Читать книгу The Girl Who Lied - Sue Fortin - Страница 12

Normally at six in the morning, I would be going for my morning run or sweating it out in the gym. Today, however, I’m standing inside the doorway of Seahorse Café wondering if I’ve stepped back in time. Nothing has changed since I walked away as a sixteen-year-old.

The easy-wipe Formica tables with their padded bench seats are lined up and down the café in three uniform rows of four. Each table is set the same as it has always been. I remember cleaning the tables every night and arranging the red and brown sauce bottles to stand behind the salt and pepper with the plastic menu slotted between to keep it upright.

The counter at the rear of the café looks the same too. A cold cabinet for cakes to one side and the cutlery and napkins to the other, next to a small selection of crisps and biscuits. Behind the counter is the tea and coffee making machine, together with a fridge for the milk and cold drinks. Through the serving hatch where the orders are pushed, I can see the stainless-steel kitchen equipment, all exactly as I remember.

Before I can do anything, I need to move the four silver bistro tables and their chairs from inside the café, where they have been stacked overnight, and take them outside. They aren’t so much heavy as awkward and once accomplished I can tick that task off the list Mum gave to me last night.

Consulting the list, I continue to prepare the café for opening.

In the kitchen, I am just tying my apron when I hear the little bell above the door jangle to announce the arrival of the first customer.

‘Right, here we go,’ I say, as I tuck the order pad and pen into the front pocket of the apron. However, my breezy morning smile slips as I see who my first two customers are.

Kerry and Joe Wright.

‘Morning, Bunny,’ calls Joe as I make my way round the counter and walk down towards them. He grins broadly at me.

‘Morning. How’s your dad?’ says Kerry. They sit down at a table.

‘About the same,’ I reply. I take the order pad and pen from my pocket, not wanting to get into small talk. Not with Joe, anyway. Kerry’s okay. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Two house breakfasts, one tea and one coffee, please,’ replies Kerry.

I head straight back to the kitchen and I’m just putting the bacon on to cook when I hear the bell jangle above the door. Peeking through the serving hatch, I see two more customers arrive. Painters, judging by their overalls, followed by another chap, who is probably some sort of tradesman too if his work clothes are anything to go by.

Three more breakfast orders later, I’m back in the kitchen hurriedly putting more sausages and bacon in the frying pan, whilst stirring the beans in one pot and cracking eggs in a pan for the first order.

Taking out the two breakfasts for Kerry and Joe, I’m greeted by yet another customer. I didn’t realise the café was so busy this time in the morning.

I spend the next twenty minutes rushing round like a whirling dervish but, despite my best efforts, I manage to burn one of the orders. The scrambled eggs have stuck to the bottom of the pan.

‘Sod it,’ I say out loud as black bits begin churning up into the yellow egg. I try to pick out some of the bits and wonder whether I can get away with serving it. In all honesty, not: it looks like the scrambled eggs have freckles. Dumping the pan down into the sink, the clatter resonates around the kitchen. I grab some more eggs and break them into a clean pan. Glancing through the hatch again, I sigh inwardly as I see Joe standing there.

‘Just want to pay,’ he calls through to me. ‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run…’

‘You should do them in the microwave. A lot quicker and less chance of burning.’ A voice behind me makes me jump and I swing round. I watch, lost for words, as Kerry casually strolls over to the hob, turns the heat off completely then washes his hands in the small sink next to the fridge.

‘Don’t worry, all nice and clean,’ he says as he dries them on a paper towel. ‘I’ll send Joe on his way. I’ll settle up the bill.’

‘Right, thanks.’ I watch as he motions to Joe through the hatch then begins to rummage around in the cupboard. Surely he doesn’t think he is going to help out in the kitchen. He takes out a plastic bowl and puts it on the counter.

‘Yep, this will do,’ he says. ‘Pass the eggs and milk.’

‘I’m not sure my dad would approve,’ I say, as I open a fresh box of eggs.

‘We won’t tell him, then,’ whispers Kerry conspiratorially in my ear. ‘It will be our secret. Why don’t you get on with the drinks? I’ll keep an eye on this lot here.’ He picks up the order slips, arranging them on the work surface and then, turning to me, the amused look still on his face, he waves the whisk in the direction of the doorway. ‘Go on.’ He has an air of authority yet calmness about him and I find myself obediently following his instructions.

Within ten minutes, all the customers are tucking into their food without complaint and Kerry is having a much-deserved cup of tea.

‘Thanks for that,’ I say gratefully. ‘I’m a bit out of practice.’

‘I gathered.’ Kerry grins over the rim of his mug. Then, more seriously. ‘Look, about Joe.’ Immediately I feel myself tense. I don’t say anything as I wait for him to continue. ‘Don’t take any notice of his teasing. He doesn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Oh, I’m not bothered about Jody, I mean, Joe,’ I lie, forcing a laugh. ‘Although it is a bit boring after all these years. You kind of think when you’re in your mid-twenties you’ve grown out of all that stupid nickname business. Obviously, Joe has still got a bit of growing up to do.’ I can hear the tone in my voice changing involuntarily as I speak, not quite able to suppress the irritation I feel. I turn my attention to rinsing out my cup.

‘So, how come you and Joe have never crossed paths in all this time? You must have been back to visit your family and I certainly don’t remember seeing you either,’ Kerry asks.

I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other as I concentrate on cleaning an imaginary mark from my cup. ‘I usually pop over for a brief visit. It’s very busy at work. I’m a beautician at a health-and-fitness spa so I don’t always work regular hours. It’s not easy.’

‘Don’t you keep in touch with any of your old school friends?’

‘No, not really.’ Christ, wasn’t it time he went to work rather than ask all these awkward questions?

‘What was the appeal of London?’

‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ I’m not making a very good job of keeping my tone light-hearted. I put the cup on the draining board. ‘Why have you ended up here in Rossway?’

Kerry shrugs. ‘Needed a change, I suppose.’

I look at him, holding his gaze for a moment before speaking. ‘So did I.’ There, hopefully that would be the end of that conversation. I’m not the only one who has a past that needs to stay in the past.

Kerry doesn’t blink as he looks back at me, the silvery flecks in his eyes for a moment don’t seem so glittery. He nods his head slightly as if understanding something.

‘Right, I suppose I’d better get over to the workshop and get on with my real job,’ he says, breaking the mini deadlock.

‘You won’t get into trouble, will you? Being here when you’re supposed to be working,’ I say, trying to regain some equanimity.

‘I can make the time up later – work through my break. It’s no big deal.’ Kerry puts his cup in the sink and heads for the door. ‘Are you on your own for the rest of the day?’

‘No, my sister’s coming in later for a while to help with the lunchtime rush. I’ll just have to close up on my own.’

‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’

I call after him through the serving hatch. ‘If you’re in for breakfast in the morning, it’s on the house, by way of a thank you.’

Kerry turns and, with what I can only describe as a cheeky grin, followed by an even cheekier wink, calls back to me, ‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement!’

*

Kerry wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his overalls. It was a hot day for May and working inside the poorly insulated workshop wasn’t pleasant. The air was still and the humidity high.

‘Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a storm coming,’ said Kerry.

‘You want a cuppa?’ asked Joe, putting down the spanner he had been using.

‘Got anything colder?’

Joe went over to the fridge in the corner of the workshop and opened the door.

‘Beer, water or can of Coke?’

‘A Coke will do,’ said Kerry. He stepped forward and caught the can that Joe chucked his way. ‘I’m going to sit outside for five minutes. You coming?’

Joe followed him out. Kerry plonked himself down on the back seat from an old car, which had long since been separated from the vehicle and abandoned in the far corner of the yard. Joe grabbed a wooden crate to perch on. Skip, Kerry’s little terrier dog, came trotting out of the workshop and jumped up onto the seat beside his owner.

As Kerry leaned back, grateful for the shade of the workshop, he glanced over at the service road, which ran along the back of Seahorse Café. His attention was caught by the sight of the willowy figure of Erin bringing out a bag of rubbish and lifting the big industrial lid of the wheelie bin to sling in the bag. Her chestnut hair, although tied back in a ponytail, seemed to shimmer down her back in the sunlight.

‘Aha! Caught you!’ At Joe’s jibe, Kerry snapped his head back to look at his cousin. Joe nodded in the direction of the café. ‘Admiring the scenery, were you?’

‘What’s that?’ said Max, coming out of the workshop and wandering over to them.

‘Kerry here, ogling the new waitress at the café. I think he’s got the hots for her.’

Very rarely did Kerry ever feel like punching his cousin. Today, however, was one of those occasions. Annoyed that he had, indeed, been caught looking at Erin, Kerry didn’t want to let on, otherwise he’d never hear the last of it. Instead, he made a great effort to keep his voice nonchalant as he replied. ‘What? Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’

Joe laughed and mimicked Kerry. ‘Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’ He turned to his dad. ‘Like he doesn’t know what her name is after hanging around the café for half an hour this morning, getting all hot and steamy in the kitchen.’

Max grinned at Kerry and raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so? You been rattling her pots and pans?’ Father and son laughed.

Standing up and squashing his cigarette under his foot, Kerry gave Joe a shove on the shoulder, sending him sprawling backwards off the upturned wooden crate. ‘That mouth of yours will get you in trouble one day.’

This seemed to fuel Joe’s laughter even more. He picked himself up and, righting his makeshift seat, settled himself back on it. ‘Touch a nerve, did I?’

Later Kerry was relieved to hear Joe down tools and announce he was finished for the day. Max had already gone and Kerry was left to lock up. He needed to get the bike he was working on ready for the customer to pick up in the morning.

Kerry wheeled the bike out into the rear yard and started the engine. Leaning over it, he revved the throttle several times, listening carefully to make sure the engine was firing properly. Then he left it to tick over for a few minutes, again listening for any stuttering in the rhythm of the rumble. At tick-over it chugged at a nice steady pace; no hesitation, no lumpiness.

After a few minutes he was satisfied everything was okay and, cutting the engine, took the bike back inside.

As he locked up the workshop doors, he glanced over to the café and suddenly fancied a coffee. Of course, he could simply go up to his flat and make a cup of instant, but that wasn’t the same as a freshly made Americano. What the heck? It was only a coffee.

Kerry gave his hands a quick look and determined them presentable enough, having managed to get most of the grease off and dirt out from under his nails.

‘Come on, Skip,’ he called to the little terrier. ‘Let’s get a coffee.’ He headed round to the front of the café. He had just taken hold of the handle when the door swung open and out bustled a very tired-looking Erin. She gave a little yelp of surprise.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,’ said Kerry, feeling a broad smile spread across his face. A few tendrils of hair had escaped from Erin’s ponytail and had curled slightly.

‘That’s all right,’ she replied, touching her hair, as if checking it was in place. ‘I was just about to close up. Did you want something? Please say no.’ She clasped her hands together as if in prayer.

‘In that case then, no?’ replied Kerry.

‘Is the right answer,’ Erin laughed, then added, ‘For God’s sake don’t tell my dad I’m turning away customers. He’ll have a fit.’ She moved round him and began stacking the outside seating.

‘Here, I’ll do that,’ said Kerry, taking hold of the chair Erin now had in her hands.

‘Tell you what, I’ll do the chairs and you do the tables.’ Erin gave the chair a little tug and then a much stronger one as Kerry realised he was still holding onto it. She raised her eyebrows slightly, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards.

Kerry shook himself mentally and, letting go of the chair, turned to focus on the bistro table instead.

‘So, how was your first day?’ he asked, carrying a table in behind Erin.

‘Not so bad in the end. It’s been really quiet this afternoon. Not sure if it’s always like this, but it was hardly worth being open.’ They put the furniture to one side.

‘It will probably pick up more in the summer, though,’ said Kerry, holding the door open so they could go back out and collect some more tables and chairs.

‘I suppose so. If it’s like this tomorrow, I might close early.’

‘When do you think you’ll go back to London?’ Kerry hoped he sounded only mildly interested.

‘I need to see how things go with my dad first,’ she said. ‘There’s still no change in his condition. The doctors were having a consultation amongst themselves today to decide the best way forward.’

‘Is that good or bad?’ asked Kerry, although he acknowledged it didn’t sound good.

She shrugged and looked as if she was struggling to find the right words for a moment. He watched her swallow hard and then look up at him. ‘I really couldn’t say.’

Kerry placed another table inside the café. He felt he should comfort her with a hug or soothing words, but he got the distinct impression Erin didn’t want a fuss made. He decided best to leave it. As he turned to get the last of the tables, he saw a familiar figure heading towards the café, their eyes fixed firmly on the back of Erin as she stacked the last few chairs

She wasn’t hard to track down. She was going to be one of three places. At the hospital. At her sister’s or here, at the café. It wasn’t like she had loads of friends to catch up with.

Roisin neared the café, her thoughts solely on Erin. It wouldn’t be so bad, but after what happened, Erin had no right to disappear and start a new life, washing her hands of her old one, just because it didn’t work out the way she wanted it. Got herself a rich boyfriend in London and thought she was the bee’s knees. Sure, she had barely been back here. What sort of daughter was she?

But, hey, look at her now, waiting on tables. Serves her right. Roisin was so looking forward to wiping that smug look off her face and making Erin admit to what she really did.

‘How the mighty fall.’

Kerry looked from her to Erin and back again. His eyes were wary. He clearly wasn’t sure how things stood between the two of them.

Erin put the chair down and turned to face Roisin. ‘Hello, Roisin. I’m sorry but the café’s closed now.’

Sure, she wasn’t sorry at all. Erin knew Roisin wasn’t here for a cosy catch-up over a one-shot-skinny-latte, or whatever it was she drank. Probably some detox green-leaf crap, knowing her.

‘I’m not here for a coffee,’ said Roisin. ‘I didn’t get a chance to speak to you before, not with me mam there.’

‘I’m a bit busy right now,’ said Erin, glancing back at Kerry.

‘You got yourself a new job?’ Roisin asked, looking at Kerry.

‘Just being neighbourly,’ said Kerry.

‘Clearly. So, in the spirit of being neighbourly, has Erin been telling you all our secrets?’

‘That sounds dangerous,’ said Kerry.

The trouble with Kerry, Roisin could never read him. He could be so deadpan at times. She didn’t care; it gave her another opportunity for a dig at Erin. Roisin quite liked the way Erin had that look of uncertainty in her eyes. She had no clue as to what Roisin might say next.

‘Secrets are always dangerous,’ said Roisin. ‘Aren’t they, Erin?’

‘I need to get on,’ said Erin, ignoring the comment.

‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ said Roisin. ‘Oh, meant to say, I got your text message…in the end.’

Erin looked up at her. ‘Good.’

‘It was too late, though,’ said Roisin, enjoying the doubt on Erin’s face. ‘Maybe we can catch up another time? There’s so much we need to talk about. Not least, why you did a disappearing act.’

‘It wasn’t a disappearing act.’ There was a snap in Erin’s voice and Roisin was rather pleased with herself. She had got the conversation to a place where she wanted it. A place Erin wasn’t happy to be: talking about her past. Erin turned her back on Roisin and picked up the last of the bistro tables. ‘I need to get finished here and go up to the hospital to see my dad.’

Before Roisin could reply, Kerry spoke. ‘Sorry, we must be holding you up. We’ll let you get on. Come on, Roisin, let’s go for a drink at The Smugglers.’ He whistled for Skip to follow.

Roisin went to protest, but Kerry took her elbow and whisked her away.

‘Sometimes, Kerry, you’re a proper gentleman,’ said Roisin, as she fell into step with him. ‘A drink is nice, although I’m not sure for whose benefit the offer is.’ She looked back over her shoulder and called out before Erin disappeared inside. ‘Don’t worry, Erin, there will be plenty of time for us to catch up. I’ll be in touch. Very soon.’