I grimace at the contents of my dustpan and look around, wondering what to do with it. In the end, I go over to the fence and tip it between the wooden bars. This is the countryside, after all. Patrina’s going to have to get used to animal droppings underfoot.
When I go back inside, Bertha, Patrina and Krystle are gathered around the servery area. Hope is leaning forward on the counter, her hands linked together. ‘So, girls, hit me with all your brilliant ideas.’
‘What about some kind of special event?’ suggests Bertha. ‘Maybe a coffee morning for charity, celebrating the arrival of spring? We could have tombola prizes and a - ’
‘Oh, yawn bore!’ buts in Patrina.
‘So do you have any better ideas?’ snaps Bertha.
‘Well, it just so happens I do.’ Patrina gives a smug smile and we all turn expectantly.
‘Mummy’s on some charity committee and she was telling me all about the latest craze to hit the capital.’ She pauses for effect. ‘Death cafes. Everyone’s into it apparently. People get together, drink coffee and talk about – well, death.’
There’s a momentary silence.
Bertha shoots me a stunned look and I almost giggle.
Patrina shrugs. ‘You have to move with the times. Keep up with the fads.’
‘Gosh,’ says Hope. ‘A death café. What an interesting thought. But I think we’d probably need specialist counsellors for something like that. I suppose I was thinking more along the lines of a loyalty card?’
‘Oh.’ Patrina frowns. ‘Well, what about free food? That always seems to thrill the masses. Your average Joe gets terribly excited if he thinks he’s getting something for nothing.’
‘What sort of free food?’ Hope looks dubious.
‘Well, everything! Seriously, if you did that, the place would fill up in a New York minute.’
‘Sounds like a great way to go out of business altogether,’ murmurs Bertha.
I swallow. Then I say, a little nervously, ‘I think Patrina might be onto something, though. With the freebie idea, not the – um - death café.’
Hope nods. ‘Go on, Molly.’
‘The thing is, people do enjoy a freebie.’
‘Free cake on Mondays?’ suggests Bertha.
‘For everyone?’ Hope frowns. ‘We’d never make a profit.’
‘Unless…we ask the customer for something in return for their free slice of cake?’ I murmur. I’m just thinking aloud, not really sure where I’m going with this. ‘We need to think of something unique that would get people talking and spreading the word among their friends…’
All eyes have turned to me but my mind has now gone completely blank.
Oh, bugger! I shouldn’t have started this. But now that I have, I’ve got to continue.
I frown. ‘The customer gets a free slice of lemon drizzle cake if they…’ I trail off, racking my brains to think of something, and Krystle – who’s been silent up till now – suddenly bursts out, ‘If they say the password! Or guess the answer to a riddle!’
Everyone looks at her and she blushes bright red, clearly wishing she’d kept quiet.
‘Or they perform a tap dance while juggling two tea plates without dropping them?’ suggests Bertha, breaking the tension with her funny deadpan expression.
Patrina, clearly bored, gives her head an impatient little shake. ‘Look, it’s actually very simple. Just put an advert for the café in Harper’s Bazaar magazine.’
Hope looks at her watch. ‘Time to open up, folks. Patrina, can you tie your hair back, please? We don’t want blonde strands in the customers’ coffee.’
Patrina sighs and sails off to the Ladies.
‘Harper’s Bazaar bloody magazine!’ Bertha mutters to me, as we go about our tasks. ‘That girl inhabits a different universe.’
I grin at her. ‘How much do you think an advert in a glossy magazine would cost?’
‘Far more than a café on its uppers can afford, that’s for sure!’ A customer enters, and she smiles across at her. ‘Lottie! Flat white and a cheese scone coming up.’
‘Does Lottie have the same every time?’ I ask, going behind the counter to help Bertha with the order.
Bertha, at the coffee machine, nods as she starts making the flat white. ‘We’ve been mates for years, Lottie Bing and me – ever since infant school.’ She groans. ‘That’s more than fifty years ago.’
‘It’s lovely, though, that you’ve stayed friends all this time.’
Bertha’s gives me one of her rare smiles that lights up her face and reveals her dimples. ‘You’re right about that.’
A family comes in, and I take my pad and pencil and go over to take their order. Then I stand at the machine, frothing milk, thinking about Bertha’s friendship with Lottie.
I don’t have a solid, lasting friendship in my life. It sounds so nice, having someone you can rely on, whatever’s happening in your life. I gradually lost touch with my friends after I left for Sunnybrook, and now I have no-one I feel I could call at two in the morning if I was in trouble. No-one who knows me inside out because we’ve shared confidences for years – like Bertha and Lottie - and would understand how I’ve fallen so far.
There’s Mum, of course. I used to be able to talk to her about anything. But after years of loneliness, she’s finally embarked on a lovely adventure in Corfu with her Nico. And the last thing I want to do is spoil her happiness by causing her worry about Eva and me. When she calls, which isn’t very often because the signal is bad where they’re living, I ask about what she’s been up to but I stay silent about how things really are here.
Suddenly, I’m missing Mum so much, I feel it as an actual physical ache in my chest. If she were here, she’d be horrified by Jaxon. The way he lured me in with his fake kindness.
The scorching milk spurts noisily, bringing me abruptly back to the present, and my hand shakes slightly as I pour the milk over the fresh coffee.
There should be more kindness in this world.
Proper, genuine kindness. The sort where people give freely, without any expectation of being repaid. Like Fen trusting me to help her with the food bank deliveries, and then offering me this job. She didn’t really know me back then but she obviously sensed I was in a bad place. And she reached out to me. I owe Fen such a lot…
To my alarm, I feel hot tears prick at my eyes just thinking about this.
‘So what’s your view, Holly? What vibes can we stir up over a free slice of lemon drizzle cake?’
I look up and Patrina is standing there, leaning against the counter, her hair now in a neat chignon. I can see a family sitting by the window, waiting to be served, but Patrina doesn’t appear to have noticed.
‘A kindness vibe.’ I blurt it out without thinking.
Patrina looks puzzled. ‘Kindness?’ She laughs. ‘That’s a jolly weird idea.’
‘Is it?’ I swallow hard, quickly blinking away the tears. ‘If you ask me, the world could do with a lot more of it. And it’s Molly, by the way. Not Holly.’
She looks at me askance. ‘Oh, well, Molly, that’s all extremely worthy, I’m sure. But “kindness” is hardly going to whip potential customers into a frenzy of excitement, is it? It’s not going to make people say to their friends: “Hey, guys, we really must get along to the Brambleberry Manor Café. They’re going to be extra-kind to us on Mondays, apparently!’