GREG:Do you need help setting up?
GREG:Is everything alright?
GREG:Call me when you see this.
My stomach dips.
‘I thought something was wrong when I didn’t hear from you,’ he says, hurt stinging his eyes as if I’ve let him down.
‘I’ve just been busy that’s all,’ I say, frustrated at him. I didn’t ignore him on purpose.
He nods, his smile back. ‘No worries. Can I grab a coffee?’
‘Coming up. I didn’t know you were coming.’ I’m surprised as I wouldn’t have thought a fun day was quite his thing and he never said a thing about being here.
‘It’s a great cause. My nan spent her last few days in a hospice …’
I turn back to him. Piping-hot coffee in my hand. ‘Do you want sugar?’
‘… they were amazing.’
Crap, he’s been talking, and I wasn’t listening. ‘Who were?’
‘Ah, don’t worry.’ He picks up one of the prepackaged cheese-and-ham sandwiches. ‘I’ll take one of these and a cookie. And if you could box up a bit of cheesecake, a slice of Victoria sponge and one of the chocolate, and I’ll have a couple of brownies. That’d be great. I’ll keep them for breaks later in the week. Oh, and I’ll have a bottle of water too.’
I smile at him gratefully. I think out of everyone, Greg is the one person who knows how difficult things are right now and this is his way of trying to help without making it obvious.
I make up a little cake box and begin to fill it. ‘There are some great stalls here. Where are you heading next?’
‘I’m going to try my hand at the Play Your Cards Right stall. How difficult can that be?’ He chuckles, then pays for his things. ‘I can stay around and give you a lift home later, if you like?’
I catch Jackson watching us and force myself to look straight at Greg. ‘Thanks, but I’ll need to help pack up.’
Reeni hands Greg his coffee. ‘I can manage on my own. Aaron’s around. You go with Greg.’
‘Great. I’ll see you later then,’ he says without waiting for me to answer and he collects up his goodies giving me a sparkling smile.
For the next hour we’re a little busier and once the lunchtime period is over, I look at our table. Most of our plates are over three quarters empty, but we still have nearly all our sandwiches. I need to sell everything to get the maximum funds possible. What’s wrong with the sarnies?
‘Why aren’t our sandwiches selling?’ I ask Reeni.
She nods at the VW. ‘I think their famous jaffles are stealing our customers,’ she says, light-heartedly.
‘Surely they must have done enough trade by now. You think they’d give us a break.’ Not satisfied with taking my Beach House customers at the café, they’re doing it here too. I want to stamp my feet like a toddler having a tantrum.
Milo is chatting to a tall slim woman who is flicking her auburn hair suggestively as she flirts with him and Jackson is laughing away with a couple he’s pulled over with a mouthwatering description of a cheese jaffle with sweet onion jam and pulled pork.
I put down the cloth I’m holding. ‘I’m going over there.’
‘Where?’
‘There. We need to sell all this stuff. They’ve been busy all day. Can’t they go low key for a bit?’
Reeni frowns. ‘We haven’t had queues like them, but look at our table, will you? It’s far from the disaster you’re making it out to be.’
‘I’ll only have a quick word. It’ll be fine.’ And before she can stop me, I slip out from behind the table and march across to the lads.
‘Hey,’ says Milo from inside the van. He’s on his own now the woman has left. ‘Busy day. I’m whacked and it’s like a sauna in here with both the jaffle irons on. I’ll be a waste of space at football later. Dillon’ll kill me.’
