by Ginny Clyde
“This year we start with calculus,” he began. “This will be most important to students looking forward to go into Science. However, it has applications in other fields such as economics and statistics.”
The rest of the class went by with us making furtive notes as he explained ‘functions’. When the bell rang, he said in a louder voice, “Do the first five problems from the exercise page.”
A collective groan answered him. He smiled, placing the cap back on his marker pen. I was about to climb out of my desk when he called out my name.
“A word, please?”
I nodded. “I’ll see you in a bit,” I said to Stacie and walked towards Mr. Brown’s desk.
“Are you all right, Olivia?” asked Mr. Brown in a low voice.
“Yes. I’m sorry my mother worried you.”
“As long as you’re okay, it’s fine. If anyone is troubling you, let me know. Your mother is sort of making me watch over you and your brother.” He chuckled. “I’m supposed to do that with all my students, really, but you two are special.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Mother appreciates it. As do we,” I added.
“Good. You got a class next?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, hurry up then.”
I came out of the classroom and checked my schedule. There was another History class on level three of the Washington Building. I groaned internally. After yesterday’s class, I was sure that it would not be my favorite subject. There was a lot to catch up on before I could follow the class.
Making up my mind to go to the library that day to pick up some books, I climbed up the stairs. Stacie reserved the seat next to her for me. She removed her bag from it as soon as I entered the classroom.
“What did Mr. Brown want?” asked Stacie.
“He asked me how I was doing here since I’m new and all.”
Satisfied with my explanation, Stacie nodded. I did not tell her Mr. Brown was a friend of my mother’s.
The next hour was boring as I tried to keep up with the various figures of the American Civil War. I saw Stacie nodding from time to time, making notes.
The rest of the day crept by. During lunch, Stacie welcomed me to join a small group of friends at their table. The cafeteria was crowded and noisy, reminding me of the Academy’s massive dining hall where the whole student body gathered to eat meals. The food I received wasn’t appetizing, but my grumbling stomach would not let me complain and I ate everything on my tray.
We had two more classes after lunch. However, it was difficult to concentrate as I looked forward to going back to Bramble’s tea shop. I hoped Sarah would stay and taste some of the food.
Stacie offered to walk home with me as her house was on the way to my home.
“I am meeting my mother after school,” I said. “Perhaps, another day?”
“Sure.”
As she went by, I felt someone watching me from the corner of my eyes. It was Jenny and her three friends glowering at me from their perch on a bench by the school gate.
Turning away from them, I walked ahead. Sarah came in my view soon. She wore a loose cotton shirt over some faded, old jeans. For a moment, she looked completely different from the Sarah Buchannan who posed as the mistress of the Buchannan Mansion on Duke Street in Edinburgh.
I couldn’t help wondering what people would think if they saw me, trying to fit in with students at an American public school. Over the last week, I received plenty of emails and messages on social from my old friends at Strathmoore, but I chose to ignore them all. They didn’t need to know where I was or what I was up to. I hoped the secretary at the Academy would keep my details private and allow me to gently fade from all memory.
Sarah waved at me. I smiled and waved back.
“How was your day, honey?” she asked when I reached her.
“Good. Ready to go?”
I led the way to the shopping center. Sarah turned her head in every direction as we passed by the mall and shops.
“There are so many new places. Most of the old shops are gone,” she lamented on every street.
After some time, she clutched onto my arm.
“What’s wrong, Mother?” I asked, seeing her bewildered expression. She pointed to a shop on the right side of the road. “Mary Ann’s Eastern Emporium,” I read aloud.
“Didn’t think that would be here. Come with me,” she said, pulling me into the shop.
“Why? We don’t need anything from there.”
She shushed me. We entered a small, dimly lit shop. It felt like going inside a tent. Decorative lamps cast dull glows in the shadowed depths. Wall hangings with tiny mirrors reflected bursts of silver light as they swayed gently in the breeze. The air was heavy with spicy incense. All around us lay richly embroidered cushions, pillows and thick stacks of blankets.
“Welcome to Mary Ann’s Moroccan heaven,” said a dreamy voice.
“Debbie? Is that you?” asked Sarah, squinting at a shadowy figure that was walking towards us.
A woman about Sarah’s age stood before us. She was taller than my mother and wore a long, flowing maxi dress in a vivid red and gold color. Her long dark hair was twisted into a long braid and slung over her shoulder.
“Is that you, Sarah Butler?” asked the woman, leaning down to take a better look at Sarah.
“It is. How have you been, Debbie?”
“Oh my! It really is you. David said you were living at your old house. I thought it was a rumor or I would have come to check. I mean, you were gone. I never thought you would come back.”
“Yeah.” Sarah hesitated for a moment before giving me a push forward. “This is my daughter, Olivia.”
Debbie made another sound of surprise before turning her gaze on me. “She has your chin and hair. What do her eyes look like?”
“They are green,” I said, wondering if the shop really had no lights. “I have my father’s eyes.”
“Well c’mon,” said Debbie, leading us to the back of the store. It was small but well lit. She stared at each of us in turn and began talking to Sarah. From the conversation, I understood that they had been friends since their school years. However, before they could launch into a long chat regarding my father I spoke up.
“Mother, we’re getting late.”
“Late for what?” asked Debbie.
“She’s taking me to see this funny place she wants to work at,” said Sarah.
“Oh?”
“It’s not a funny place, Mother. It’s a well-established tea shop.” I glanced at Debbie’s curious face. “It’s not far from here. Do you know of Bramble Wood’s Royal Tea Shop?”
Debbie clapped her hands together and smiled. “Of course, I know. I go there every weekend. If possible I would go every day, but I’m watching my weight.”
“Do you know the owner?” asked Sarah.
“I don’t know her personally, but I see her around. Her shop’s been on Oak Church Street for about a decade now. We get used to seeing each other, working in the same area.”
“So, you think it’s a good place for Olivia to work?” asked Sarah.
Debbie nodded. “Maybe she can get me a discount too?” she asked with a grin and a wink.
“I don’t work there yet,” I said, suppressing my smile. I turned towards Sarah. “Can we please go now? It will be a long walk from there to home.”
“You should have taken the car. It is a long way from where you guys live,” agreed Debbie.
Sarah looked down at her lap. “We don’t have a car yet.”
Debbie looked like she was about to say something, but then glanced towards me. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a card. “Call me when you can talk. Maybe I can help?” she said, handing the card to Sarah.
To my relief, Sarah got up to leave after that. Walking faster, I led the way until we reached Bramble’s tea shop.
“Let’s go in,” I said, pushing through the glass doors.
Sarah looked about in every direction. The place was cr
owded and I saw Jeanne waving her way through the tables with a large tray in her hand. The air was heavy with the fragrance of a variety of tea. Mingling with that was the heady aroma of freshly baked goods.
I was surprised at how familiar the shop seemed to me. Feeling confident, I marched up to the counter. A young woman stood there. She smiled as we approached.
“We’re here to see Miss Bramble. Could you let her know Olivia Buchannan is here?” I said.
“Sure. Give me a minute,” she said and went in through a door behind her. She came back almost immediately.
“Hello, Olivia,” said a voice behind me.
Turning around, I saw Bramble. That day, she wore a fuchsia-hued long dress. Her hair was fashioned in the same slick bob I’d seen the day before.
“Hi, Bramble,” I said with a smile. “This is my mother, Sarah.”
Bramble shook hands with Sarah and led us through a door at the back of the shop into her office. The smell of baking was stronger there.
“I am glad you brought your mother,” said Bramble. “I would not feel comfortable about you working here without her permission.”
I looked at Sarah who had an anxious look on her face.
“Are you all right, Mother?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m just worried whether you will be able to do the work. Clearing the dirty dishes and wiping the tables will be part of the job.”
“And taking the garbage out as well,” added Bramble.
A month ago, I would have cringed at the thought of touching garbage bags. However, living in our new house, Sarah often made me or James carry the rubbish to the large bins positioned outside.
Sarah turned towards me. “I don’t think you can do this sort of job.”
“Why not?”
Sarah hesitated as she glanced at Bramble. “You just can’t. It’s not something you’re used to.”
“I’ll get used to it,” I insisted.
“But-”
“Stop acting like I’m a cushioned flower that doesn’t know how the world works. We had cleaning duty at the academy. We cleaned up messes in the halls to avoid getting into trouble. Besides, we need the money. I need things for school and you won’t always be able to afford them.”
“Still, Olivia. Think properly,” urged Sarah.
My rising anger made me ball my fists. “I have thought of it. I am being responsible. Will you feel better if I did something shady to get money?”
“Of course, not. It’s just…if your uncle ever found out…” Her lips suddenly began to tremble.
A hollow laugh escaped me. “He doesn’t care anymore. Just relax.” I glanced at Bramble who was playing on her phone. I cleared my throat to get her attention. When she looked up, I said, “I am a fast learner. If you give me a chance, I would like to prove myself.”
“Granted,” she said with a smile. Her glasses flashed white as she said it, so that her eyes completely disappeared, making her look bizarre. “You start here tomorrow.”
Chapter 7
I kept glancing at my watch the whole day, willing it to move faster. It was my first day at Bramble’s tea shop as an employee and I wanted to make a good first impression. As soon as the 3 P.M screeched overhead, I shot to my feet. The loud scraping noise of my desk shifting attracted every pair of eyes at me. A moment passed and people began sniggering and moving out of their own seats.
“What’s the hurry?” asked Stacie, clutching my skirt.
Pulling the piece of fabric, I said, “First day at a job. Must hurry!”
“Good luck!” she cried as I jogged out of the classroom.
The afternoon sun was warm as I walked through the tree-lined avenues towards Oak Church Street. A passing breeze lifted my blond hair, making my spirits rise. There was a little fear mixed with my excitement.
I had never waited tables or worked in a restaurant before. Sarah doubted whether I could do it at all, but I was determined to prove myself. I refused to be labeled a spoiled brat who couldn’t grow out of her ways. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the sky.
It was going to be a new experience. I desperately hoped to fit in with the rest of people at the tea shop and learn things fast.
When I walked into the café, it was crowded like yesterday. I made my way through the busy tables and entered through the door which the waitresses used to carry out trays of food. Bramble’s office was located to the left and up ahead, stood the kitchen.
“Hello,” said Jeanne, whizzing past with a loaded tray. “Boss is in the office.”
Knocking on the slightly ajar door, I entered.
Bramble looked up from the laptop in front of her.
“Come in, Olivia.”
She gestured for me to take the chair opposite her. Sitting down, I let my bag sit on the floor at my feet.
“Before we begin, I want to discuss the timings and your salary,” said Bramble, setting her laptop away.
I nodded.
“I was thinking three hours per day for four days of the week,” said Bramble. “This way you will have one day off during the week along with two days at the weekend. It will help you catch up with your assignments and other school activities.”
Twelve hours per week, I counted in my head.
“The waitresses get paid around three dollars an hour plus the tips they make. On an average day, they make almost ten dollars an hour and sometimes more.”
My face fell. “That’s all?”
Bramble chuckled. “It’s not too bad. If you do a good job, you can make between twenty to fifty dollars a day. When the holiday season arrives, waitresses get tipped more generously. So, it is not as bad as it sounds.” Her features became serious. “It will be hard work though, Olivia. It will be hectic in the afternoons. That is when the biggest rush comes in through the door. The other time is morning, but you won’t be working that shift. Most days you would be too tired to do anything after going home. I’m repeating your mom’s words, but are you absolutely sure that you are up for it?”
“I am.”
“Good,” she said, standing up. “I’ll give you a tour of the place.” She led me out of the office and marched towards the kitchen.
It was hot inside the blue tiled kitchen. A plump woman with her back towards us was taking out a tray of croissants from the oven. My mouth watered at the sight of the perfect golden pastries.
“This is Nicole,” said Bramble, gesturing towards the woman.
Hearing her name, Nicole turned to face us. She wore a white chef’s coat. Strands of red bangs were sticking to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were round and red as apples. Wiping her hands on a cloth, she asked, “Is that the new girl?”
“Yes.” Turning towards me, Bramble said, “Nicole is our chef and baker.”
“Hello,” I said with a smile. “It is nice to meet you.”
“Welcome,” she said, turning away and picking up the tray to place it on the counter.
“Come along,” said Bramble, giving me a gentle push.
We walked further inside the kitchen and came upon the area where an elderly woman stood over a stove. Shelves filled with tins of tea lined the wall in front of her.
“This is Judith,” said Bramble. “She is our brewer.”
“Who’s this?” asked Judith, looking at me with interest. She seemed to be over sixty years old, but with her thick makeup, it was difficult to tell her age.
“This is Olivia,” introduced Bramble. “She will be joining our servers.”
“Are you still in school, dear? You look so young.”
“I am a student at Knightswood High,” I said with a nod.
“What kind of tea are you making, Judith?” I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity. Apart from the glass kettle boiling on the stove, there was an array of ingredients on the counter. Adding to that, there was a brightly painted clay kettle.
“This is one of our specialties,” said Judith, turning back to the stove and adding ingredients to the boiling water. “I
t is called Yogi Chai and is flavored with Indian herbs and spices. You must try it sometime.”
“I have had chai,” I said, thinking of the café that served it on the Academy campus.
“But, you must try the one I make,” insisted Judith as she poured the dark brew into the painted clay pot. Loading it on a tray, she put it on the counter located at the front of her workspace.
“Watch,” said Bramble.
Jeanne walked in and picked up a slip of paper on the tray. Without a word, she nodded and picked up the tray. I watched as she added cups and saucers, teaspoons and small jugs of milk and sugar. Once she was done, she marched out of the kitchen.
“She was matching the order. If the customer added food, she would pick those from Nicole’s counter and carry them to the table,” explained Bramble.
While Bramble talked, another waitress walked in and attached three slips of paper to a string hanging from the front counter. Judith picked them up and read each slip before putting three kettles on the stove to boil water.
“Kristen just delivered the orders. Nicole and Judith get them and get to work,” said Bramble, pointing at Judith.
“Got it.”
Bramble walked back to her office with me following her. It was so much cooler outside the kitchen.
“Here’s your uniform and apron,” said Bramble, handing me a stack of folded clothing. It was similar to Jeanne’s outfit. “You must not wear shiny jewelry. Have your hair tied at all times. This way it stays out of your way and the customer’s food.”
I did my best to memorize the rules as she spoke them.
“Basically, appear as plain as possible. This helps the customers to keep their focus on your face alone.”
“Right,” I muttered, understanding why servers often wore block of light or dark colors and never prints.
Bramble spent the next hour giving me a lecture on manners and proper greetings. They all seemed simple and understandable. Be at your best behavior to get tipped well. Be at your best behavior even if someone is being nasty. Be at your best behavior at all times even when your head is on fire!
“The rush ends at six P.M. You can meet Carla, Dorothy, and Margot, then. In the meantime study the menu. You must be able to memorize all the items.” She pulled her laptop close to her and began working.
