30
What’s gone and what’s past help Should be past grief
– The Winter’s Tale
‘What can I get for you?’ Cesca stood in front of her customers, pencil and pad poised to take down their order. The couple looked at each other for a moment, then the woman nudged the man. He scratched his head, staring at the menu.
‘Do you have anything other than cereal?’
Cesca bit her lip. It was a question she was asked every day, by practically everybody who came into the café. Taking a deep breath, she blinked twice before answering them. ‘I’m afraid not.’
What was it about the name of the café that the patrons didn’t understand? It was written in bright blue paint above the entrance. Cereal. Simple, right?
‘Not even some toast?’ the man asked.
‘I’m sorry, no toast. We have a hundred different kinds of cereal, though,’ she replied, trying to keep her tone cheery. ‘If you’re allergic to anything, we can offer you gluten free cereal, and rice milk?’
‘I’m not allergic,’ the woman leaned forward to tell her. ‘I just don’t want cereal for dinner.’
Cesca gave her a look. It was somewhere between understanding and exasperation. ‘I’m afraid that’s all we have. It’s a concept café. Cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.’
‘That’s just silly,’ the woman protested. ‘Who eats cereal for dinner? Especially at seven pounds for a bowl of Cheerios. I could buy three boxes in the supermarket for that.’
Biting her lip to stop herself from suggesting the woman did just that, she gave her another sympathetic smile. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the complaints – far from it – but honestly, what did they expect from a café called Cereal?
‘We have ten different types of milk,’ she told them, as if it was going to help at all.
In the week she’d been working here, Cesca had seen it all. Sharp-suited men slurping their Frosties while discussing business, rich mothers dragging their children in and stuffing Coco Pops into their complaining mouths. Even first dates that must have seemed a good idea at the time. She wondered if any of them made it to second dates.
Of course, that turned her thoughts to Sam. Nearly everything did. Right now she was thinking about that perfect first date – the one in the grotto where he’d taken her secretly. They hadn’t even kissed then, though she’d been thinking about it a lot. Now she’d never kiss him again.
The thought made her feel sick.
‘Do you want to leave?’ the man asked his companion. ‘We can go somewhere else if you’d like?’
‘I just want to go home,’ his date replied. ‘I don’t think we’re really compatible.’
It was a paraphrase of the words she’d said to Sam eighteen days ago, but close enough to make her heart clench. God, was she ever going to get over him?
She wandered into the kitchen where Simon, the owner, was making up orders. ‘Table fifteen have left without ordering,’ she told him. ‘They were upset they couldn’t have toast.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you run another customer off? I’m going to have to deduct the lost profits from your wage.’
‘Piss off,’ she said lightly. ‘They don’t leave because of me. They leave because your menu’s stupid.’
‘It’s a concept café,’ he sighed. ‘Why can’t people understand that?’
‘Because it’s a crazy idea. You’re going to go bankrupt within a year.’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘I could sack you for that.’
‘Feel free. I’m only working here as a favour to you. And I’ll be leaving anyway just as soon as my script goes into production. So if you want me to go now . . . ’
‘No!’ He stepped in front of her. ‘I didn’t mean it. We need you, Cesca.’
Wasn’t that the truth? He couldn’t keep the staff for love nor money. ‘In that case, feel free to up my wages.’
‘If you promise to stay for six months, I’ll double them.’