The slightly built man on the other side was momentarily startled. ‘Oh, um, hello. I’m Neil Peadon.’ Regan stifled a laugh at his inappropriate surname. ‘It’s about your Food Hygiene inspection—’
‘Shhh,’ Joanna cut him off. ‘There’s a night-shift firefighter asleep upstairs.’
‘Oh,’ said Neil Peadon, and he scribbled something on his pad. Joanna craned her neck to try to see; he pulled his clipboard close to his chest.
‘Here’s the kitchen,’ said Joanna. With a sweep of her marigold gloves she led him through.She’s staying, then, thought Regan.Just what I need.
‘Righty-o,’ said Neil. Joanna followed him into the kitchen closer than his shadow. ‘Let’s start with your food hygiene certificate and product.’
Regan rummaged in her bag, passed him the two jars and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, which she tried to flatten out a bit on the worktop before she handed to him. He studied them all closely, before ticking something on his clipboard.
With every surface he checked, Joanna’s eyebrows got a fraction higher. He studied the sink, checked the taps and jotted more things down. ‘Waste disposal?’ he asked.
Joanna pointed at the bin. Neil pursed his lips and Regan stepped forward. ‘I take everything away with me and dispose of it properly. I’m recycling the fruit and vegetable peelings for compost.’ Neil gave a brief smile and wrote this down.
‘Refrigeration facilities?’
Joanna opened what looked like a cupboard and revealed the fridge. Regan scooted over to it and she and Neil looked inside – it was virtually empty. ‘Most of my produce will be used same day so won’t need to be refrigerated, but if it does I will use these trays.’ Regan pulled out two spotless salad trays at the bottom of the fridge. Joanna nodded her approval and the small gesture buoyed Regan’s confidence.
‘Fire prevention?’ asked Neil.
Regan faltered. ‘Um …’
‘Fire blanket,’ said Joanna, pointing to a small packet on the wall. ‘And extinguisher,’ she added, opening the cupboard under the sink. ‘My son’s a firefighter,’ she added, proudly.
‘Excellent,’ said Neil. ‘Thermometer?’
Joanna looked at Regan. She scrabbled in her bag and produced the gift Penny had given her earlier. ‘Thermometer,’ she said, holding it aloft triumphantly.
‘Righty-o. That all seems in order. We’ll confirm in writing, but all that remains is to wish you the very best with your venture,’ said Neil Peadon.
‘Thank you,’ said Regan and Joanna together.
‘I’ll see myself out.’
As the door clicked shut, Regan gave a fist pump. ‘Get in!’
‘Shhh,’ said Joanna, putting a finger to her smiling lips.
‘Thank you. You were brilliant,’ said Regan, lowering her voice.
‘I’m rather pleased the kitchen passed the council’s food hygiene examination.’ Joanna preened herself in a self-congratulatory fashion. ‘Is this what you’re making?’ She picked up one of the jars. ‘Plum and Cardamom?’
‘Unusual flavours is my USP.’
‘My grandmother used to make pear and lavender jam.’
‘Blimey,’ said a sleepy Beanstalk, appearing in the doorway. ‘That sounds more like air freshener.’ Joanna whacked him with her marigolds.
It all started to feel very real when Regan found herself with a choice of stall locations. Bernice was tapping a clipboard impatiently, but Regan felt this needed carefulconsideration. The first pitch was by the Ditchling Road entrance, which she really liked because it was nearer to the green area called The Level and the coffee shop, although Bernice had already pointed out that she might want to consider buying her coffee from the market café from now on. The other stall would be at the far end nearer to London Road, but also nearer to the grocery stall and handy for the loos, which would be useful.
‘It’s clearly a far bigger decision than I envisaged,’ said Bernice, with a huff.
‘Sorry,’ said Regan, feeling pressured.
‘Hiya,’ said Malcolm from the bread stall as he strolled past.
‘Malcolm – which do you think?’ asked Regan. ‘I’ve got to choose a stall location.’
