The Waitress (12 page)

‘Ubum Dan,’ whispered Katie.

‘Act normal,’ whispered Jon.

‘Ug, hide.’

‘Let us do the talking,’ whispered Sukie.

‘Egg,’ whispered Katie.

Dan spotted them. They all smiled in greeting, Dan and Katie looking at everyone else but each other.

‘Oh my God!’ cried out Geraldine shrilly. ‘How funny! Oh my God. We were just . . .’ she turned to Dan and turned quickly away again. ‘Isn’t this hilarious?’ She shrieked with hysteria.

‘Somebody stop that noise,’ murmured Katie.

‘Did you enjoy the party?’ Geraldine asked Jon and Sukie, as if her life depended on it.

They nodded. ‘Yes thanks,’ said Jon keenly. ‘Nice kitchen.’

There was a pause.

‘Yes, well,’ said Geraldine. ‘I’ve been invited for a “coffee” back at Dan’s place – say no more.’ She winked at them. ‘Whoops!’ said Geraldine suddenly, looking
cheekily
at Dan. ‘I haven’t given anything away, have I?’

‘I doubt it,’ said Dan quietly.

‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Geraldine. ‘It’s probably impossible to hide, isn’t it?’

There was more silence.

‘Right,’ said Jon. ‘See you around then.’ And they made their goodbyes.

As soon as they turned the corner, Katie stopped.

‘Do you think all they’re going to do is have coffee?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘Yes, of course.’

Katie stared in front of her sadly.

‘I’m not going to phone him any more am I, Sukie?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

Katie started sobbing silently, while Sukie rubbed her back.

‘I’ve ruined my life,’ she whimpered.

‘No you haven’t.’

‘I’m going to kill Geraldine.’

‘No you’re not.’

‘You’re right. I’ll hire someone.’

‘No you won’t.’

‘I hate myself.’

‘No you don’t.’

‘I have a shit, dead-end job.’

There was another pause.

‘Yes,’ said Sukie, ‘but you’re going to be made redundant.’

Katie started crying again.

‘Let’s get you home,’ said Jon.

The next day, a rather important lunch-time meeting had been arranged between three men in a large chain restaurant just south of Porter’s Green. Two young men sat in the dark corner waiting for their meeting to start.

The restaurant was practically empty at this time of day, its extensive menu, expensive lighting and exquisite-looking staff an empty stage in front of an echoing auditorium. A waitress appeared from a recess in her uniform of long white apron, black trousers, white shirt, black tie and surly expression. She took their order without a glimmer of humanity and left them alone again. They glanced at each other and shared a moment of mutual understanding.

Eventually, they took out their copies of the accounts for one last look before the meeting began.

‘I’ll leave all the talking to you,’ said the shorter, fairer of the two men, whose face even in this dim light, resembled an anxious mule.

‘You sure?’ asked the other.

‘Yeah yeah. This is your baby.’

‘Hardly. You’ve been there much more than me. I’ve only seen the place once and that was at the weekend.’

‘That’s only while you’ve been training your replacement,’ said the mule. ‘I won’t be able to pop in at all once the partnership’s up for grabs and the bonuses get underway. As long as you know you’ll be doing it mostly on your own after that.’

‘Of course, as agreed,’ nodded the taller, darker man. ‘I’m just grateful you trust in me enough to help with this investment.’

The mule smiled. ‘I trust you like a brother. And believe
me
, you’re definitely primary carer.’ He lifted his coffee cup.

‘All right, but you’re the donor father.’ They clinked cups. ‘You still have rights.’

‘Yeah, well. I hereby call on my right to let you do all the talking.’

‘OK, if you’re sure.’

‘I am.’

Bang on time, ten minutes later, another man entered the restaurant. Had anyone cared enough to observe him, with his body-built shoulders packed into a costly overcoat, his year-round tan and signet ring consciously donned to play the part, they might have guessed he was part of the local Mafia.

He approached the men in the corner, greeted them with the single word ‘Boys’, and shook hands firmly with them, his jaw clenching on his chewing gum at each downward shake. He called the waitress ‘darling’, pulled his trousers at the thigh before sitting down, stroked his tie, flashed his teeth and began.

‘Right, well,’ he said, rubbing his hands. ‘It’s good news all round. I got the call first thing this morning. As you know, you are one of the few who’ve been asked to put in an offer.’

The two men grinned stupidly, and the man immediately raised his hand, like a policeman halting traffic.

‘But let’s not get carried away.’ A shadow appeared at his right shoulder. He looked up at the waitress as she placed his espresso on the table. ‘Thanks, darling,’ he said softly. She turned to go. ‘Er!’ he called out. She stopped and executed a slow 180-degree turn. He stared at the table, his hand still up.

‘Some sugar please, good girl.’

She barely registered that she’d heard him, before turning away again. He delicately put the tip of his index finger against his mouth, as if deep in thought. The men waited in silence. Then the waitress appeared again out of the shadows, placed the sugar quietly down beside the coffee and disappeared again. The man nodded slowly and took his finger away from his lips. He tore open the packets and added two sugars, stirring thoughtfully, then tapped the spoon several times on the edge of his cup, straightened his tie and took a sip, pinkie out. He looked at the men.

‘Where was I?’

‘We mustn’t get carried away,’ repeated the nominated speaker.

The man nodded slowly, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. He placed the cup back in the saucer, signet ring flashing.

‘In the end, only two other people have been asked.’ The men raised their eyebrows in surprise. He nodded again. ‘I know. After all that fuss, only two. One is a rival from this neck of the woods, owns that new French café up the road, and he’s trying to start a small, local chain. The other is a very big chain.’

The men both grimaced.

‘Now, now. Don’t give up on me. I think we’re in with a chance.’

‘How come?’

‘I’ll tell you for why. Because of one, very important, very big factor, which we must at no cost, underestimate the importance of.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The cause of many men’s downfall.’ A dramatic pause. ‘Pride.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Doesn’t always serve our cause, in fact in some cases, it is the very scourge of our entire business, but in this case, I think it might be just what we need.’

‘How come?’

‘Well, let me explain.’ He pondered his explanation for a moment before speaking. ‘This guy,’ he said slowly to his rapt audience, ‘is a moron.’

The two men grinned.

‘This man,’ he continued, ‘could not find his own arse in a blackout. And that is no small arse.’ The men grinned again. ‘The truth of the matter is,’ went on the man, ‘that he has basically made a mess of his business. As you yourselves have pointed out, he has consistently failed to make key improvements to it and failed to jump at the market’s movements. Which is why his accounts are so shit and you two shmucks, excuse my French, can afford to buy him out.’

The two men nodded. This much they knew.

‘But,’ the man leant forward in his chair, ‘history has shown us over the years that having the brain of a dishcloth does not stop someone from being proud. He is, in fact, your dream come true. A proud shmuck. Excuse my French.’

Another pause.

‘Sorry, I don’t understand,’ said the appointed speaker, finally.

‘What I’m trying to say, in plain English, is that this is a man who will not, to my mind, want to sell his business –
his
failing, pathetic business – to any chain, particularly – particularly – to a growing, local one.’

‘You think –’

‘Unless,’ he interrupted, ‘unless they make it impossible – even for a moron like him – to say no.’

‘Right.’

‘Which means we have to think very, very hard about our offer. It can’t be too low, it can’t be too high –’

‘Well, it really can’t be too high –’

‘I know, I know. You have a “ceiling”. But,’ the man sat forward. ‘I want you to do something for me.’ More nods. ‘For us.’ He eyed them under short, thick, straight eyelashes. ‘You think you can do that?’

They nodded.

‘Here’s what I want you to do. Two things. One’ (he held up a short finger) ‘– I want you to re-think your ceiling and, Two’ (he held up two short fingers) ‘– I want you to have a meeting with this guy, quick. Before the others get in there.’ He let this sink in for a moment. ‘You see, the truth is, he’s impatient. He wants to get out fast. The others may have the money and the know-how, but you two have the one thing that may swing it – the personal factor. You’ve got good faces. Not my type if you get my drift, but it works for him. You’re polite, you’re clean, you’re keen. So! Keep yourselves in the picture. And move fast.’ He let the pause linger for a moment. ‘Meanwhile,’ he cut in, when it looked dangerously like his silence might be interrupted, ‘let me remind you that businesses like this do not grow on trees. Especially in an area like this.’ He spoke over their nodding, ‘and I would hate for you two to miss out on this opportunity just
because
the chain has more money than it knows what to do with.’

The estate agent had finished. He drained his coffee. He looked at his watch.

‘Right,’ he said, standing up. ‘And now I must love you and leave you.’

The two men stood up too and shook his hand and watched him put on his coat and saunter out of the restaurant. Then the shorter, fairer of the two turned to his partner, his mule-like face now registering some concern. ‘Shit.’

‘Yeah.’

‘What shall we do?’

‘I haven’t got time to go to the café now,’ said his taller friend. ‘I’ll pop into the bank on my way back to the office. You’ll have to go to the café.’

‘Right,’ said Mule. ‘What’s your plan of action at the bank?’

‘I thought I’d beg.’

‘Excellent.’

‘What are you going to do at the café?’

Mule scratched his head. ‘Be charming.’

‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks.’

Meanwhile, Katie, Matt and Sukie were having an emergency meeting. Sukie had important news to impart. They all knew that Alec had a soft spot for Sukie. Most men did: there was not one straight line on Sukie’s body. There had been a stage a while back, when Alec had pestered her – not sexually, he was far too big a coward for something
like
that, but just for inane pleasantries. A nice smile from her, the odd bit of physical contact; that was enough for him – and now, as his parting shot, instead of a fumbling grope at a farewell party, he had given her a handy hint. He had asked her, in a cosy little chat on their own in the kitchen, if she wanted to keep her job. When she’d told him that she did, but only if her friends kept theirs too, he had replied that all everyone had to do was treat him with respect, especially when he was with potential buyers, and he’d put in a good word for his staff.

They took this in.

‘I don’t think I can do it,’ said Katie.

‘Of course you can,’ said Sukie.

‘I’m too young to lose my ideals,’ said Matt.

‘And I’m too beautiful,’ added Katie.

Sukie sighed. ‘Don’t say I didn’t try to help you both,’ she warned and went to get on with her work.

They exchanged grim glances. The sobering truth was that it had taken the possibility of them losing their jobs to realise just how much they wanted them. There was only one thing worse than having a shit job and that was losing it, so Matt and Katie promised to help each other in pretending to respect Alec. Luckily he was hardly in all day and Katie discovered that it was far easier to respect Alec if a) he wasn’t there and b) she could disrespect everyone else – and anyway, she was having fun being rude to all the customers. It was a new perk. By that afternoon, after two full hours of being respectful to Alec while he was there, she was nearly at bursting point. She needed to be rude, and fast. So when a regular came in with a friend, she was ready for action.

‘Don’t you have a home to go to?’ she demanded as soon as the regular got near.

The woman gave a brave smile. ‘I thought you could do with the custom.’

Katie opened her eyes wide in mock astonishment. ‘Bloomin’ cheek!’ She turned to the friend. ‘Is she always like this?’

The friend smiled. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘She’s mad, her.’

‘You see?’ the regular grinned, ‘I told you it was hysterical in here.’

Blimey, thought Katie. You should get out more. She started making the regular her favourite drink and told them to sit down and behave while she got them a menu.

Just then, the sound of a strangled cat announced a new customer. Everyone looked round as a young man came warily in. He carried a leather portfolio under one arm. Katie watched him walk slowly towards her and wondered where on earth she’d seen him before. He looked strangely familiar, in an almost bovine way, and yet she was fairly sure she’d never talked to him. He must be an actor. That was happening more and more nowadays. The area was up and coming, so up-and-coming actors loved it. But because it hadn’t quite arrived yet, it was only actors with bit parts on
Casualty
or
Holby City
. It meant she kept bumping into people she was sure she knew from somewhere but for the life of her couldn’t place.

He was still looking vaguely round him.

‘Are you lost?’ she asked.

‘Pardon?’ asked the man, giving her a quick shy glance, as if from behind a veil.

‘You look lost.’

‘This is The Café, isn’t it?’

‘I’m afraid it is.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because it is.’

The man looked puzzled.

A commuter chose this minute to arrive.

‘What time do you call this?’ asked Katie, looking at her watch.

The commuter smiled. ‘Day off.’