‘Tom, out!’ Scottie roars like a lion.
‘I want to kill myself,’ Tom mumbles as he shuffles out of the kitchen.
‘Don’t worry, he says that all the time,’ Angus whispers in my direction.
But I am worrying. If anyone could hear our conversation. This job should come with a health warning. I scan the ingredients on the counter. Strawberries, peaches, ricotta cheese, eggs… maybe pavlova and cheesecake, and some fresh strawberries with a mint cream. ‘Tom, do you like cooking?’ I ask, hoping to cheer him up.
No answer. ‘What’s your favourite meal?’
No answer.
‘Mine’s roast chicken.’
‘Frankfurters,’ Tom says, erupting into laughter.
‘Too much talking, not enough chopping!’ says Nina, rushing in and out of the kitchen. ‘Get to work, all of you. Especially you, Tom. I love a hot dog too,’ she adds with a wink.
The café isn’t as crowded as last week, about forty people come and go. There seem to be a few newcomers since I overheard Nina ask their name, and which support services they used, before asking Nigel, who always turns up on his scooter early, if he could show them the menu and tell them how the café worked. ‘It’s nice to be useful at my age,’ he’d said to me, taking his role very seriously.
By three o’clock we’ve eaten lunch and cleared up. As Angus and I are finishing washing up, two women enter the building, one considerably shorter than the other, dressed in a grey tracksuit, hoody and trainers; the taller one models a navy skirt and daisy-patterned blouse, and carries a file.
‘Hello Jane, and you must be Lauren!’ Nina says, welcoming them inside. ‘Take a seat.’ She gestures to the coffee table, close to the kitchen, away from the main dining hall area. ‘I’ll be with you in two ticks. Would you like a tea or coffee?’
‘I’d love a coffee, thanks,’ replies Jane.
‘Lauren?’ Nina waits.
I’d need ears sharp as a pin to have heard her reply, if she made one.
‘Coming up,’ replies Nina, joining Angus and me in the kitchen. ‘I forgot to mention this earlier,’ she says quietly, ‘but Lauren might do some work experience here.’ She gestures to the young woman, who’s sitting, head down, tapping her foot repeatedly against the floor.
‘Crikey, she couldn’t looklessinterested,’ Angus murmurs.
‘She’s nervous, that’s all,’ Nina rebukes, taking off her apron and chucking it at him. Nina’s wearing a pale grey T-shirt under dungarees, and her dark hair is tied up in a loose bun which is held together by a pencil, clearly her trademark look. ‘Two coffees with milk, one with two sugars. If you have a moment, come and meet her, make her feel welcome,’ she suggests.
‘Your coffees are coming up,’ Nina says when she returns to the table. ‘We have two other keen volunteers here, Angus and Holly. Are you happy to meet them?’ she asks Lauren. ‘You can ask them a few questions?’
‘We’ll tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,’ Angus calls out as we assemble the mugs and a plate of custard creams on to a tray before joining them.
‘We’d love to meet some of the volunteers,’ Jane replies for Lauren. ‘Wouldn’t we? Lauren?’
‘Uh-huh,’ she says to the floor.
‘Hi,’ I say, sitting down opposite her. I imagine Lauren must be hot in a hoody, given it’s a day for sunbathing. ‘I’ve only been here for two weeks so I’m new too,’ I say, hoping this might reassure her.
Nina hands Lauren her coffee with two sugars. ‘I always need volunteers, so why do you want to work here?’
Angus and I glance at one another. I’m feeling the pressure for Lauren to reply, and wondering if our presence makes it even more intimidating for her.
‘Tell her, Lauren,’ Jane says gently, ‘tell her what you said to me earlier today.’
There’s another painful silence.
‘I’m not surprised you’re lost for words,’ Angus says. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t want to work withus. I’d make a run for it, while you still can.’
She looks up at him, and I catch a glimpse of a pale face, before she looks down again.
‘Lauren said her dream job was to be a chef, didn’t you?’ Jane continues, not sure what to make of Angus, before thanking us for the coffee.
