‘Dave .?.?. er, sorry .?.?. d’you need a hand?’
He looked confused but then an expression of relief crossed his face. ‘Hell’s bells, yeah, just get in here. I’ll tell you what to do. You do food, I’ll do barista.’
Ally hadn’t worked in a café since she was a teenager. Still, she could have a go .?.?.
She grabbed an apron off a hook and pulled it on like armour, already feeling a tiny bit like staff, then turned to face ten or so irate-looking customers.
‘Right, who’s first?’ She beamed.
A burly-looking man, who looked like he had just had a hard morning working on the building site down the road and wasn’t in the humour for hanging about, glared at her. He ordered a sausage ciabatta with all the trimmings, and he’d been there ten minutes already. Ally looked down at the bewildering array of prepared ingredients in front of her and suddenly panicked. What sort of eejit was she, thinking she could just dive into this?
At least she recognised ciabatta – that was a start – then looked round desperately at Dave, who suddenly seemed to morph into a cross between Jamie Oliver and a rapid-fire auctioneer as he launched into a barrage of instructions.
‘First, big wipe of pesto, slice your herb sausage, handful of roasted tomato, handful of caramelised onions, sauce on top, don’t overdo it, into the sandwich maker. Bang. Five minutes. Next customer .?.?. chop-chop.’
Her next customer was a fussy-looking lady with allergies, who wanted to be reassured that vegan meant nothing in her sandwich had even passed an animal at high speed.
‘Right, gluten-free bread, pesto, scatter of roasted red pepper, dollop of hummus, wallop of mashed avocado, spring onion, scatter of coriander, squeeze of lemon.’ Bang. Go. ‘Next.’
The following couple of hours passed in a blur. As each order was called in, Dave would give her a barrage of instructions. It was kind of like having satnav in the kitchen.
The meals she was passing out might have looked a bit rough and ready, but they were good enough and nobody complained. After what felt like a long stretch of constant buttering, slapping and layering, she looked up. The big schoolhouse clock on the opposite wall showed 2.20 p.m. and the queue had finally dispersed. She looked at Dave and they both exhaled.
Her wrist was aching, and she was covered in mayonnaise and a selection of sauces; her face was shining from the heat of the grill, but at least nobody had stomped out angrily to leave a one-star review on TripAdvisor.
‘Who’s the new girl?’ called a flamboyant-looking bearded customer sitting at a table in the corner. ‘She’s good, you can keep her,’ he added.
I’m so new I haven’t even got a bloody job, she thought, as between herself and Dave they cleared the tables, which looked more like the scene of a food fight than a lunchtime rush. They’d held the show together, but only just.
He looked at her. ‘I don’t suppose you’re looking for a job?’
This really wasn’t what Ally had planned for her future career path, but hey, she wasn’t exactly being swamped with better options.
‘Funny, as it happens, I’ve recently become available.’
‘Great. Can you start tomorrow at half eight? I don’t need a reference, I’ve seen what you can do. Gotta go. Could you do me a favour and cover the last few minutes? Pete can lock up.’
Dave seemed to move in a blur of activity which included handing her fifty euros in cash on the way out the door; as it closed behind him, he called back with a grin, ‘Oh and you can hang on to the book!’
Ally realised that, in her enthusiasm to help out, she’dabandonedLove Linkson the table in full view. She might as well have had a tattoo on her forehead saying ‘desperate loveless female’.
Just then she heard a deep voice behind her. ‘Fair play .?.?.’
‘Sorry?’
‘That could’ve been a total shitshow without you. He’d have had to close.’
She turned to find Mr T-shirt meticulously packing his tools into a purpose-built box.
‘I’m back in tomorrow morning,’ she said, wiping the last few tables and feeling quite proud. Somewhere over the course of a lunchtime she’d gone from being Nobody to being Somebody and it felt, well .?.?. warm.
‘Oh yeah?’ He glanced up at her with a smile but was focused on disassembling his drill and packing the pieces away, each in their perfect place, so she had a chance to examine him in safety. He had a tanned complexion with fine creases round the eyes and a scattering of masonry dust in his hair. As he stood up to go, she felt him focus on the side of her cheek. ‘You’ve got a bit of .?.?.’
Pete gestured at her and for a second, she thought he was going to reach out and touch her face but he stopped himself just in time.
She realised it was a sizeable blob of mayonnaise that must have flipped in the chaos and could’ve been there for hours. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious.
‘I must look a total shambles, I didn’t even have time to go to the loo .?.?.’
