‘Oh, she’s full of confidence,’ Sylvie laughs, moving to give me access to the serving counter. She beams at me as I make my way over to the man who’s just arrived.
‘What can I get you?’ I ask, getting ready to jot down his order, but when he doesn’t answer, I look up and find him watching me closely. I start shifting nervously, not liking the scrutiny. I find my voice. ‘Sir?’
His eyes widen a little. ‘Er, cappuccino, please. To take away.’
‘Sure.’ I snap into action, leaving Mr Wide Eyes gathering himself, and take myself to my new best friend, loading the handle thingy and securing it successfully into the holder – so far so good.
‘That is why Del won’t sack you,’ Sylvie whispers over my shoulder, making me jump slightly.
‘Stop it,’ I say, retrieving a takeaway cup from the shelf and placing it under the filter before pressing the correct button.
‘He’s watching you.’
‘Sylvie, stop it!’
‘Give him your number.’
‘No!’ I blurt too loudly, quickly checking over my shoulder. He’s staring at me. ‘I’m not interested.’
‘He’s cute,’ Sylvie concludes, and I have to agree. He’s very cute, but I’m very uninterested.
‘I don’t have time for a relationship.’ That’s not strictly true. This is my first job and before this I spent most of my adult life caring for Nan. Now I’m not sure whether she really does still need the care, or whether it’s just my excuse.
Sylvie shrugs and leaves me to finish my second round with the machine. I finish up, smiling as I pour the milk into the cup before releasing a drop of dust on the foam and securing a lid. I’m far too proud of myself and it’s obvious on my smiling face as I turn to deliver the cappuccino to Mr Wide Eyes. ‘Two pounds eighty, please.’ I go to place the cup down, but he intercepts me and takes it from my hand, ensuring contact as he does.
‘Thank you,’ he says, pulling my eyes up to his with his soft words.
‘You’re welcome.’ I slowly take my hand away from his, accepting the tenner he hands me. ‘I’ll get your change.’
‘Don’t worry.’ He shakes his head mildly, running his eyes all over my face. ‘But I wouldn’t mind your phone number.’
I hear Sylvie chuckling from the table she’s clearing. ‘I’m sorry, I’m in a relationship.’ I punch his order through the till and quickly collect his change, handing it over to him and ignoring Sylvie’s snort of disgust.
‘Of course you are.’ He laughs lightly, looking embarrassed. ‘How stupid of me.’
I smile, trying to ease his awkwardness. ‘It’s okay.’
‘I don’t usually just ask any women I meet for their number,’ he explains. ‘I’m not a creep.’
‘Honestly, it’s okay.’ I’m feeling embarrassed myself now, and I’m silently wishing he’d leave before I throw a coffee cup at Sylvie’s head. I can feel her staring at me in shock. I start to rearrange the napkins, anything to take me away from the uncomfortable situation. I could kiss the man who walks in behind, looking like he’s in a hurry. ‘I’d better get this.’ I indicate over Mr Wide Eyes’s shoulder to the harassed-looking businessman.
‘Oh, yes! Sorry.’ He backs away, holding up his cup in thanks. ‘See ya.’
‘Bye.’ I lift my hand before looking to my next customer. ‘What would you like, sir?’
‘Latte, no sugar, and make it quick.’ He barely even looks at me before he answers his phone and walks away from the counter, dumping his briefcase on a chair.
I’m only semi-aware of Mr Wide Eyes leaving, but I’m more than aware of Sylvie’s biker boots marching up to me, where I’m tackling the coffee machine again. ‘I can’t believe you declined!’ she whispers harshly. ‘He was lovely.’
I make quick work of my third perfect coffee, not giving her shock the attention it deserves. ‘He was okay,’ I reply nonchalantly.
‘“Okay?”’
‘Yes, he was okay.’
I’m not looking at her, but I know she’s just rolled her eyes. ‘Unbelievable,’ she mutters, stomping off, her voluptuous rump matching the side-to-side sway of her black bob.
I’m smiling in triumph again as I deliver the coffee, and my grin doesn’t even fall away when the harassed businessman thrusts three pounds into my hand before snatching his cup and marching out, without so much as a thank you.
My feet don’t touch the ground for the rest of the day. I fly in and out of the kitchen, clean endless tables and make dozens of perfect coffees. On my breaks, I manage to check up on Nan, being told off each time for being a whittle-arse.
As five o’clock approaches, I sink into one of the brown leather couches and open a can of Coke, hoping the caffeine and sugar might snap me back to life. I’m knackered.
‘Livy, I’m just going to take the rubbish out,’ Sylvie calls over, yanking the black sack from one of the bins. ‘You okay?’