Right on cue a skinny young man wearing a T-shirt covered in skulls appeared from the kitchen.
‘You coming to the pub, Dave?’ asked Felix.
‘Nah, got band practice tonight.’
‘OK, see you tomorrow.’
The young man grunted as he left the café.
‘I bet you five pounds he doesn’t show up for work tomorrow,’ Hattie said to Felix.
‘Deal,’ he replied, shaking her hand.
‘Come on, I’m parched,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll drive.’
‘No!’ shouted Felix and Hattie in unison.
Fran turned to them, hands on her hips. ‘So rude. Sarah, love, would you like a ride in my classic car?’
‘Yes, that sounds great.’
Hattie rolled her eyes. Felix sighed, earning himself a whack on the arm from Fran.
‘You don’t know what you’ve let us in for,’ he muttered to Sarah as they followed Fran out of the café.
The four of them squeezed into Fran’s ancient Mini Cooper, clutching onto door handles or each other as she tore along narrow country lanes.
‘Take it easy, Fran,’ said Hattie, her knuckles white as she gripped the seat below.
‘Fran’s a bit of a speed demon,’ whispered Felix.
‘Oi, I can hear you. Don’t worry, love,’ said Fran, taking her eyes off the road to catch Sarah’s in the rear-view mirror. ‘There’s a reason I have such a compact car. It can get past anything.’
‘Woah!’ yelled Hattie. Sarah screamed. Colour drained from Felix’s face.
Fran skidded the car to a stop, narrowly escaping a nasty encounter with a very large tractor. Laughing, she pulled the Mini as far as she could into the hedge.
‘That will teach me for being so cocky.’
‘Christ, Fran. You’re more suited toTop Gearthan working in a kitchen.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ said Fran, turning to wink at Felix.
By the time the car pulled up outside a quaint country pub, all its passengers were grey, their legs shaking, relief etched on their faces as they climbed out of the car.
‘Now I need a drink,’ said Hattie.
‘Me too,’ said Sarah, following her colleagues into a pretty beer garden.
Hattie headed to the bar, appearing minutes later with four pints of beer. Sarah hadn’t had Fran down as a beer drinker. Then again she hadn’t had her down as a racing driver. It seemed her new colleague was full of surprises.
‘Right, Sarah. We want all the gossip,’ said Hattie, wiping a foamy moustache from her face.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on. You message me out of the blue about a job miles from home, turn up to the interview dressed for the office with no references. There’s more to it than wanting a change of scene. Oh, and by the way, you caught me at a weak moment. I’ve never employed someone with no references before.’
‘Right. Well, I’m afraid there’s not much to tell.’
