‘It’s fine.’ I wave vaguely towards the car park, trying my damnedest to keep it together. ‘I need to go.’ And before I’m overcome with tears, I jog away from them all.
I know Reeni said I shouldn’t write that council letter, but this is one occasion when I won’t be taking her advice. I’ll definitely be finishing and sending that letter, because I don’t know how else to save myself and my café, and appealing to Jackson’s better nature has been an utter disaster.
Chapter Four
‘Two flat whites to go, please.’
‘More new customers,’ says Jill under her breath, leaning over my shoulder as I make the coffee order. ‘Has anyone sent in a photo yet?’
‘No. At least I don’t think so. Reeni is keeping an eye on that for me.’ I screw up my nose. I did think that we’d have had at least one entry by now, but maybe I was being too optimistic. I move the full cup and place an empty one in its place on the coffee machine drip tray.
‘Don’t give up. It’s only been four or five days,’ says Jill with an encouraging nudge.
I take the fulfilled order and hand it to the young couple at the till. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard. We’re running a competition for the rest of June.’ I gesture to the A4 laminated sheet printed out with the photo competition details taped to the countertop. ‘Free coffees and a chance to have your photo on the walls for thewinner.’ I exaggerate my smile. Overtly selling has never been my strong point.
‘Yeah. It came up on our Insta feed,’ says the lad. ‘Look out for our photo.’ He raises his cup and they both wander back out into the sunshine.
‘See.’ Jill is doing little bunny-hops on the spot. ‘It’s working.’
‘Six new customers in a week are hardly mind blowing.’ I plonk myself down on the till stool. The envelope addressed to the council in my handwriting is poking out from under the till, waiting for a stamp. I ignore the niggling guilt that I should try to talk to Milo again and push the envelope back out of sight.
‘Stop being a negative Nelly. It’s six new customers we didn’t have last week. And our coffee is the best around. Word will spread. The camper coffee is rank.’
I shoot her a look. ‘And you would know this how?’
‘Ted wanted to try out their waffle cone sundaes.’ She looks a bit sheepish. ‘But I did think it was a good chance to suss out the competition.’
‘Was it still busy?’
Jill winces. ‘It always seems to be when I walk past.’
I already knew the answer to that question, seeing as I’ve ventured to the library twice this week with my baseball cap pulled low over my face. Milo has always been too busy serving to see me and thankfully Jackson had been nowhere in sight.
I walk over to the corner of the café to get one last look at the table I’ve set up for my parents’ wedding anniversary afternoon tea. They’re coming down from their home in the Lake District to spend a couple of nights in a hotel on the coast and they’re calling in to say hi on the way. This is my surprise for them.
It looks beautiful. The table is set with my prettiest floral mismatched china cups, saucers and plates along with crisp white linen napkins and a lit tealight glowing in a petite green glass lantern. To finish it off, I’ve picked some wildflowers andput them in a tiny, ribbed glass vase. I know Mum will love it and I’m hoping Dad will too, although I doubt it. Half of me is gutted that the café is still empty after our social media ‘campaign’. If it was busy, Dad might not have found anything to complain about and might even have thought I was doing a good job. The other half of me is relieved it’s empty. At least that way when I get the inevitable criticism, my customers won’t be able to hear me get an embarrassing dressing-down.
Bang on time, as I knew Dad would be, they walk through the door.
‘Oh Ellie, it’s so lovely to see you.’ Mum envelops me in a hug, her sickly sweet perfume filling the room. Dad buys her the same one every year, his only Christmas present to her, and it immediately transports me back to living at home and the unhappy memories that are tethered to that time.
I try not to breathe in as I squeeze her back.
‘Not very busy in here, is it?’ Dad says, a line deepening between his bushy grey eyebrows.
Great, it’s taken him all of 3.2 seconds to find fault.
‘I thought you’d prefer exclusive use of the facilities,’ I joke, giving him my best sparkly smile.
‘Hmm.’ He’s still looking around him, disapproval written all over his features.
‘It’s the late afternoon slump, Dad. Anyway …’ I swing around, flying my arms in the direction of their table. ‘Ta-dah. Happy anniversary.’ I look at Mum and to her credit, her whole face lights up.
‘Oh, this is wonderful, love. Isn’t it, John?’
Dad grunts under his breath and tension bites into my shoulders. Why can I never do anything right?
‘I kept it inside, Dad. I know you don’t like eating outside because of the flies.’ There’s a needy pitch to my voice like a child seeking approval. ‘And I made your favourite sandwiches. Roastbeef, English mustard and no butter.’ I pull out a chair from the table to encourage them to sit. ‘Tuna and cucumber for you, Mum.’
