Afternoon Tea at the Sunflower Café

by Milly Johnson

  ‘They have a list of demands,’ said Ivanka, like a slimy teacher’s pet. She got up from her desk and snatched up the list from Della’s filing tray. Under other circumstances, Della would have snapped at her to get on with her work, thank you, but she reckoned it was much better that Ivanka should be the messenger who might hopefully get shot.

  Jimmy took the sheet of paper from her and unfolded it.

  ‘That’s the trouble with that lot, they don’t realise how much jam they’ve got on their teacakes,’ he said and Della seized her chance to stir up some mischief.

  ‘You’ve got Ivanka saying that now.’

  ‘What?’ he snapped.

  ‘Ivanka’s picking up all your phrases.’ Della smiled sweetly. ‘She’s started saying that some people don’t realise how much jam they’ve got on their teacakes.’

  Jimmy said nothing but his neck was mottling red, which it did when he got angry. Della knew his brain was whirring as he pinned his eyes to the paper in his hand.

  ‘Bonus . . . Employee of the Month . . . fifty pounds . . .What have they been frigging drinking?’ He laughed as he disdainfully smacked the sheet with the back of his hand. ‘Are they having a laugh? Thick bleach? String mops? Travelling allowances? Have they got me mixed up with Richard fucking Branson?’

  ‘Please don’t swear, Jimmy,’ said Ivanka. Jimmy’s head span around to her; Della’s flipped up and then travelled back and forth between him and Ivanka as if she was watching a high speed tennis match, as Ivanka realised she had carelessly spoken to him as an intimate and not as a boss.

  Jimmy looked furious. His face had grown red under his tan and the colouring on his neck gave it the appearance of corned beef.

  ‘Della, tell them all to piss off with their bloody demands,’ he said, defiantly stressing the swear words. ‘I’m going out in ten minutes. I think I might have a sandwich in the Green Man.’ He strode into his office and slammed the door behind him. He had spoken to Della, but she knew the emphasis was for the benefit of Ivanka, who she suspected might be in big trouble.

  ‘I will have an early lunch and go into the centre of town,’ said Ivanka, five minutes later. ‘The atmosphere in here is giving me a headache and I need fresh air.’

  ‘Yes, you get yourself off,’ said Della. ‘I shan’t bother going out anywhere today. I’ve brought a sandwich with me and I ought to try and defuse this situation with the girls and their demands. I don’t know where it’s suddenly come from. And God knows what is happening with Astrid and Cheryl because I can’t get either of them on the phone.’

  The door to Jimmy’s office swung open and he stood there in his beautifully smart Crombie, his expression still one of deep displeasure.

  ‘Would you be a dear and fetch me some ibuprofen?’ Della asked Ivanka. She had the stirrings of a headache herself.

  ‘Jesus Christ, don’t you be getting ill and taking time off,’ said Jimmy. ‘The whole office will fall to bits.’

  Now there was an idea, thought Della. She had never taken a day off sick in all the time she had worked for Jimmy. Maybe it was about time she did.

  ‘If I go near a chemist, I will,’ said Ivanka, somewhat begrudgingly.

  ‘I thought you were going into the town centre?’ Della couldn’t resist pointing out her little error. She really was starting to become wonderfully careless.

  Jimmy marched out of the office, but not before Della saw him flash another quick but deadly glance at Ivanka.

  Oh dear, thought Della as her office junior left, a few minutes afterwards. How she wished she could be a fly on the wall of the Green Man for the next hour; because if Ivanka was going into the town centre for some fresh air, she was Princess Anne.

  Chapter 38

  Mr Price was as nice a gentleman as Astrid had said he was, thank goodness. Astrid rang Cheryl on her mobile just after twelve o’clock to tell her that Mr Morgan wouldn’t be giving her any more trouble if he knew what was good for him. Then Della’s number showed on the screen, but she didn’t dare pick up the phone. Della left her an annoyed voicemail message asking why Astrid had been to Mr Morgan’s to clean and why Mr Morgan had rung the office talking like Orville the duck and calling Astrid a psycho. Cheryl didn’t ring back.

  She had a free afternoon because Mrs Hopkinson had visitors and didn’t want a clean that week, which meant her money would be down considerably, especially as she wasn’t going to Edith’s the next day either. Cheryl wanted to ring her again to check on her but was afraid that Lance would answer and complain about her to Della and she was already in trouble with the Mr Morgan thing. She decided to kill two birds with one stone that afternoon – take Gary’s things over to his mum’s house and ask the taxi driver if he’d make a detour past Brambles to check that all looked well, at least from the outside. She cared about Edith so much and was still in shock that one day that wonderful little cottage would be all hers. She would make sure that the garden stayed every bit as looked after. Living there she’d always feel close to Edith; it was just sad that when she inherited it, it would mean that the old lady had died.

  *

  Jimmy was waiting for Ivanka in the car park of the Green Man. He didn’t look at her when she climbed into the passenger seat of his car, but continued to stare straight ahead at two kids playing on the outdoor climbing frame. His annoyance was almost tangible.

  ‘Jimmy, I’m sorry, okay. I made mistake,’ said Ivanka. ‘It’s not that big a deal, though. Della didn’t notice.’

  ‘Della didn’t notice, are you kidding?’ Jimmy shifted in his seat to face her. ‘Did you see the way she looked at me and then at you? She’s sniffed out a connection. Don’t give her anything that could link us together. She’s an intelligent woman is Della. Nothing gets past her.’

  ‘What?’ Ivanka gave a loud humourless huh. ‘We have “got past her” for six whole months, Jimmy.’

  ‘Because we’ve been careful,’ he parried. ‘Today you weren’t bloody careful. One minute you say you’re going into the town centre, the next you might not be going anywhere near a chemist. Then . . . then, you say to me in front of Della. “Please don’t swear Jimmy”,’ he parodied her voice. ‘You sounded like my wife, not my office junior.’

  ‘I am going to be your wife,’ spat Ivanka. ‘Have you forgotten this? So what does it matter? You are going to tell everyone after Lent. You promised.’

  ‘Did I? When did I say the words “I promise”?’

  ‘And why did you say that the office would fall to bits if Della was ill?’ Ivanka had a full-on pout now. ‘Why do you care so much what she thinks? Who is she to you?’

  ‘Oh come on, Ivanka, you know she means nothing to me. It’s called bullshit. I had to try and flirt a bit and distract her after you nearly gave the game away.’

  ‘You are sacking Della, aren’t you, like you promised? I won’t work for her, you know. And she will definitely not work for me.’

  Jimmy’s head sank in his hands. In truth, he couldn’t remember what he had promised Ivanka any more. Did he really say he’d get rid of Della? He couldn’t remember being that stupid. That would be the equivalent of throwing the captain of his ship overboard. He wouldn’t be able to skive off and play golf and go to the gym for whole afternoons if Della wasn’t there holding the fort. He really really hadn’t thought all this through. But that’s what happened when a willy was in charge of planning and not a brain.

  He batted back, attacking defensively. ‘And what was that comment Della made about you sounding like me? Talking about jam on teacakes? I tell you, she knows there is something going on.’

  ‘She does not know, Jimmy. You say this jam and teacake phrase all the time in the office. Of course I am going to repeat things. You are being paralysed.’

  ‘Paralytic . . . I mean paranoid.’ Jesus, he felt as if he was losing it.

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘I might be in a better mood if I had some sex,’ said Jimmy. ‘My balls are the size of watermelons. I can’t t
hink straight when I’m frustrated.’

  ‘You can have sex with your hand until Lent is over,’ said Ivanka, throwing open the car door. ‘I have waited long enough, Jimmy. Now you can know how it feels to have denied to you something you want.’

  And with that, Ivanka exited the car and did not turn around to watch Jimmy squeal out of the car park, which was exactly the same way that he had entered it.

  *

  The taxi drove past Edith’s house and Cheryl spotted Lance’s car down the drive. Everything looked normal. Cheryl should have been relieved but she couldn’t shake off her concern. She had tried to think of a way she could turn up unannounced and see Edith. Maybe to say she was just passing and had she left her watch or her key or her scarf there, but Lance would know she was snooping. She would just have to sit it out until next Thursday, when nothing would stop her going to Edith’s to clean. If, by any chance, a message came from the office to say she hadn’t to go there again, she would pretend that she never received it.

  For the full length of the taxi journey to the Gladstone residence Cheryl was trying to second-guess what she would feel when she saw Gary’s car outside the house, knowing that it meant the chances were he would be inside. She felt sick with anxiety at the thought of it; yet when the taxi pulled near to the neat little terrace house and the car wasn’t there, she felt hollowed out by disappointment. She asked the driver to wait around the corner whilst she delivered the black bin liners and the guitar to their rightful owner. Her hand was shaking as it reached out to the doorbell.

  Ann Gladstone answered it almost immediately and any smile she had intended to give the visitor sank back inside her when she found who was standing by her hydrangea. Her arms made a slow fold over her chest and her lips pushed out a moue of annoyance.

  ‘Oh, I thought you’d show up in person eventually.’

  ‘I’ve just brought Gary’s things back. From the house. He left them behind,’ said Cheryl, her voice as shaky as the rest of her.

  ‘I’ll take them.’ Ann lifted them up and dumped them behind her in her immaculate hallway.

  ‘Is he all right?’ She didn’t want to ask after him; he didn’t deserve her concern, but she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Of course he’s all right. He’s better than ever,’ barked Ann.

  It was hard being on the receiving end of Ann’s narrowed eyes and barbed voice, especially as they’d been friends.

  ‘I never . . . I didn’t want . . .’ Cheryl floundered on. She didn’t want to bad-mouth Ann’s son to her face, but it didn’t matter anyway because Ann wouldn’t let her say any more.

  ‘As sure as water is wet you were bad luck for my lad, Cheryl Parker, we know that now. It’s over, so stop making yourself look daft trying to bother him.’

  ‘I’m not trying to bother him, honestly.’ Unwanted tears started springing to Cheryl’s eyes at the unfairness of it all. How come she was the object of such vitriol when it had been Gary who made it impossible for them to stay together? ‘I still care about him, I’m in bits.’ She couldn’t hold the sobs back, they burbled and hiccupped out of her and the force of them set her shoulders shaking.

  ‘Oh Cheryl, get a grip of yourself. You’re being pathetic,’ snapped Ann Gladstone without a shred of sympathy as she pushed the door shut in Cheryl’s face.

  ‘You all right, love?’ asked the taxi driver, appearing from round the corner to check what the shouting was about.

  ‘Yeah.’ Cheryl sniffed and nodded. ‘Can you drop me back home again, please. I’ve done all I can for today.’

  Chapter 39

  ‘. . . He touched my titty so I squeezed his bollocks. It’s as simple as zat, Della. He won’t be doing it again, I can assure you,’ said Astrid, who had eventually returned Della’s calls.

  ‘You’re right there, because he’s threatened to have a restraining order put out on you. And how come you were cleaning his house and not Cheryl?’ Della was genuinely annoyed about this. She had always run a tight ship and it was against her nature for standards to slip, unless she was implementing those slipping standards for her own ends.

  ‘Look, Cheryl felt that he was being touchy-feely, so ve swapped for one week so I could teach the old dirty man a lesson. Is that the end of the matter? Can I get on viz my life now?’

  There was a question, thought Della. It was on the tip of her tongue to administer a warning and that would be the end of it, because Astrid was one of their star cleaners. But here was a perfect opportunity to drive her into the arms of Lady Muck.

  ‘I’ll have to refer it to Jimmy,’ said Della. ‘He won’t be happy.’

  ‘You’ll have to refer what to Jimmy?’ asked the man himself, striding in and looking in the foulest of moods already. ‘And why won’t he be happy?’

  Della covered up the mouthpiece of the phone as she whispered to Jimmy, making sure the balance of the story was suitably as twisted as Mr Morgan’s genitalia. ‘Astrid has assaulted Mr Morgan. She’s mangled his privates. I managed to get him to agree not to press charges but he wants her sacked. He was talking about going to the newspapers unless we do something.’

  Jimmy closed his eyes to shut out everything in his sight and only wished he could shut off everything in his brain as well. ‘This is all I frigging need,’ he said, exhaling a long, laboured breath.

  Della could see that Jimmy was under pressure about something and likely to make a hasty decision he would later regret. With any luck. She poked the fire a little more for good measure. ‘He’s very well connected. If he decides to make trouble, we’ll lose more than just his business. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘What do you think I want you to do? Get shot of him . . . her I mean,’ he said. Della had removed her hand away from the mouthpiece so that Astrid could hear him rant.

  Is that all that women do – squeeze men’s nuts, literally and metaphorically? Jimmy thought.

  ‘How dare you call me him,’ Astrid’s voice screamed out of the phone.

  ‘You can’t go around squeezing clients’ gonads.’ Jimmy snatched the phone from Della’s hand and shouted down the mouthpiece. ‘That is gross misconduct. You’ll have to work notice till the end of next week if you want your money.’

  ‘Bastard!’ yelled Astrid and cut him off.

  Della wanted to argue Astrid’s case for her and knew she could have got round Jimmy and smoothed things over; but more than that she wanted Astrid to work for Lady Muck, so she shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘Of course you’re right to do that, Jimmy. She went too far. You couldn’t have done anything else. Mr Morgan could have sullied your name everywhere. This way he will keep quiet. He gave me his word.’

  The trouble was that Astrid was a fabulously hard worker, and Della knew that Jimmy would calm down and give her her job back before the end of Astrid’s notice period. She just hoped that Lady Muck had snapped her up by then.

  *

  Astrid was red-faced with fury as she foraged in her cavernous handbag for the business card which she had picked up from the table in the Sunflower Cafe during their last staff meeting. When she located it, she stabbed in the mobile number and waited impatiently for it to be picked up, which it was after five rings.

  ‘Hello, Lady Muck speaking,’ said Connie, with silky rounded vowels, as her auntie Marilyn would have said it.

  ‘Hello, my name is Astrid Kirschbaum and I was a cleaner at Diamond Shine. I am looking for a new job.’

  Connie recognised the name immediately. One of Jimmy’s star cleaners.

  ‘I know your reputation very well, Miss Kirschbaum,’ said Connie.

  ‘And I will bring all my clients with me. I finish next Friday so please, ven can I start working for you?’

  Chapter 40

  On Saturday morning Della’s mother was having one of her better days, which was good for her, but unfortunately those were the ones which wounded Della more than the times when she was totally confused. On her ‘hazy days’, as Joyce the manageress euphe
mistically called them, Moira Frostick sometimes mistook her daughter for one of the physiotherapists and would joke with her and smile and say she was a bonny lass. But the more lucid she was, the more Moira’s mouth locked in a disapproving slit whenever her daughter was near.

  As Della bent over to give her mother a kiss on her dry cheek, she felt her flinch and once again it was as if her heart had been slapped. It had happened so many times and still she had never got used to the pain.

  ‘Hello Mum. How are you today? They said we’d have a bit more snow but, thank goodness, the weather forecasters got it wrong again.’

  ‘What are you doing here? You haven’t been in ages, so why bother now,’ snapped Moira, giving Della the sort of steely glare that most people saved for a traffic warden.

  ‘I come twice a week, Mum, sometimes more. You’ve just forgotten,’ said Della. The staff at Diamond Shine would have been mesmerised by her tenderness if they could see her now. Not even Jimmy had ever witnessed her being so patient and soft.

  Moira didn’t answer but continued to sit with her hands clenched together in her lap, staring straight ahead.

  ‘Tea shouldn’t be long,’ said Della, as brightly as she could. ‘I can hear the trolley. I’ve brought you some of those biscuits you like. They stopped making them for a while; then I found them in Asda last night so I bought a few packets.’ She’d been delighted, too. Even at fifty-one she was still hoping to reach that elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: her mother’s approval.

  ‘I don’t want tea,’ said Moira, as the trolley trundled down the corridor. ‘I like coffee.’

  ‘Well, the girl always asks what you want so you can have a coffee instead.’ That was one of the things Della liked about Sunset Park, that the staff never presumed that what the residents preferred one day was a standard set. But then Sunset Park was one of the most reputable residential care homes around, bettered only by Rose Manor, the most recent to be opened in the area.