her to the café, and Bronwyn promptly whisks her away to help make the teas and coffees before it opens. I originally intended to leave straightaway, but I end up accepting the offer of a coffee, ramming the unattractive hair net on while I chat with Matt. I notice the new fryer has arrived, and he’s already installed it. The old one has been relegated to a corner.
‘I’ve ordered a skip, mainly for clearing out Fred’s flat,’ I tell him. ‘You can bung the old fryer in it, if you like.’
