Page 3 of Little Wing
Who are you? I don’t know you! I don’t have children. Leave me alone.
So Nell wouldn’t be phoning the mum who’d forgotten all about being a mum. And she wouldn’t call Philippa in another time zone. And she’d break her phone if she fiddled with its flip-top much longer and there was sod all on the telly anyway and bugger all to eat in the fridge.
Debbie, Nell’s friend and co-manager at the café, had said why don’t you sign up for a ceramics evening class or something? Zumba? Or something. Or go for a run.
Run?
Where to?
Away?
Nell only had Converse trainers – you couldn’t do running of any merit in those anyway.
* * *
The Chaffinch Café was known by everyone as the Chiffchaff Caff, which was erroneous because chiffchaff is not a diminutive for chaffinch. They are an entirely separate species. Though rarer than the chaffinch, the chiffchaff is just a small warbler, unspectacular in its olive-brown plumage and its repetitive song. And that’s what always bugged Nell – who only ever referred to her place of work as the Chaffinch. To her, there was nothing dull,ordinaireor monotonous about the café or the people who made it what it was. It was a place as colourful, spritely and joyous as the bird after which it took its name. She’d worked for the Chaffinch Foundation for six years, initially in the residential home, now as manager at the café in Colchester, open to all, run by Chaffinch staff and residents and featuring produce from their thriving allotment and the local farm shop.
Nell never thought of her crew as remotely challenged. In fact, she often felt it was the customers who had special needs which her staff fulfilled and surpassed all the time. Tea and sympathy. Coffee and a breather. Cake and a chat. The Chaffinch operated at a different pace to other establishments – and that pace changed from day to day. Some days the staff brought a rambunctious energy, with loud singing, random interpretation of customer orders and a certain amount of spillage; other days the pace was meditatively slow, albeit with the same liberal attitude to what had been asked for. Serendipitously, customers seemed to time their visits for when the café provided the ambiance they most needed. Only very occasionally were visitors to the town unable to hide impatience or irritation with the pace and the gentle cack-handedness for which the café was held in such affection by the locals.
At 8.30 in the morning, behind the vibrant blue shopfront, in a denim skirt, trainers and a robust top the colour of oatmeal which could obscure a multitude of splatters, Nell gathered her workforce around her. She’d known this gang since their teens. Daniel who proudly introduced himself to everyone as Danny Downsie, Rachel who found speech onerous but was fastidious about how food looked on the plate, Alex and Sanjay who were slow on the uptake but an entertaining double act when it came to making sandwiches, Libby whose jolly disposition cancelled out her clumsiness, and AJ whose barista skills were worth the lengthy wait. Today, Nell also had Siobhán volunteering although, with her boyfriend troubles and money worries, she gave the lot of them a headache.
‘Listen up, team. Soup today is sweet potato, leek and watercress.’
‘Sweetato and waterleaks,’ Danny repeated.
‘There is quiche,’ said Nell, ‘which is veggie, obviously. And there’s a mixed Mediterranean salad with freekeh.’
Everyone looked appalled.
‘Just say superfood salad,’ said Nell. ‘Also, chocolate mousse cake, Rice Krispie chews and banana bread.’
‘It’s not bread.’
‘I know, Sanjay – but it looks like a loaf, so.’
‘It’s not bread. It’s cake.’
‘It’s sweet,’ said Alex.
‘It’s cake,’ said Sanjay.
Nell thought about it. ‘You’re quite right. Let’s call it banana cake.’
‘Queue,’ said Rachel in her rasping voice.
Nell looked out the window. Toddlers straining to get out of their buggies and strained mothers in need of caffeine. Two builders who were long-term members of the Danny Downsie fan club. The clerks from the bank which opened in half an hour.
‘Are we ready?’ Nell looked at them all. Siobhán was sending texts. AJ was polishing the coffee machine. Libby was in her own world. Sanjay and Alex were still talking about bananas. Danny was by the door with his arms crossed like a bouncer.
‘Are we ready?’ Danny sang out as he opened the door. ‘Welcome to the Chiffchaff Caff!’
Nell experienced that peculiar energy surge. Apprehension and joy. It was always the same. Even when things went wrong on the surface which was, inevitably, a daily occurrence, beneath it all Nell knew this was the best job in the world.
The builders saidawright mateto Danny and ruffled his hair while calling out their order to Libby who told AJ a latte with two sugars and tea with three, while Rachel very carefully put brownies in two separate paper bags. The mums were ordering cappuccinos and babyccinos, which AJ loved making most of all. Sanjay sneezed into the chopped iceberg but told Nell immediately which was a great improvement on last week with the hummus. Danny told Rachel she was an old slowcoach but a raised eyebrow from Nell saw him apologize straight away. Siobhán said her life was a fucking nightmare and everyone behind the counter told her off for swearing. Two tables were undercharged but then overpaid. All the red crayons had gone so a toddler had an enormous tantrum. Danny dispensed cuddles. Rachel cried a little. Sanjay needed a sit-down. Libby was singing Madonna’s back catalogue. Nell’s jumper gamely hid splashes of food and drink and Alex announced to everyone who came in that there was banana and it was a cake and by lunchtime, it had all gone.
Debbie took over from Siobhán for the afternoon shift so Nell and Alex prepared chocolate cornflake cakes and dolloped the mixture into paper cases in time for after-school mayhem. Alex was obsessed with telling her it’s organic, don’t panic and she hadn’t the heart to tell him that, actually, it wasn’t. Nobody wanted Alex to panic. It was supremely upsetting.
It had been a good day. The takings were good and the fridge sounded fine. Debbie organized the crew into a crocodile of sorts and Nell waved them off, watching them dawdle and dance their way down the high street. She turned the sign from Open to Closed and went through to the kitchen to sit down for the first time that day. Need to put the glasses into the dishwasher. Change the tea towels for tomorrow. Check milk. Butter. Loo roll. Buy red crayons.
