Dave hesitated. For a moment she flinched at the thought that she’d tactlessly overstepped the mark. Just then she noticed his body sag. He really needs to unload, she realised, glancing around the floor and checking that everyone was taken care of for the moment. She felt him close to tears.
‘Awful. They’re keeping Fia in – she’s to spend the rest of her pregnancy in hospital, lying on her back. She’s OK, though, and so is the baby, thank God. I’ll be in and out so I’m going to need you guys to cover for me. Ally, consider yourself temporary assistant manager.’
‘Of course, Dave, I’d be happy to help. Anything you need, just let me know.’
Wow, a week in the job and she’d already been promoted. It didn’t sound like the post was likely to involve any extra money, but still, she’d a sense of them being a little team. She wasn’t just a cog in the machine – like it or not, in The Owl’s Nest everyone was essential.
Just then the door swung open again and the retirees Christie and Noel piled in. ‘We’ve got a job doing some tour guiding,’ announced Noel. ‘We start at nine thirty. So, we’re treating ourselves to an Irish breakfast roll in advance, for energy.’
‘And we’ll be all set for the pint at lunchtime!’ added Christie.
‘All voluntary, you know!’
‘Well done, lads. I’m proud of you. Take these on the house,’ said Dave warmly, making up their order. Ally caught Evelyn rolling her eyes behind his back. Dave was a great guy, but God, he was a hopeless businessman.
There was no sign of Pete. With a pang of worry, Ally thought of him and his little dog sleeping in the van. It seemed so incongruous – the very thought of it made her angry. But therewas no time to brood, as a steady stream of customers trooped in all morning, ordering brunches, eggs Benedict, eggs Florentine or avocado on toast with crispy bacon. For the apartment dwellers of the neighbourhood, Saturday was the day when somebody else did the cooking.
At twelve thirty, Ally heard a voice from behind her. ‘Excuse me, could I have a full Irish with a pint of curry sauce and a deep-fried Snickers?’
She turned to see a familiar face staring at her.
‘Piss off, Rosemarie,’ she muttered, trying not to laugh. Then she replied in a theatrically severe voice, ‘Sorry, madam, we’re not that type of establishment. You’ll have to take your hangover elsewhere.’
‘Girl, look at you. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were cool.’ Suddenly, Rosemarie’s face brightened. ‘Who’s that?’
Ally turned to see Pete mooching in from the back, his hair still damp, looking like he’d come straight from the gym shower.
‘Is that—?’
‘Yes,’ Ally hissed. ‘Now stop gawking at him like he’s a chocolate éclair.’
Pete eyed the two of them with a side smile and shook his head. Rosemarie eyed him with forensic attention.
‘Seriously, though, this place is cosy. I can imagine looking for a job here when I’ve peaked at Celtic Concrete and need somewhere a bit more zen.’
‘Just give me your damn order before the boss comes out. Do you want to get me fired?’
‘Don’t tempt me,ha! That’d be two jobs in a fortnight.’
Ally made a throat-sawing gesture at her to shut up, so Rosemarie just roared an order of eggs Benedict and a skinny latte, extra loudly to prove she was serious.
‘So, Pete the Pal?’ she hissed giving a not-very-subtle eyeroll in the direction of Pete’s back.
Ally nodded. ‘Sit down, will you. And stop staring at his back.’
‘Why? He’s not looking.’
‘Even animals know if they’re being stared at. It creeps them out.’
Rosemarie raised an eyebrow and headed for a table, while Ally busied herself with the order, when a familiar voice from behind made her heart flip.
‘Ally?’
Dave was flat-out busy so all she could do was turn around slowly.
He hadn’t changed in the months since she’d seen him.
‘Francis!How are you doing?’
