The Waitress

by Melissa Nathan

  Dan clicked his mobile phone off almost in slow motion. So. Katie wouldn’t be in today. On a Sunday, their busiest day. She sounded so bad he’d told her to take as long as she needed, until she was completely well again. It was awful to hear her so low; he’d got used to her being constantly bright and perky. Rude, bolshie and unpredictable, yes, but never low. Was it arrogance to wonder if it was anything to do with what had happened between them at the wedding? He pictured her at home, all tiny and vulnerable. Maybe he’d pop round later.

  “Who was that?” asked Geraldine, wandering into his bedroom, towel-drying her hair.

  “Katie. She’s not coming in today.”

  “Oh dear. Why not?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t say, but she sounded awful.”

  Geraldine threw the towel on the bed and started putting on her business suit. “Hmm,” she said, unimpressed. “Anyone can sound awful. You just make the call with your face upside down. Let’s hope she’s better soon.”

  “I told her she should take as much time as she needed.”

  “You what?”

  “She sounded awful. Maybe it’s a really bad monthly thing.”

  “You are a mug, Daniel Crichton. If I phoned in sick every month, I’d be sacked and with good reason. I mean look at me, I’ve got a wedding to organize and I’m going in on a Sunday.”

  “You have a great sense of sisterhood.”

  “Bollocks to that,” said Geraldine. “It’s dog-eat-dog in the workplace.”

  “You know, I just don’t understand women.”

  Geraldine smiled. “Good. The less you understand us, the more control we have.”

  “You don’t think I should be concerned when my most important staff member phones in sounding ill?”

  “I would have thought your chef was your most important staff member,” said Geraldine drily. “For goodness’ sake, you’re her boss, not her counsellor.” She looked at her watch. “Talking of which, I must dash.”

  Dan got into work early and helped Sukie and Patsy because there was a rush, while Nik got things going in the kitchen. Sukie was in a fantastically acerbic mood today. She made Patsy cry with laughter at some of her put-downs, just as soon as she’d worked them out. Dan hadn’t realized how much Katie usually stole the show.

  “I think you’re going to be fine without your friend,” he told her when they’d finished.

  “I should think so,” Sukie told him briskly. “We’re not attached at the hip, you know.”

  He turned to Patsy. “Remind me why you’re called the gentler sex again?” he asked her.

  She gave him a pretty smile. “Because we’re gentler,” she said.

  “Than what?” he muttered.

  Patsy laughed, then stopped. “Than men of course,” she said. “Dur-brain.”

  Hugh flicked the kitchen light on and stopped dead. Shit. The kitchen was a tip. His head was hammering. He needed coffee and a long, hot shower. He could do the kitchen tonight. He opened the fridge door and looked at the loaf of bread. It seemed much smaller than he remembered. He took out the milk and sniffed it. He almost gagged. He put it back in the fridge, slammed the door shut and leaned against the kitchen counter. Bloody bloody hell. He bloody hated being alone. Maxine hadn’t come to the party last night and no one knew why. Bloody rude of her. He made his instant coffee black and, without a backward glance at the kitchen, went back upstairs to bed.

  It only took Katie four hours to get up, washed, dressed and packed. And only another four to “pop” home. A good day’s work, in her opinion. By the time she arrived in the bosom of her family, the bosom was heaving. Bea was there and, of course, so was her recent appendage of five months, Edward. Technically, Eddie should only be four months old and he’d always be small, but oh, he was perfect. Katie took him in her arms and looked at him properly for the first time, seeing him for the miracle he was. Not just because, as yet, he had no signs of inheriting his father’s chin, but because his mother had risked her very life for his. Was motherhood the ultimate example of courage, she wondered, staring at his extraordinary, ordinary babyness.

  Eddie’s new Daddy, Maurice, was working away, which was why Bea and Eddie had come to stay for a few days. Katie’s brother Cliffie and father Sydney were milling around at a safe distance, concerned for her, but unable to do much to help other than nod reassuringly to her from across the room.

  So the job of support network was left for Deanna and Bea to fill, and fill it they did, amply, whenever Eddie wasn’t doing anything cute like grinning, burping, farting, sleeping, waking or breathing. The women sat in the kitchen around the large pine table as if it were a life raft. Just sitting there gave Katie a sense of peace and inner control that she couldn’t seem to find in London. She decided to take another two days off and phoned Dan immediately. He didn’t ask why and she didn’t care what he thought—she suggested making Sukie temporary manager and he said that was a good idea. She thought about asking him to say “hi” to Sukie, but decided against it. She now had time to be with her family, walk in the fields and smell the cow-pats of home. Bliss.

  She sighed deeply.

  “Oh! What was that nasty big sigh for?” Bea asked Eddie, who was blinking pensively at them all from his grandmother’s arms. “Wasn’t that a nasty big sigh? Yes it was. Yes it was. Yes it—”

  “Do you want to come with me to the market tomorrow?” Deanna asked Katie, kissing Eddie’s head.

  “Yes please.”

  “Good. I’ve got to get a few things, but we can treat ourselves to a cream tea in Ye Olde Tea Shoppe.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Bea to Eddie. “Isn’t that lovely? Yes it is. Yes it is. Yes it is.” She turned to them both. “We won’t be able to go I’m afraid. Eddie’s got his first swimming lesson.”

  “Ah, shame,” said Deanna and Katie. “Yes you have,” Bea told her son and heir. “Yes you have.”

  What harm could a text do, thought Hugh, looking at his mobile phone. It would just be friendly interest wouldn’t it? Maxine had said she’d be at the party and she wasn’t there. She could be ill, or something could be wrong. Maybe that carpenter was hitting her. He’d just give her a quick text to find out how she was. After he’d tidied the kitchen. Yep. Right. He slipped his mobile into his back pocket and walked carefully down the stairs, turned on the telly and made a start on the mess.

  What the hell did people do on a Sunday, thought Hugh later. He’d watched The Waltons, cleaned the kitchen, thrown away the bread and been food shopping. And all that with a dull hangover, so he hadn’t exactly been rushing. When he and Maxine had been doing up the house, their weekends had been so busy they hadn’t had a moment to themselves. He remembered commenting about how he thought he’d never have time to read a Sunday paper again. He’d read it front to back today, even the travel section which he hated, and still there were hundreds of hours left till Monday. He sat down in the living room and flicked on the telly. Absolutely nothing on. He might just write and complain. He pulled out his mobile phone. Right, he thought. Just a light-hearted text, nothing serious. He picked up the remote and checked the other channels. Nothing. Oh sod it. He texted Maxine and then finished off a bottle of whisky.

  Katie always enjoyed going to the market. Whatever stage of life she was at, it always represented just what she needed. When she was younger it made her feel responsible and important because she was doing errands for her mother. When she was a teenager it made her feel adventurous and reckless because this was where the boys from all the neighboring villages came and loitered on their motorbikes. When she was a student it made her feel connected to home again. And now it made her feel as if the world was a safe and harmless place and all her problems could somehow be sorted out.

  They set off bright and early, to give Deanna plenty of time to stop and chat to most of the stall-holders. All of them seemed delighted to see Katie, asked how her job in London was going and told her how all their own family were,
especially those of corresponding ages. Yet again, the market did its trick, because to each stall-holder alike, Katie’s choice to up-sticks and move to London, the scariest city in the country, represented the biggest risk anyone could take.

  By the time she and her mother found themselves in Ye Olde Tea Shoppe—where nothing had changed, including owner, cutlery and menu since it had opened fifty years ago—Katie was feeling a little better. She was welcomed back there with such familial warmth that she felt guilty she hadn’t given the café a single thought in the years she’d been away. Now, however, she looked at it with different eyes. Would her mother consider Mrs. Blatchett, owner of the shop, a woman who had wasted her life? No. She had a strong business that had seen her through her husband’s early death and her son’s emigration to the other side of the world. Now easily in her seventies, she was still agile and the light in her eye still shone as brightly as in the days when Katie was brought here as a reward for getting a good end-of-term report. And of course, Katie now saw, the café was a testament to the courage of Mrs. Blatchett, who had taken a risk and followed through, come rain or shine. Her café, a respectable business and beloved landmark for an entire village, was her deserved payback.

  “Now what can I get for you, my dears?” asked Mrs. Blatchett, no need for pen or paper.

  “We’ll have two of your best English cream teas please,” answered Deanna.

  “Lovely.” Mrs. Blatchett turned to Katie. “And how is the waitressing going in London, my dear?”

  “Fine thanks.”

  “Hard work?”

  “Yes, but I enjoy it mostly.”

  Mrs. Blatchett sighed. “I can’t find anyone who wants to stay in this job any more. Not after poor Miss Abbingdon upped and left for Cornwall.”

  “You’ve still got waitresses though, haven’t you?” asked Deanna.

  Mrs. Blatchett lowered her voice. “Flighty things. Work here for a summer and then they’re off. Everyone wants to travel nowadays, like the world might up and vanish if they stay put longer than a week. When I was their age I was happy to go to Blackpool for the day.” She sighed. “Lord knows what’ll happen when I retire. One of those wretched coffee chains will probably snap it up.”

  “Perish the thought.”

  “Well,” said Mrs. Blatchett, “coffee’s the thing now, isn’t it? Americans are taking over the world. Came in late to the war so they think they’ve got a right. No, I’ll probably sell up soon. Quit while I’m ahead. Anyway, hark at me. Two cream teas coming up.” And off she went.

  By the time Katie’s home-made scones and crustless white cucumber sandwiches were in front of her on a plate with a doily, she was beginning to feel unfamiliar stirrings of pride in her work. And as she watched her mother pour tea out of a china teapot, another unfamiliar feeling came to her. The feeling of wanting to take a risk. She stared at the scene in front of her and could barely breathe, let alone eat, for excitement. Oh, this was a new feeling altogether. It made all the other times shrink into insignificance. This, she realized, staring like one possessed at her plate of neat white carbohydrates on a doily, was it.

  She would visit Great-Aunt Edna this afternoon.

  She could barely concentrate on anything until she got home. And then when she did, she was in for a big surprise. Sydney had had a busy day rounding up all the eligible young men still left in the country, with the energy and focus of a sheepdog. It was the only way he knew to help his youngest daughter. There would be six for dinner, he informed his wife. Luckily, Deanna had foreseen such a tactical move and had decided that if you can’t beat them, join them. She had invited two friends from her local book club; one the owner of a book publisher’s based in the nearby city center, the other a buyer for the county’s most élite furrier. Both had promised they would put in a good word for Katie, should she so desire. And she’d bought enough game to provide dinner for at least ten, just in case.

  Thankfully, Katie had time to visit Great-Aunt Edna before such a trial. In the little kitchen, she was unable to wait until the tea had been poured before pouring out her own plans. Great-Aunt Edna listened with eyes alight, and none of her custard creams were eaten that day. They talked until dusk. Then Great-Aunt Edna walked her to the front door and gave her a surprisingly firm hug for someone of her small frame. Then she kissed her on the forehead, said “Remember what I told you,” and waved her off.

  By the time Katie got back home that evening, there wasn’t enough time to discuss her visit: they only had half an hour to get ready. Deanna hardly noticed the change in her daughter; she only knew that things seemed to get done a lot faster than usual.

  And so that evening Katie found herself facing two twin-sets and earls. Or rather, earls-as-soon-as-their-entire-cousin’s-families-were-wiped-out-in-a-hideous-tragedy.

  “So,” Lavinia, the furrier’s buyer, began over soup. “I hear you’re at a loose end, career-wise?”

  “Well,” replied Katie, reluctant to embarrass her mother, “shall we say I’m keeping my options open? For the moment, that is.”

  Lavinia nodded, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a serviette. “I see. So, tell me, what are your thoughts on fur?”

  Katie was wondering whether to say that fur was great because it kept animals from looking stupid, when Eligible Bachelor Number 1 spoke up. “Ah fur!” he murmured at Lavinia over his soup spoon. “I hear the chattering classes have now decided it’s back in fashion.”

  Lavinia smiled. “It never really went out of fashion around here.”

  He nodded. “I should think not.”

  They proceeded to discuss the superior demographics of a village unsullied by fashion and run entirely on tradition. As they spoke, Eligible Bachelor Number 2 saw his chance. He turned to Katie, as the soup plates were being cleared away.

  “I hear you live in London at the moment?” he said. “I know London very well, we have a house there. Which part?”

  Katie told him and he looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe she was telling the truth. “Never heard of it. Is it anywhere near Dulwich?”

  “No, it’s north.”

  He stared at her. “North?” he repeated. “Oh, I don’t know that part at all.”

  “I love south London,” chimed in Susannah, the publisher.

  “Oh you know London do you?” asked Eligible Bachelor Number 2, almost turning his entire body away from Katie.

  “Oh, God, yes,” drawled Susannah. “I have to go to four meetings a month down there. Dreadfully dull, but at least it’s near Chelsea, and I always pop to the King’s Road.”

  And so ended that evening’s potential to further Katie’s career and marital chances, and so began two successful relationships accommodated in four magnificent properties and resulting in five children. It turned out that that day was one of risk-taking for a lot of people.

  Katie and her parents finished up in the kitchen, washing the dishes, while the others drank their port. She really was dreadfully sorry for them both, not just for this evening, but for the past few years. So it was good to know that was about to change.

  Chapter 26

  TUESDAY WAS MID-JUNE PERFECTION AND KATIE WAS WOKEN BY THE sound of about three-hundred exhilarated birds announcing this happy fact. She was out of bed in the blink of an eye, showered, dressed and out of the house before anyone else awoke, catching a precious dawn hour that gave her a sense of ownership over the rest of the day. She drove through narrow, blossom-hemmed lanes and felt confident that she would see many more such mornings. For she, Katie Simmonds, Cowardess Extraordinaire, was about to change her life and take a risk. She was putting all her eggs in one big, fat, frilly basket. And to her amazement it felt good—like taking the stabilizers off a bike. After all these years, the very thing she’d been scared of had been the very thing she’d needed to do to unlock her spirit. She felt liberated.

  Great-Aunt Edna met her at the door, her eyes bright and warm.

  “What say you to a morning cup of te
a in the garden?” she asked with a smile. They shared the bijou garden with all manner of birds proclaiming the news that the sun was hot, the grass was green, the hedges were full and the bird bath was glistening. Great-Aunt Edna smiled across her little table at Katie. “Changed your mind?”

  Katie shook her head. “Nope. Not on your life.”

  “Ooh,” laughed Edna. “You don’t want to go betting on my life, my dear.”

  “Oh sorry,” rushed Katie, blushing. What a stupid thing to say to an old person.

  Edna gave a little chuckle. “It’s far too long and full.”

  Katie held up her china teacup and against the backdrop of a soft summer breeze, they clinked to each other’s good health and good luck. “Because that is all you really need in life,” Edna had said when they’d met the day before. “Good health and good luck.”

  Hugh had never been so grateful for his job. He walked along the city street, breathing in the toxic fumes, watching the other city workers all pacing to work, holding their coffee high, their briefcases low, ear-pieces stuck in place.

  He’d popped into the café again today, but Katie still hadn’t been in. Normally that, on top of Maxine not returning his text, would have crushed him, but he had work to go to. He had a job to do. He had a desk all his own, waiting for him. He had mates to gossip with and argue about Big Brother with. He had a boss who didn’t take any shit. He had a bonus to look forward to. He had stuff to do. Busy busy busy.

  He walked into the office. Early again. Maybe he’d get a rise. All these extra hours he was working. Blimey, that and the exercise. When Maxine next saw him he’d be a new man. Best thing in his life this was turning out to be. He heard the lift door open behind him and turned to see who it was. Excellent! His boss.

  “Morning Penrose,” said his boss. “How’s that lovely girlfriend of yours?”

  Hugh managed a croak and a smile and then, as soon as his boss had turned the corner, went to the Gents. His stomach had gone peculiar.