by C.J Duggan
Chapter Twenty-Six
To keep my mind busy, and to the utter shock of my parents, I offered my services to the Rose Caf?' from Mondays to Thursdays.
I know, right? I just couldn't take lying on my bed being in my head all day. Or worse, hanging with the Onslow Boys. With Toby and Angela.
Once over their own shock, Mum and Dad had agreed wholeheartedly and even insisted I was paid properly and everything. Looks like that top I had been eyeing off wasn't so far away, after all. It was good to be there, we all liked it. Over summer, the peak tourist season, I usually rarely got to see my parents at all.
And it's not like I had anything better to do. Ellie started spending her every waking moment with Stan. Adam had headed back to his nan's in the City.
It wasn't until Thursday afternoon at the caf? that I saw a familiar six-foot-three figure at the counter, peering into the glass cabinet. He was wearing his navy work shirt and pants and an impressively fluorescent orange safety vest, with reflective trimming.
I walked up slowly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid your attire is in a serious colour clash with our d?cor."
He turned abruptly with a surprised smile. "McGee!"
"Murphy!"
"What are you doing here?"
"I work here Monday to Thursdays."
"Two jobs? You put us all to shame."
"No I think that fluro vest ensemble puts you to shame."
I walked around the counter to grab an order docket. "So I have to ask. Did you happen to receive a pie this week?"
Sean looked at me blankly.
"A Summer Berry pie?"
Still nothing. I shook my head. "Unbelievable, you wait 'til I see that Toby Morrison."
A spark of recognition flickered in his grey-blue eyes.
"If you are referring to a parcel I received at work containing a crust of a pie with a note saying, 'Tess made us pie. It was delicious', then, yes, I received a secondhand portion of pie."
My jaw fell open. "That is so mean. The pies were meant to be for all of you."
"Pies? Plural?"
I told him about the pies I had lovingly made from scratch and instead of being mad, Sean laughed, scratching his chin.
"Right! Well, I guess this means war."
"Uh oh!"
"It's been a long-standing Murphy-Morrison tradition, war has," he said. "It was his turn for payback. Now it's my turn. I'm going to have to have a think about the next one. However long it takes."
"Riiight, okay," I said, "well, I'm not getting involved. I don't want my bike mailed back to me in pieces."
"Fair enough." Sean went back to studying the contents of the glass cabinet. I watched him as he chose. His cheek dimpled for a second and was gone again. It was an unexpected delight each time he smiled, but he wasn't really a smiler, more like a wicked grinner. He looked older than twenty-two, but maybe that was because he was so filled out, so muscular, that it made it hard not to ogle him. His short-cropped hair made it hard to decipher what colour it was, probably brown. He wasn't beautiful like Toby, but he was handsome.
"Why don't you have a girlfriend, Sean?"
Had I said that out loud?
He leaned on the counter studying me like a bug under a microscope.
I blushed, flustered. "Sorry, that's rude, it's just I don't understand why you wouldn't."
He nodded. "Because of my dynamic personality and my freakishly handsome good looks?"
"Never a serious answer with you, is there?"
His mouth curved at the corners, and he adjusted the serviette dispenser on the counter. "I don't know, why don't you have a boyfriend?"
It was my turn to fidget under scrutiny. "Guess I just haven't found the right one yet."
A moment passed between us of mutual understanding. It was nice. It felt like I was connecting with Sean for the first -
Mum sidled up alongside me and pretended to look at something on the cash register. Typical Mum move. She stared at the register with a look of fierce concentration, a scowl that didn't lift when she rose her gaze to Sean and held it there. Oh my God ? what had she heard?
Then I remembered that I wasn't at the Onslow. Any fun, harmless bantering (if not borderline flirting) with an older boy wouldn't be looked on kindly by my bosses here.
How much had she seen?
"Tess, honey, why don't you jump on the coffee machine and fix table five some cappuccinos for me, please. I'll serve this young man."
Mum handed me a docket from her apron pocket. In other words, get away from my daughter. Yeah she'd been listening alright.
Sean's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
I would prepare myself for twenty questions later.
I made my way towards the opposite counter and started work on table five's cappucinos. Funny, considering my early fear of this apparatus, I now fancied myself quite the barista extraordinaire. I even went so far as to make quaint little shapes with a shake of the cocoa powder dust. No wonder my parents looked at me suspiciously. What had I become?
After serving Sean, Mum came over all smiles, an enigma of easy going. I knew she wasn't feeling easy going, and I knew what was coming next.
"So who was that?" This was just the beginning of my interrogation. I supplied the details she could handle, but failed to mention that Sean and his friends were a big part of my extra-curricular activities. I also failed to mention that Ellie was dating Stan Remington, or that Toby Morrison himself was fixing my bike. I knew if I gave my mother too much information she would piece it all together and draw her own conclusion.
Men-drinking-taking-advantage-teenage-pregnancy-game-over! My parents were prone to jumping to this conclusion. I think they were overrating my effect on the opposite sex.
So I played it down and soon she was partially satisfied, got bored and gave up, leaving me with a sceptical, wary 'I'm-not-thoroughly-convinced' look on her face as she put table seven's croissant in the toaster.
As November merged into December, Christmas-party season was well underway and the Rose Caf? had been booked for the local doctor's surgery shindig on Friday. Mum and Dad had pleaded for me to help and said they would make it financially worth my while so I couldn't exactly say no. Besides, I knew how busy it was and rushed off their feet they were. It's not like I wasn't going to get anything out of it: it was money and, not to mention, sure to score me some brownie points with the olds.
And it was just one night; what's one night in the grand scheme of things? I mentally chided myself any time my heart ached about not seeing Toby. I had to stop myself from thinking that way. He didn't belong to me; he was well and truly Angela's.
Although I could have sworn there were times when something passed between us - looks, touches, even the gaps in conversation.
When we sat in his car at the Point that night, I thought that maybe, just maybe, for the smallest of moments that he felt what I felt.
Argh! I was thinking about Toby again! Maybe a night away from the Onslow social scene would do me some good. Let them converge on the hotel without me.
I knew Ellie would be there because when she called me she whinged and whined incessantly about the fact I had to work.
"But it's Friday." The horrified words travelled through the phone receiver.
"I know, but I promised."
I then used my skills of deflection and switched the subject to Stan. Worked like a charm. Apparently, they were going to the hotel to hang out, and then the group would head up to the Point. Relief washed over me, because witnessing Angela and Toby together was definitely not my idea of a good time.
"Come on, Tess, at least come to the Point with us after, you'll be finished by then, surely."
No. No. I would take a stand. One night off. Surely I could manage that.
