‘I prefer Holly!’ I call after her, watching as she leaves the room with an actual spring in her step. I watch her moving from one table to another with a speed I didn’t know she possessed. I’m not sure she knew she had it in her either. If I have any chance of winning this competition, I need to step it up a gear, I think, pouring the sponge mixture into my loaf tins, before placing it in the oven, and deciding to do a quick run to the loo, not that I need to go, and then a quick run upstairs to the office, and a few star jumps by the printer, for good measure.
Finally, it’s time to sit down and enjoy what’s left over from lunch. The café was packed, about eighty people turned up today. Lauren and Angus were taking the step count competition to the extreme, serving up at any opportunity, encouraging visitors to have seconds, refilling water jugs constantly, and racing round tables, placing small silver jugs of cream on each. I, on the other hand, stayed in the kitchen and helped stack plates into the dishwasher. I also discovered that a four-pint bottle of semi-skimmed milk is an excellent substitute for a weight. Who knew serving up tea and coffee could be such a good way to tone my arms? I catch Angus’s eye as Lauren tucks into a whole bowl of fresh fruit salad, refusing cream. She also tried some of Scottie’s lemon courgette pasta, saying it wasn’t as gross as she thought it might be.
‘Thanks, I think,’ Scottie had replied, enjoying the change in Lauren’s healthy appetite.
‘But I’m not trying your cake, Holly,’ she says earnestly. ‘Courgette and cake, they ain’t friends, they’re like cats and dogs.’
Everyone laughs.
‘You should always try something once, Lauren,’ Angus suggests, ‘otherwise you never know.’
‘Would you lie in a coffin full of snakes?’ Lauren challenges him, before confiding thatI’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!is one of her favourite programmes. I notice, as she speaks, she isn’t tapping her leg up and down. Nor is she staring at the floor. She’s looking at us.
‘I’d probably only do that if I was paida lotof money.’
‘Hang on, didn’t you say you should always try something once, Angus?’ Lauren rebukes him.
I’m not the only person to notice she’s a different person today. She’s not only sitting round the table, she’s found her own voice, and her place, with us.
Nina tells us we have a new volunteer coming today, Max. He’s here to help us clear the tables and clean the floors. Soul Food has teamed up with a private school in west London; they’ve agreed to lend out some of their boys during the summer holidays. As their school is a charity, they have to do voluntary work for their status. ‘Uh-oh, he’s back.’ Nina gestures to Craig, approaching the front door.
‘I’m not drunk,’ he says, holding up his hands as if he comes in peace. ‘I went for a walk, blew away the cobwebs. But I’m still fucking angry.’
Nina grabs Craig by the arm and forces him to sit down and explain.
Craig is angry because a copper, someone new to the area, gave him a lecture about getting off the streets yesterday, thinking he was doing him a favour, but it came across as patronising. ‘I like my life. I’m not doing anyoneanyharm,’ he claims, and I can see his point, especially when he adds, ‘Go and arrest the real criminals, the murderers and rapists. Who’s this?’
Max walks in tentatively, tall and lanky, wearing jeans and a white crew neck T-shirt with the Ralph Lauren logo, fine blond hair and an angelic face.
‘He’s helping out,’ Nina says, waving him over. ‘Hi Max, come and meet everyone!’
‘Max?’
‘Don’t make a scene, Craig,’ Nina insists.
‘You replacing me withMax?’ Craig stands up and faces the teenager square on.
‘No one’s replacing you,’ Angus calls through the hatch. Lauren stands close by his side.
The colour drains from Max’s cheeks as he backs away from Craig, no doubt wondering what the hell his school have signed him up for.
‘You’re here to help, are you?’ Craig says, his bad mood continuing to project on to this poor innocent kid.
‘Max, ignore him, Craig, stop it,’ Nina orders.
But Craig has no intention of stopping it. ‘Well, go on then, make us a coffee, Max.’
Max stares at him blankly.
‘Black, one sugar. There’s a good boy.’
I turn to Nina. ‘Max, I tell you what, while you are here,’ she says, ‘if you could make Craig a strong black coffee that would be great. The kitchen’s there,’ she adds, gesturing to Angus and Lauren through the hatch. ‘They’ll show you where everything is.’ He stands, limply, clearly unsure how to place one foot in front of the other, let alone make a cup of coffee.
‘Too posh to make a cup of coffee, are you?’ Craig says.
‘I don’t know how,’ he murmurs, head down.
‘You don’t know how?’ Craig repeats. ‘Blimey. You’ve never made coffee before?’
