Shelley’s expression oozed pride. ‘They said they wanted to dig until they’d reached the Chinese.’
‘Oh dear,’ Hazel said. ‘Well, what are you going to do? Because you can’t leave them unsupervised if they’re going to try something like that. It’s not safe like it was when I was a girl.’
‘My Frank’s gonna see if he can build them a zip wire,’ Shelley announced. ‘A distraction technique. But it should also help improve their other abilities, you know, balance and… hanging on.’
‘That’s lovely, Shelley,’ Megan interrupted, looking at her watch. ‘And, as much as I’d like to chat about the triplets’ attempt at The Great Escape, I’m going to head home and have a shower. And you three need to crack on if we’re going to get the deliveries out in time, yes?’
And there was Cool Corporate Megan back again. The roll-filling family vibe dissipated. But, Becky supposed, that was why her sister owned and ran the business and she just made the product…
‘You’ve remembered you’re going to the nursing home at eleven, Megan, haven’t you?’ Becky checked, recommencing her buttering.
‘What?!’ Megan exclaimed, eyes out on stalks. ‘No. I’m booked in for a pedi at eleven. And I’ve literally just told you what my feet have been through this morning. No one needs the care and attention of Saffron more than me.’
‘But you’re pitching for their summer party,’ Becky said. ‘Sadie from the charity shop recommended us and the manager called me on Tuesday and I made the appointment. I put it in the computer diary and in the paper one.’ She itched to get off her stool, go into Megan’s office and hold the leather-bound book aloft. Times and dates were one of her fortes.
‘Well, you’ll have to cancel,’ Megan stated, already halfway back to the door.
Cancel? Hadn’t Megan just got all gleeful and excited about this new business she’d secured with the military? They couldn’t afford to turn down potential work. They might currently be in a good position, but when the Great British high street was struggling, everything was always somehow balanced on a plastic catering knife edge.
‘I’m not cancelling.’
Becky swallowed after she’d delivered the sentence. Where had that authority come from? Ordinarily she only used that tone when the prawn man was late…
‘What?’ Megan said, her hands going to her hips.
Becky could feel Hazel and Shelley looking between the two of them like they were opposing factions of a Nigel Farage talkRADIO show.
‘You shouldn’t cancel,’ Becky said again. ‘You can charge good money. They’ll want scones and cake as well as sandwiches. We can even source some unique teas, there’s a website I found—’
‘Becky, we make sandwiches, rolls, wraps and paninis. We don’t do cakes.’ Megan spread her arms wide around the snug workspace. ‘I’m not really one hundred per cent sure we have the capacity to butter all these baps for the army, but we’ll have to make it work somehow.’ She sighed. ‘What we don’t have time for is silly little teas at the nursing home. I mean, it’s hardly bigtime, is it?’
Had her sister just said ‘silly little teas’? Tears pricked Becky’s eyes then, but she bit the inside of her lip and desperately tried to hold it together. She wasn’t going to back down over this. This was important to her. And it should also be important to Megan.
‘Well, I’ll go then,’ Becky stated. ‘I’ll do the pitch.’
Megan let out a laugh. An actual, proper laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Becky asked. ‘I’ll go to the nursing home and tell them what It’s A Wrap can do for them and see what they were thinking of in terms of cake. If we can’t do the cake then—’
‘And pricing?’ Megan asked. ‘And working out exactly how many loaves of bread and rolls it all equates to? And how many more extra fillings we need to order in? Timescale, Becky? Stock control?’
Her sister was making it sound akin to organising that maybe-brigadier’s military invasion, or booking a slot with Tesco for pre-Christmas Day delivery… It couldn’t be that hard!
‘Well,’ Becky started, ‘I can see what their requirements are first, how many people they expect to come and then—’
‘No,’ Megan said bluntly. ‘No, you won’t. Because I don’t want the contract. And… you can’t possibly do the meeting on your own.’
All Becky could do was watch as Megan flew from the kitchen like she was now powered by rocket fuel and her feet didn’t hurt a bit. And, returning to her workstation, a little bit fragile, it felt like forever until Shelley reached a silent hand to the knob of the radio and turned the volume back up to six.
Two
Wetherspoons, Amesbury, Wiltshire, UK
‘You know she didn’t mean it, dear,’ Hazel said softly.
From their seat in the window of the old pub, Becky was watching the gorgeous pink, purple and white flowers in the hanging baskets fluttering in the breeze. It was a breeze not quite cooling enough to bring down the summer temperature, hence sitting in the window for any breath of air that didn’t feel like it was blowing out of the back of a vacuum cleaner.
‘She did mean it,’ Becky replied, turning back to her half a lager and lime. It was barely midday. She shouldn’t be drinking. They shouldn’t be in the pub at all, but Hazel had insisted after Becky had spent the rest of the morning virtually silent over the food prep. Usually, they would make jokes about the oddly shaped tomatoes or sing along to Spire FM, but after Megan’s stand, Becky had nothing she wanted to share.
Shelley had gone out in the van for the deliveries, the clock had ticked around to ten-forty-five and Becky had made a decision. She was going to call the nursing home. But not to cancel. Only to delay. When she was properly composed, when she had figured out how many slices of thin-cut white it would take to feed a hundred octogenarians, she was going to take the meeting on her own. Why couldn’t she? Apart from the fact that Megan didn’t think she could manage it. But, then again, maybe her sister was right. Perhaps she wasn’t capable. Except the thing that hurt almost as much as Megan not thinking she had meeting-taking abilities, was the fact her sister had apparently forgotten all about the care the nursing home had delivered to their late father.
‘You know how she can be, dear,’ Hazel continued, sipping at her Woo-Woo cocktail. ‘Single-minded with tunnel vision.’
‘Yes,’ Becky answered. ‘Yes, I do.’ Megan was full-on, opinionated, boisterous, all-knowing, even when she really wasn’t. In fact, the more Becky thought about it, the more her sister could almost be Katie Hopkins. No, that was a tad harsh. She took another sip of her drink and immediately felt guilty for even thinking that. They didn’t spend as much time together as they used to, that was all. Yes, they might be at work alongside each other for a good portion of the day, but work wasn’t a relaxing sauna or a few lengths of the local pool and a chat over a cool glass of wine after the exercise…
‘What are you going to do?’ Hazel asked, ducking her platinum-blonde curls towards the straw sticking out of her drink and sucking. ‘About the nursing home?’