‘Any good films on?’ Michelle asked hopefully.
‘Film,’ Phoebe corrected her, ‘not films. There’s only one screen.’
‘You’re kidding me,’ Tammy said, moving closer and running her eyes down the listing. This was like one of those fleapit cinemas she’d seen when they’d been on holiday to the coast: single daily showings of films which had done the rounds months ago in Redditch. ‘Seen, seen, seen,’ she said, ‘don’t want to see…’
‘Well this is a bit of a let down,’ Scott said. ‘I’d got myself all psyched up to see something decent.’
‘Any kids films on this afternoon?’ Michelle asked hopefully.
‘No films on this afternoon,’ Phoebe told her. ‘There’s a horror movie on at eight tonight, and some historical rubbish on tomorrow.’
‘No films on a Saturday afternoon?’ Scott said, barely able to believe it. ‘How can they expect to make any money when they’re not showing films at peak times? It’s a bloody joke.’
‘Maybe it’s not about making money,’ Michelle said. ‘Look around, love, there’s hardly anyone here. I think it’s got more to do with not losing cash.’
‘Great,’ Tammy said, feeling herself getting wound up again. ‘What now then?’
‘Food,’ Michelle replied quickly, determined to keep her family positive and occupied. ‘Follow me.’
Jackie had given Mary’s café a tentative seal of approval yesterday, though it had more to do with the lack of alternatives in Thussock than any great culinary recommendation.
‘I’ll drive us somewhere else,’ Scott said when they reached the café.
‘Why?’ Michelle replied. ‘What’s wrong with this? We live in Thussock now… we need to start giving places like this a chance. Besides, George is cranky. He needs to eat. Jackie said it was okay here.’
‘Jackie? Who the hell’s Jackie?’
‘Just a friend.’
‘Since when?’
‘Since I met her at the toddler group. I did tell you.’
‘You said you’d been to a group, you never said anything about any friend.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes, it matters.’
‘Please don’t argue,’ Phoebe groaned. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘It’s Mary’s or nothing,’ Michelle said.
Tammy leaned against the window of the café and peered inside like a miserable tourist on a wet bank holiday weekend. ‘I’ll go for nothing then,’ she said. A sideways glance from her mother shut her up.
‘Not an option. We need to eat and I’m having a day off cooking.’ She looked around at their miserable, long faces. ‘Come on you lot, stop being so bloody negative all the time. I’m making an effort, so you can too. Anyway, this place might be good. You might be surprised.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Phoebe mumbled as she followed her inside.
‘They might struggle to fit us in,’ Scott said sarcastically as he looked around at all the empty tables.
‘Stop it,’ Michelle said. ‘It’s only just turned twelve. It’ll get busier.’
The café looked as trapped in time as the rest of Thussock, perhaps even more so. The uncoordinated décor was a collision of out-dated fashions left over from different decades: part fifties milk bar, part eighties greasy spoon café, part something else entirely. They heard a dog yapping somewhere in the building. ‘A dog running wild in a café,’ Scott grumbled. ‘Not a good sign…’
They sat near the window. The interior of the café wasn’t particularly large – optimistically overcrowded with too many tables, Michelle thought – but she wondered if they might have picked the wrong seats when a large-hipped woman burst dramatically through a dated beaded curtain and made a big deal about getting all the way over to them, weaving clumsily around the furniture. Michelle cringed, but she relaxed when the woman broke into a broad and genuinely friendly smile. This, she decided, had to be Mary McLeod. She certainly fitted the description Jackie had given her: very heavy makeup, stacked-up hair, barrel-shaped.
‘Afternoon. What’ll I get for yous all?’
Scott studied a dog-eared laminated menu card. The pictures were faded and the prices had been adjusted for inflation in ballpoint pen. The choices were limited, but he’d expected that. No specials today, he thought, just ordinaries. Typical straightforward, unadventurous meals with bugger all in the way of flair or garnish. He was initially disappointed, then relieved. He didn’t want much, actually, just a good, hot, cheap meal to fill him up. No pretentiousness, just decent food. ‘I’ll have an all day breakfast with a side of chips,’ he said, pushing the boat out.
‘The same but without the chips,’ Phoebe added quickly.
‘Lasagne,’ Tammy said, choosing the least dodgy-looking dish she could see.
‘Chicken nuggets and chips for George, and I’ll have a baked potato with cheese and beans, please.’
Mary scribbled furiously, concentrating hard. ‘Drinks?’
‘Three teas, one coke and an orange juice,’ Michelle answered automatically, without needing to think or consult the others. Mary nodded and scribbled some more. She was about to walk away when she stopped and turned back again.
‘You the new family?’
‘We just moved here…’ Michelle started to answer before Mary interrupted.
‘The grey house?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I thought as much. I could tell from your accents that you weren’t local, and I’d heard you’d two girls and a boy.’
‘Jesus,’ Scott said. ‘There’s no privacy in Thussock.’
Michelle glared at him. Mary didn’t seem to mind. ‘News travels fast. Anyway, it’s lovely to meet yous all. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here.’
‘Why does everyone call it the grey house?’ Phoebe asked, waiting for some mysterious explanation. Mary just looked at her.
‘Because it’s grey.’
‘It’s quite a change from where we were before,’ Michelle said, desperately trying to build bridges, not burn them. ‘It’s going to take a little time to get used to things, but we’re liking it here so far.’
‘That’s just grand,’ Mary said, her wide smile revealing nicotine-stained teeth behind lipstick-scrawled lips. ‘But you’ve had quite the first week of it by all accounts, haven’t you?’
Scott looked up. She was looking directly at him. ‘What do you mean by that…?’
‘Ah, don’t worry,’ she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re not all gossips here. It’s just that when you live in a place as small as Thussock, word gets around whenever anything out of the ordinary happens. Warren from Barry’s yard comes in here most mornings for something to eat. He said Barry had given you some work, and then, of course, he told me about all that terrible stuff going on with Ken Potter.’
‘It’s not been the best of starts,’ Michelle agreed, getting in quick before Scott could say anything.
‘Things’ll calm down for yous all, I’m sure,’ Mary said, looking round the table at the faces looking back at her. She ruffled George’s hair. ‘Right then, lets go get your food sorted…’ and with that she disappeared back through the beaded curtain into the kitchen.
There was an awkward silence around the table. ‘Seems friendly enough,’ Michelle said.
‘I’m not having people knowing my business,’ Scott said angrily. Michelle tried to calm him. She reached for his hand but he snatched it away. ‘It’s a frigging joke,’ he hissed. ‘Who the hell do they think they are?’
‘Don’t get angry, love, they don’t mean anything by it.’
‘I’m not having it. It’s like living in a bloody horror film round here… people getting killed and everyone knowing your business.’