Chapter 24
‘Mae, what’s going on? What happened?’ She’s shivering, her arms wrapped around herself.
She points a finger angrily. ‘He happened!’
I feel a drop of icy rain, sleet, falling on my face.
It’s the young company man, Josh. He’s clearly following orders, making things work, showing leadership. My happy bubble bursts.
‘You again!’ I glare at the younger version of me. ‘I thought they might have sent someone a bit more senior. We’re making quite a noise here, you know! People are interested. They want this place to stay open as it is.’
‘Look, I’m just doing my job,’ he says politely. ‘As you know, this place has been sold and the owners, the company I work for, would like to take it over. They have a schedule to keep so that they can open in the new year.’
I know how he feels, sent in to do a job, but this is about more than his job right now. I bend to put down the cawl. Then, my hands on my hips, I say, ‘They want the building, which I’m imagining was a fairly cheap buy, but they don’t want the staff whose livelihoods rely on it.’
‘They’ll be advertising for staff in the new year. Everyone is welcome to apply.’ He gives a nice smile. What he has said is straight from the company handbook. The one I’ve been cantering out for the last God knows how many years, as I climbed up and up the ladder.
‘But not now,’ I retaliate. I can feel phones being lifted and pointed in my direction.
‘Not when they need work. Life doesn’t stop for employees while there’s a facelift and a new menu.
They need to pay their bills. And Christmas is round the corner.
Mae has a family. Her life doesn’t stop because your company wants to save a few quid by re-advertising her job in the new year. ’
My face is hot and angry. Although the schoolgirls are filming me I can’t stop. I turn to Mae. ‘What happened?’
‘I needed to nip to school, to see the concert and pick up the potatoes I’d left cooking at Mum’s. The kids would have hated it if I hadn’t turned up. I told Owen and Evie they could go, that you were on your way. I waited for someone to arrive but …’
‘Oh, God! The Land Rover wouldn’t start. I’m so sorry. And then I had to chase off a woman whose dogs were upsetting the ewes. This is my fault.’
‘It’s not,’ she says. Her eyes are red and I don’t think she’s had any sleep, maybe spent the night crying, worrying about what’s going to happen. My heart twists.
‘I slipped out. I didn’t think anyone had seen me leave. But when I got back, they were waiting for me.’ She jerks a thumb at the locksmiths.
‘Look …’ The young man steps forward and I can see Mae is trying not to cry, but tears are slipping down her face onto the tray of foil-wrapped potatoes.
I turn my crossness back onto the young man. ‘This is how your business operates, is it? Throwing people out onto the street. Making them jobless and, who knows, homeless before Christmas?’
The tears are now pouring down Mae’s face.
‘It wasn’t like that! I’m sorry. I was just doing what I’ve been told to do. Besides, you were squatting!’
Mae drops her head. ‘He’s right,’ she says quietly. All the fight has gone out of her. ‘I couldn’t think what else to do. And now I really have no idea what I’m going to do.’
Josh steps forward. ‘I’m really sorry, I am. There was no other way.’
She nods. ‘Bet you’ll get a Christmas bonus for sorting out their problem called Mae!’
‘Ah … you got me!’
She gives a little smile, as does he.
He looks back at the long queue of people. ‘You’ve clearly been doing a great job here. People like what you do.’
‘You’d be surprised what a difference a jacket potato and a cuppa, or a bowl of cawl and a Welsh cake can make,’ says Mae. ‘People like home-cooked food. They like the company too, not sitting in their cars at drive-throughs.’
‘You’re right,’ he says. He glances at Dad, holding the bread to him like a newborn baby. ‘You know, you have the customers and the food. You don’t need a café to serve it from. These people are clearly here because they want to be.’
Llew steps forward, and something in me sparks.
‘He’s right. Every business has to start somewhere.
’ He glances at the signwriter already stripping down the old board, proclaiming Beti’s Café.
If Beti’s useless son had been a bit more involved it could have been saved.
But clearly people want to be here, and not just for Beti’s.
Josh speaks again: ‘I can’t tell you what to do, obviously. You just need to work out what you need to make it happen.’ He looks at the queue. ‘I’m sorry again,’ he says, then walks to the signwriter and begins a discussion.
‘He’s right, Mae,’ I say, picking up the pot of cawl and feeling a tickle on my cheeks and nose. The sleet is turning to snow. Tiny flakes. ‘Every business has to start somewhere.’ It’s cold and people are standing around, waiting to see what will happen.
‘But where?’ she says. ‘We can’t just serve up on the pavement.’
‘Well,’ I say slowly, as the problem starts to percolate in my head, ‘you have your jacket potatoes.’
She nods at the tray in her hands. ‘Loads … I thought no one would notice,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking of. I couldn’t take on a big company. I was being stupid.’
‘Not stupid! You were standing up for what’s right! Against Beti’s useless son, selling you down the river weeks before Christmas!’
Twm Bach is shivering.
‘And we’re not going to let that stop us now,’ I say defiantly. ‘You need every penny you can make and you can still do that!’
‘How?’
‘We have the food.’
‘And customers,’ says Llew.
We turn towards the cattle lorry. ‘Wait there,’ I say, handing Llew the pot of cawl. ‘Owen!’ I wave, seeing him arrive at the café.
‘What’s going on?’ he says, jogging over to us, looking up at the changing sign.
‘We’re relocating!’ I beam. ‘Give us a hand, will you?’
He looks at the café, then the lorry, and smiles. ‘Can do!’
Together we pull down the back of the lorry.
It’s been a long time since it was open but, thankfully, Dad had made me clean it every time we came back from market and had done the same when he was doing the markets on his own.
He was a stickler for hygiene, which means it’s clean, with fresh straw bales in there.
We walk up the ramp.
‘Right … seats!’ I say, pulling the bales round. ‘Let’s get Twm Bach out of the cold.’ Llew puts down the cawl and we make benches from the bales along both sides of the lorry. It’s out of the wind and really quite cosy in there.
Evie arrives and sees what’s going on. ‘What can I do?’ she asks.
‘Can you bring Twm Bach in? He could do with warming up.’
‘On it,’ she says. She gathers him and leads him up the ramp, with Dad, and sits them in the back of the lorry, with blankets she’s knitted over their knees.
‘Let’s get some food going,’ I say, aware that people are following us with their phones as we create our makeshift, pop-up food lorry.
‘Tell people to bring their own mugs for cawl. They can eat the jacket potatoes out of the foil, like they have been doing. Let’s make a table from bales to serve on across here.
’ I point towards the back of the lorry.
‘Leave enough room for us to get behind it.’
I put my phone on one of the little window ledges as we start to move bales. I reach for one at the same time as Llew. Our hands collide and I get that zip of excitement in my stomach. Our eyes meet and we hold each other’s gaze in the cattle lorry, with the gentle snow outside.
‘You really are something, Jem,’ he says, and I blush.
‘What? Just thinking on my feet!’ I brush off the compliment and we lift the bale together. Suddenly I hear my phone pinging like crazy. I reach for it.
‘You’re popular!’ says Llew.
I look at it and my eyes widen. ‘I left my phone on live from when I was at the farm, after shouting about the woman and her dogs! Has all of this been going out live!’ I gasp in horror.
Mae pulls out her phone, Llew and Owen too.
‘Yes you’re live streaming!’ says Mae. ‘Your camera’s still on.’
Bizarrely Mae and I wave at the camera, although I’m still hoping I’m not really on screen and it’s just my left ear.
‘It’s been seen by thousands! All cheering you on!’ says Mae.
‘You’ve got loads of followers! They’re all commenting on the jacket potatoes and wondering what’s in the cawl,’ says Llew, with a grin.
‘Everyone’s asking where we are, where the lorry is.’
‘They want to know, so tell them,’ says Llew. ‘Be you!’
I stare at him for a moment, then turn to my phone, pick it up and hold it to the lorry while I talk from behind the screen. ‘The cawl’s made with hogget, which is older lamb, carrots, leeks and stock. We’ve got jacket potatoes too.’
‘Come and see us!’ shouts Mae, behind me. ‘We’ll be here until we run out!’ She starts typing and posts the location.
We look at each other and high-five.
‘Let’s get serving!’ I say.
‘Leave the live stream on. People clearly like what they see,’ says Llew.
Thumbs-ups, waves and hearts come up on my screen.
‘Okay. First come, first served. Once we sell out, we’ll close. Who’s for cawl?’ I shout to the line forming at the bottom of the ramp. ‘Bring your own mugs!’
‘And jacket potatoes.’ Mae giggles.
‘I’ve brought Welsh cakes,’ says Myfanwy, arriving out of puff in the lorry. ‘Sounds like I’ve missed all the excitement.’ I notice Dad make room for her to sit next to him on the bale.
And I see Mae look up and down the ramp, where Josh is standing. He gives her a discreet thumbs-up. ‘Jacket potato, with cheese?’ he calls.
‘On me,’ she says, reaching into her big handbag for a fork, which she passes to Myfanwy with a warm foil parcel to hand to him.
‘Thank you for the idea. Just remember to bring your fork back!’ She’s wearing a cheeky smile.
‘I borrowed them from a local café …’ He grins back, and I get the feeling that, in different circumstances, something might have developed between them.
‘I don’t think they’ll be missed. I’ll say they were never there.’ He opens the tin foil, letting out the steam, digs in his fork and lifts potato to his mouth, with buttery, stringy cheese. He chews and smiles at her, nodding.
‘I’ll see if I can find some mugs,’ says Llew. ‘Maybe the charity shop down the road has some.’
As the queue passes in and out of the lorry, and we’re nearly sold out, I say to Mae, ‘Maybe we should come back and do it all again tomorrow.’
I hear a cheer from the people outside, eating hot potatoes and cawl while more likes and hearts appear on my phone screen.
Myfanwy is handing round Welsh cakes and telling people who ask that she’s happy to take orders and Dad is telling people to pick them up from the cattle lorry tomorrow.
We’ve nearly finished serving when Bryn, the local community police officer, appears.
‘What can I get you, Bryn? Looks like you could do with warming up! But there’s not much left.’
‘I could … but the thing is, I can’t let you park here.’
‘Oh, come on, Bryn! It’s just a couple of people trying to make a living,’ I say.
‘I know, I know …’ Bryn holds up his hands, then takes a mug of cawl from me. ‘This is delicious! Reminds me of your nan’s cawl. There was always a pot of it on the go up at the farm.’ He takes another big mouthful, enjoying it, but frowning. ‘But I can’t let you park here …’
I sigh. Mae, Llew and I look at each other.
‘But,’ he smiles, turning away from the phone. ‘There’s always the old cattle market. I know it’s up for sale, now the mart’s closed there, but people are using it to park on all the time. The owners seem to be turning a blind eye.’
We turn to each other and clink mugs of tea that feature Gavin & Stacey’s Pam and Mick, which Llew bought from the charity shop and the hairdresser filled for us. ‘Cattle market tomorrow then!’ I say.