‘Oh, has it really?’ Debbie replied, looking aghast at the metal-and-plastic construction. She scanned the caf?’s interior unhappily. ‘I suppose the whole place could do with a bit of an update, now that you mention it.’
I had been absorbed in observing the two of them, but a movement on the street caught my eye. Sophie was striding along the cobbles, heading home for lunch. As she crossed the street in front of the caf? she stopped, distracted by something. The old lady with the shopping trolley and curiously coloured hair was on the other side of the street and had said something to her. Sophie pulled a headphone out of one ear, a frown forming as she listened. It was all over in a matter of seconds and then the old lady was on her way again, the wheels of her shopping trolley rattling over the cobbles.
When she pushed open the caf? door, Sophie’s face was furious.
‘Oh, hi, Soph. We’ve got hot water again if you want a … shower …’ Debbie had stepped out of the kitchen to greet her, but Sophie barged past, heading straight for the stairs. ‘What’s wrong, love?’ Debbie called, but the only answer was the sound of a door slamming upstairs. Debbie looked at the floor, embarrassed.
‘Teenagers, eh?’ John said sympathetically when she returned to the kitchen, and Debbie managed a weak smile.
He had done what he could and began to pack his tools away. I wandered across the caf? to sniff at his bag, while Debbie made out a cheque for the work. She was full of gratitude and promised to be in touch soon about replacing the boiler.
John opened his mouth as if to say something, but then paused, leaving an awkward silence hanging in the air. He caught sight of me on the floor next to his bag.‘Bye, Molly, look after the place, won’t you?’ he said, giving me a quick stroke as he lifted the bag to his shoulder.
As he was leaving he popped his head back through the door.
‘You know, I’m sure I could get that stove working for you, if you ever decide to do the place up.’
‘Thanks,’ Debbie replied thoughtfully. ‘I might take you up on that.’
John left, and for a moment Debbie’s eyes lingered on the door after it had closed behind him.
‘You know what, Molly, I think he’s right. This place needs a facelift. And that monstrosity hasgot to go,’ she said, eyeing the serving counter with disgust.
Part of me wanted to say that I could have told her that weeks ago, but I thought it was enough to purr encouragingly. After her stressful morning it was good to see a sparkle back in Debbie’s eyes, although whether that was down to the thought of doing up the caf? or something else entirely, I wasn’t sure.
20 [Êàðòèíêà: i_006.jpg]
Debbie arranged for someone to mind the caf? so that she could spend the following day looking into the business finances. She carried several heavy folders into the living room and spread them across the table, then sat down with a heavy sigh. She had tied her hair back in a ponytail, and reading glasses were perched on her nose as she worked her way through the piles of paper in front of her. During the course of the morning she made numerous lengthy phone calls enquiring about business-development loans and interest rates, and sat listlessly as recorded music was played down the telephone line. Making a show of supportiveness, I sat on the dining table to keep her company, but before long I had dozed off in an empty foolscap box-file.
Debbie was still engrossed in her work when Sophie got home from school.‘Hello, love. Gosh, is that the time already?’ she said, looking up, startled. She stretched back in her chair, rolling her head from side to side to relieve the tension in her neck. ‘Tell you what, Soph, why don’t I make us both a cup of tea? I could do with a break from all these numbers.’
Sophie was hovering indecisively in the doorway. Her rucksack was still slung over her shoulder, and I eyed it nervously lest her mood turned and she decided to fling it at me.‘Yeah, okay,’ she replied, placing her bag and jacket on one of the dining chairs.
Debbie disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a few minutes later with two mugs of tea and a packet of chocolate biscuits, which she waved in front of Sophie’s nose. ‘I think we’ve earned these, don’t you?’ she said, opening the packet and offering it to her daughter. Sophie smiled and took a biscuit.
‘So, how was school?’ Debbie asked, a flicker of concern in her eyes as she broached what she knew to be a delicate subject.
Sophie shrugged, taking a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie.‘Dunno,’ she answered vaguely. Debbie smiled, patiently waiting while Sophie finished her mouthful. ‘My form tutor’s still a moron,’ Sophie volunteered, taking a second bite. Debbie smiled sympathetically. ‘But I sat next to Jade on the bus home, and she said the whole school knows he’s an utter—’ Debbie’s eyebrows had shot up and Sophie stopped herself, pausing to choose her words. ‘He’s anunpopular teacher,’ she said carefully, smirking across the rim of her mug.
This was the most information Sophie had disclosed about her school life in all the time I had known her, and I sensed that Debbie wanted to capitalize on her openness.‘Does Jade live in Stourton too?’ she probed, casually sipping her tea.
Sophie nodded.‘Yeah. I might meet her in town this weekend actually.’ She had picked up her phone and started to scroll through a backlog of text messages on her screen.
Sensing that her daughter’s interest had wandered elsewhere, Debbie patted her on the arm as she stood up to clear the empty biscuit packet. ‘Sounds like a good idea – the two of you could get a milkshake together.’
Sophie shot Debbie a withering look.‘Yeah, all right, Mum. We’re not five years old, you know.’
Debbie lifted her hands in a gesture of submission.‘Of course not, love. I didn’t mean to suggest—’ She stopped, relieved to see that Sophie was smiling at her.
There were further phone calls during the week as Debbie got the finances in place to pay for the planned refurbishment of the caf?. On Friday evening Sophie reluctantly agreed to help her move the furniture, stacking the chairs and tables inside the kitchen and clearing the serving counter. The sight of the empty caf? made me melancholy. It reminded me of Margery’s house when it was being packed up, and the sadness I hadfelt at seeing empty floor where once there had been furniture, and marks on the walls where pictures had hung. I did not want to linger downstairs any longer than necessary, and happily ran up to bed with Debbie as soon as she had locked up.
First thing on Saturday morning I heard the bell above the caf? door tinkle. It was Jo. ‘Right, boss. What’s first?’ she asked cheerily.
Debbie had got up early and was already kneeling on the floor next to the stove.‘Hi, Jo. Help me get this lino up, would you?’ she answered. ‘John’s coming later to have a look at the stove, so I want to get the fireplace area cleared.’
Jo took off her coat and hung it up, while Debbie started to score at the floor with a Stanley knife.
‘So John’s coming to help? Well, isn’t that kind of him? And on a weekend, too.’
Something about Jo’s tone made Debbie look up. ‘And what’s that face for?’ Debbie said drily, running the blade sharply along the floor.
‘What face? I’m not making a face,’ Jo replied innocently. ‘I’m merely thinking how kind it is of John to give up his weekend to fix your stove.’ A mischievous smile played around her lips.
‘Well, you’re not here to think – you’re here to work,’ Debbie replied curtly. ‘But for your information, he’s not doing it out of kindness. I will be recompensing him for his time.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Jo muttered under her breath, which Debbie pretended not to hear.
Although Debbie had removed all the furniture from the caf?, she had left my box on the windowsill. I climbed into it and watched as they moved slowly across the caf? floor, scoring the lino before ripping it up in jagged sections. After a couple of hours they both looked hot and flustered. Debbie crawled on her hands and knees to the stairs.