‘Yep,’ she murmurs with the tiniest of nods.
She’s young enough to be my daughter, yet she has no life in her. Her posture is hunched. She appears awkward, uncomfortable; I sense she wants to take up as little space as possible. The oversized hoody isn’t worn for fashion or warmth; it’s a blanket to hide under.
‘Would you like a biscuit?’ I ask.
She refuses, but Jane takes one.
‘So, what kind of things do you like to cook, Lauren?’ Nina asks, her tone patient, kind.
‘Anything.’ She shrugs, fidgeting with her pale fingers, crunching her knuckles.
‘Holly needs some help in the kitchen, she makes the puddings. Do you like baking?’
She nods.
Nina proceeds to tell Lauren how the café works and why it’s so important not to waste food. She doesn’t appear deterred by Lauren’s monosyllabic responses. On Nina goes, talking about the various volunteer roles that need filling. There are never enough people to help clear up, or she always needs a friendly face to meet and greet, which I feel is optimistic, even for Nina. ‘But it sounds as if you enjoy cooking? Jane tells me you’ve worked in a few cafés before?’ Nina pursues.
Lauren nods again.
‘Do you smoke?’ Angus asks her.
‘Angus,’ Nina says, before apologising to Jane, but Lauren’s head shoots up. ‘Oh yeah.’ At last, I notice her dark brown eyes that contrast vividly to her pale blotchy skin that looks as if it hasn’t seen any sunlight for years. Self-consciously, she tucks a strand of dyed blonde hair behind a tiny ear, pierced with a couple of studs and silver hoop earrings.
‘Fancy one now?’ Angus asks. ‘If you don’t mind?’ He looks at both Nina and Jane.
‘She won’t go with you,’ Jane replies.
Clearly, she underestimates Angus.
‘Sure she will, won’t you, Lauren? Come on. We can have a chat outside, get to know one another, watch the world go by.’
Jane watches in astonishment as Lauren follows Angus outside. Clearly, she underestimated her too. Lauren looks tiny alongside Angus, she can’t be much taller than five foot, whereas Angus is over six foot and towers above her.
‘All she does is stay in her bedroom,’ Jane tells us, compassion in her voice.
Discreetly we watch them through the glass doors. Lauren produces a packet of tobacco from her tracksuit pocket and proceeds to roll up a cigarette.
‘How long’s she been at the night-shelter?’ Nina asks.
‘A week. They encourage residents to go out during the day, but Lauren has no job and she doesn’t have any friends. I thought being here could give her some structure. I know it’s just for one day a week, but if she enjoyed it, it might encourage her to find other work. The poor kid, she’s only nineteen, but she’s had enough misery to last a lifetime.’
Nina nods. ‘If she can cook, I’m happy to give her a chance.’
‘Thank you,’ Jane says. ‘I’m not sure she’s going to say yes or stick at it, but let’s at least give it a go.’
‘Exactly. Why don’t I give her a trial run, say six weeks,’ suggests Nina, ‘and Holly and Angus can keep a close eye on her, right? Holly, would you be happy if she gave you a hand? We usually have two people on pudding duty.’
‘Yes, totally,’ I say, disguising my anxiety.
‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a custard cream?’ Angus asks Lauren, when they return to the table. ‘Or some leftovers? Holly’s pudding was delicious. What do they feed you at the shelter?’
‘Lasagne. Pasta.’ She turns down the biscuits and offer of leftover pudding, which is lucky as there is none left.
‘What’s your bedroom like?’ Angus goes on.
‘Fine.’
‘Which night-shelter are you in?’
