Jamie. ‘His chat-up line was he could burp the entire alphabet if I liked. I don’t think romance is on his mind. I think his life’s messy right now.’
‘We all have baggage.’
‘Mine’s first class.’
‘What does he do?’
‘I don’t think he does anything. I get the impression he was kicked out of home.’
‘How come?’
I tell her how he’d slept at the café the night before and that he’d also mentioned staying with Scottie.If you knew what I did you wouldn’t be talking to me right now or ever again for that matter.
‘Affair?’
‘Maybe. But to be honest, he’s not looking that hot. He smelled as if he’d just crawled out of a pub.’
‘Children?’
‘Think so.’
‘Good looking? If he didn’t stink of smoke and booze?’
I have to smile. Milla can’t help herself. ‘Maybe, but probably because he’s outgoing,’ I weigh up. ‘Confident. Well, heseemsconfident.’
‘He sounds interesting.’
‘He was kind,’ I reflect, recalling him helping me prepare the fruit salad as I was running out of time. I also saw him talking to some of the older café-goers, helping them find a free seat and making sure they were comfortable. And if there was anyone who looked lost or sad or friendless, he introduced them to some of the regulars and I could see how quickly he lit up peoples’ faces. Like Jamie, he’s able to put people at ease, and make them smile, which is a gift.
‘How old is he?’
‘Late forties.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Milla!’ I roll my eyes. ‘I’m not lookingfor love.’
Milla doesn’t want to hear that I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to meet someone else; she certainly doesn’t want to be reminded how hard it is to move on.
‘I know,’ she says quietly, before placing the spaghetti into a large pan of boiling water.
I glance at her fridge, covered in family photographs. Milla met Dave at university. Milla is a radiologist; Dave is now an anaesthetist. They were both medics but he had the great advantage of being in the year above. Milla always joked, said she never had the chance to ‘sow her wild oats’ because he was her first serious boyfriend, ‘and annoyingly I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else,’ she’d said. ‘How dull is that?’ My eyes rest on a picture of them standing on a beach, Dave’s arm around her shoulder, the two of them smiling. It’s a picture of what a happy marriage should look like. Noticing how they still look at one another, after twenty-odd years, is the opposite of dull.
‘But at some point, Holly, and I’m not saying with Angus,’ she adds, ‘you might feel ready to, you know…’ She turns to me, hope in her eyes. All she wants is for me to be happy again, and I love her deeply for that.
‘Maybe,’ I say, to give her that hope. ‘You never know.’
4
The following weekend, I arrive at the café at ten o’clock. Being on pudding duty, I don’t need to start as early as Scottie and Monika. The kitchen is crowded, Scottie barking orders to Monika to hurry up with the tomatoes for the pasta. She doesn’t flinch, which suggests she’s used to his charming prima donna ways. I see a heap of butternut squash, spinach and cheese on the worktop, Scottie rolling out pastry on a floured surface. I slot into my space, by the hatch doors that open out into the dining room. Angus is sitting on the other side of the hatch, preparing the cutlery with Tom. He’s dressed in jeans and a similar checked shirt, drinking his usual gallon of coffee. It’s like déjà vu, except Tom seems morose today.
‘He’s cross because Scottie won’t let him in the kitchen,’ Angus informs me, catching my eye and smiling.
Scottie ignores Angus. ‘Monika, wake me up when you’re done.’
‘Fuck off,’ she replies in her strong Polish accent. I turn to her, impressed.
‘I’m not scared of him, Holly. He’s a mouse,’ she sighs, just as Tom walks into the kitchen.
