The old Holly is buried inside me. Somehow, I will find her again.
6
It’s my sixth weekend at the café, and I’m beginning to feel more at home. I’m determined not to feel anxious about Lauren, that’s if she turns up today. It’s fifty-fifty. She didn’t show up last Saturday, or the Saturday before that because she had a stomach bug. ‘Convenient how these bugs turn up when you need to get out of bed,’ Nina had said to me, close to suggesting to Jane, her support worker, that this might not work. She needs her volunteers to be reliable.
Part of me wants Lauren to show up today. I feel this is her last chance. I can’t shake off what Jane said, that while Lauren is nineteen, she’s had enough misery to last her a lifetime. I want her to know that while life can deal us a shit hand of cards, there has to be a reason to carry on. I know our lives are incomparable, but perhaps I want to prove it to her, so I can prove it to myself too.
When I arrive, I’m immediately welcomed by the familiar smell of Sander’s fresh cinnamon buns which are in the kitchen, by the hatch. Scottie and Monika have arrived, and Simona and her carer are arranging carnations into vases. Tom is sitting at the small table on the other side of the kitchen hatch polishing the cutlery, a job he takes seriously. He dips individual pieces of cutlery into a basin of water, before drying them off rigorously with a tea towel, and assembling them into clean pots which are placed on each table.
I head straight for the buns, no time to waste. I don’t eat breakfast at home anymore, I want to save my appetite for Sander’s baking. As I take a bite, the pastry melts in my mouth, it’s so warm, buttery, fluffy, with this delicious cream cheese frosting sprinkled with dark sugar. Oh my God. It’s better than sex. I’m tempted to have another. While no one’s looking I grab one more. I see Sander drinking a mug of tea in the dining room. He’s quiet, seemingly tuned out from Tom’s singing and the general bustle going on all around him. Normally he doesn’t stay at the café for long. He brings the buns and leaves. I decide that for once I’m going to talk to him.
‘Sander, thank you,’ I say, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him. ‘Your pastries are the best thing I’ve ever tasted.’
He shrugs. ‘I can tell.’ He points to the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain on me.
I smile as I wipe my sugar-coated lips. ‘You must get up at the crack of dawn to make them.’ Why do I always sound like my mother when I’m nervous?
‘I’ve never been a sleeper, Holly. I’m lucky if I get a couple of hours.’
‘Two hours.You must be so tired,’ I say, stating the obvious.
‘I’m used to it. Prison didn’t help. The lights were always on. If you think the café is noisy.’ He shakes his head with another wry smile and strokes his beard. Somehow, I can’t imagine he could ever commit a crime. But what does an ex-prisoner look like? A big, muscled skinhead? Sander’s demeanour is soft, kind; he looks as if the slightest breeze could knock him down. I’m beginning to realise labels don’t always tell the truth.
Sander has a disarming stare that makes me feel self-conscious. Does he think I’m privileged? Unworldly? Yet I sense he doesn’t judge me at all. I’m the only one here worried about how I come across to him.
‘You’re enjoying it here, Holly?’
‘Loving it. And you? It must be good to be out?’ I ask tentatively.
‘Sometimes I wish I was back.’ He shakes his head, his aura sad, lost, confused. ‘Prison felt safe. It’s the outside world that’s such a frightening place.’
‘All right?’ says Nina, rushing to our table, hair loose, a pencil resting behind one ear. She’s wearing khaki combats today, with a white T-shirt and trendy trainers.
‘All good,’ I say, still thinking about what Sander just said.
‘You can look after Lauren, right?’ She hands me a medium-sized apron for her.
‘She’s here?’ I’m jolted back to reality.
Nina gestures to the door. Lauren has arrived with Angus. She looks as if she’s literally crawled out of bed, but she’s here. Remember what Harriet said. I worked for Clarissa Pope. I can work with a teenager. I can doanything.
‘Let me know how she gets on,’ Nina says to me, before tapping Sander on the shoulder. ‘Thanks for the buns, you’re an angel.’ She rushes off. It’s no wonder she’s slim, she barely stays in one spot for too long.
‘Tom likes the cutlery to shine like the stars,’ I overhear Angus saying to Lauren. ‘Look, it’s Holly and Sander,’ Angus says, waving at us.
Lauren’s wearing a baggy leopard-print T-shirt tucked into an equally baggy black tracksuit bottom.
I hand Lauren her apron, introducing her to Sander, before asking if she’d like to help me in the kitchen. It’s a silly, nervous question, because what else is she going to do? She doesn’t say a word, but follows closely behind me. As we enter, Scottie crashes into her by mistake. It’s hard not to bump into one another in such a confined space. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, darting out of her way. It seems as if he’s as apprehensive as I am about having our new volunteer in the kitchen. I haven’t once heard him say sorry to anyone.
‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it,’ she mutters.
‘Right, what have we got here?’ I stand at our counter, my nerves still a mess. Dried cranberries. My least favourite fruit. ‘D’you need a hand with your apron?’
‘No.’ She backs away from me quickly.
‘Right. Cranberries, a lot of cranberries,’ I mutter. ‘White chocolate buttons. Great. It’s not a children’s party. Is that it?’
‘We’ve got a ton of frozen fruit,’ Nina says, rushing in and out of the kitchen like a whirlwind. ‘Could do a summer pudding? They gave us loads ’cos it’s close to going out of date so we want to use it today if we can,’ she calls.
