Chapter 10
I woke up already looking forward to the word for the second of December.
Without the shadow of potential illness hovering over me, I felt upbeat enough to poach an egg for breakfast and put on a load of washing.
I even turned my laptop on, finding the energy to deal with a few more business-related emails and start compiling a list of what I needed to do if I was going to close things down permanently.
Mid-morning, Darya posted:
HELPFUL
I mulled this over while on my walk with Ernest. My instinct was to think about my family.
The obvious thing to do was send them something.
A hamper of Christmassy groceries. The younger three always needed clothes.
Maybe I should drive down there, spend a few hours cleaning the house or pick the kids up from school and nursery so Lacey could have a couple of extra hours free.
Then I thought about what she’d probably be doing for the hours her children were being looked after by someone else.
Watching TV with Mum. Napping. Grumbling about things she wasn’t prepared to do anything about.
I was nowhere near strong enough yet to face my family. I’d save it for Christmas Eve.
Instead, I started wondering about Tucker’s. Merry and Joel were such warm, welcoming people, but their café was the complete opposite. Dreary décor and lacklustre food. This was exactly the kind of situation where I could be genuinely helpful.
Once I’d returned from the walk, for the first time since my life derailed, I put some effort into my appearance.
As an expression of my new-found spark of enthusiasm, I wore my favourite jeans with a gorgeous chocolate-brown cashmere jumper, styled my hair and even dabbed on some of the obscenely expensive moisturiser Nico had given me for my birthday.
I added a swipe of mascara and lip-gloss and felt, not like my old self, but as if a nicer, softer and more serene me might be emerging.
Several bruises, curses and a dent in my wall later, which ended up being around midday, I parked my car outside the café and ventured inside, hoping it wouldn’t be too busy.
In the glare of winter sunshine, Tucker’s interior appeared even starker and more jarring than in the gloom of the storm. I felt concerned to find the place empty except for Joel and Donovan. They were sitting at a table with a huge tray of Christmas tree cookies.
‘Hi, Alex!’ Joel said, giving me a wave. Today his T-shirt featured a bow and arrow. ‘I’m being helpful for Mum, and Donovan is being helpful by helping me. Do you want to help him? Look, folding the boxes is quite tricky when you start, but then it gets easier if you practise.’
He picked up a flat sheet of cardboard and painstakingly folded it into a small gift box, narrow enough to fit through a letterbox. Adding a layer of tissue paper, he counted out four cookies as he placed them inside, wrapping them in the tissue and folding the lid shut.
‘They’re Christmas gifts for Tucker’s suppliers and other contacts,’ Donovan explained. ‘Joel is packaging and I’m writing the addresses.’
‘Joel, is that a customer? I hope you’ve taken their order,’ Merry called, bustling out of the kitchen. ‘Ay up, Alex.’ She broke into a surprised smile before turning to her son. ‘Joel?’
‘Yes. I forgot. Serving customers always comes first. Sorry to keep you waiting, Alex.’ Joel got up and hurried over to the counter. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Well,’ I said, nerves twitching in my belly. I wasn’t used to offering help without being asked first. ‘I’m hoping to do something helpful. Joel, could you give me a hand outside?’
‘Yes, I can because today is all about being helpful,’ Joel said seriously.
‘I’d love to get some lunch in a couple of minutes, too,’ I said, because I didn’t have the heart to deny Merry the custom.
Joel was remarkably strong considering his slender stature, so we were soon back inside with minimal hassle.
‘Look, Mum!’ he announced, once the chair I’d wrestled out of my house and into my car boot was squashed in beside the existing threadbare, sagging armchairs.
‘What’s this?’ Merry said, coming out from behind the counter to have a closer look.
‘I’ve been meaning to find it a home for ages. I treated myself to a corner sofa when I moved into my new house and have nowhere for this to go. It’s clogging up my office, and I keep bumping into it.’
That wasn’t entirely true. The beautiful, squishy chair in cranberry and olive fabric went perfectly in the corner of my office.
As did its pair. However, I suspected Merry would refuse the chair point-blank unless I made it sound as though she was the one being helpful by accepting it.
It was a quick, easy fix that I knew would do wonders for the café, and I simply had to do it.
An intervention rather than what my sister would call interfering.
‘It looks expensive.’ Merry stroked the plush fabric, apprehension furrowed across her forehead.
‘It was fairly expensive, yes,’ I said, because I couldn’t lie about everything. ‘But I’m in the lucky position of being able to afford to give it away. Bringing it here means I still get to enjoy sitting in it every Thursday. If I sell it, I’ll never see it again.’
‘So, what, I’m doing you a favour by taking your fancy-pants chair?’ Merry was wearing a yellow jumper covered in big ruffles over beige leggings today. She made me think of a lemon cupcake.
‘Maybe we can consider it mutually helpful?’ I suggested.
‘Are you after fixing our café?’ She narrowed one eye in suspicion.
‘Yes, please.’ I couldn’t tell whether Merry wanted me to say yes or not. However, it turned out this new, Broken Alex was brazen. Maybe that was what happened after publicly shredding all self-respect. ‘I am pretty good at it.’
‘I think it’s obvious we’re completely skint.’
‘It is. Which is not the best look for a café.’ I lifted my chin and tried to sound as confident as I felt.
If Merry denied this probably outrageously over-the-top offer of friendship, I’d scuttle back to my lonely existence, where I was safe from rejection.
‘I’ve gone from working fourteen-hour days, trying to balance demanding clients with filming all over the country, to absolutely nothing.
My life is empty except for a dog and a niece who is currently too loved up to spare me more than the odd meme.
My ego is lying in tatters, my sense of purpose evaporated.
If I was fixing me, I’d instruct myself to take on a project.
Something where I could freely give my time and talents, develop positive, healthy relationships and make a genuinely worthwhile contribution to my community.
I don’t want to put myself down further by saying I’d be the sole party benefitting from this.
I promise you I can transform your business. But doing it might just save me, too.’
‘I don’t take well to being bossed about.’ Merry sounded wary, but I could see a tiny glint of hope in her eyes.
‘You’ve seen Winning at Life. I won’t do anything without your full agreement.’
‘If I had time for loads of extra work, we wouldn’t be in this state.’
‘Like I said, time is one thing I’ve got far too much of right now. I’m happy to just get on with it.’
‘So, it all comes down to whether I trust you or not.’
‘That, and whether your pride will let you accept my help.’
Merry rolled her eyes. ‘I might be a lousy café owner, but I’m not daft. When can you start?’
I glanced at Joel. ‘I’ve another chair to bring over. Then I’ll have a cheese and tomato toastie and a cappuccino before I take these eyesores to the recycling centre.’
While eating my flabby toastie with no crisps or even a bit of salad for a garnish, I asked Merry why Tucker’s was the only eatery in the country still bare of Christmas decorations.
‘We’ve got a box of bits in the back somewhere. It’s just getting around to it.’
‘I think that takes precedent over packing up homemade cookies for your suppliers.’
‘Yeah, but if I let Joel loose with the tinsel, we’ll look even tackier than we do now. Putting cookies in boxes is something he can handle himself.’
‘What made you decide to open a café?’ I asked, because it really didn’t seem like something she was passionate about.
‘When Joel left school, he had a couple of work placements arranged by his social worker and did a college course to help young adults with additional learning needs develop employability skills. The problem is, a shiny CV and three months volunteering in a hospital canteen weren’t enough for someone to give him a chance.
We applied for that many jobs, and he never even got an interview.
It’s not about the income, it’s about him having something worthwhile to do.
’ She raised an eyebrow at me over her mug of tea.
‘You’re bored with mooching about after a couple of weeks.
He had nearly two years, and the archery club wasn’t enough.
So, when my auntie was looking to sell her café, the same time I got offered a decent redundancy deal from the council admin job I’d been working in since leaving school, I decided if no one would give my son a chance, we’d take one for ourselves.
That, and offer them to other people in the same situation.
Samira’s in the kitchen now. She’s got severe social anxiety, alongside her neurodiversity, so will hide in the loo if anyone threatens to say hello, but she’s hands down the best baker in Bigley. ’
‘You’d no prior experience in running a business, or in catering?’
She shrugged. ‘I read some books, watched a few seminars.’
‘In that case, I think you’ve done extraordinarily well. I can’t wait to boost your natural talent with my expertise.’
‘Let me guess, starting with some Christmas decorations?’
‘It’s Will’s Arty Party tomorrow. Why don’t we see if our other friends can help?’
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the café, compiling a list of suggestions for Merry and Joel to consider.
The non-negotiables were a menu revamp, redecorating and a long, hard look at the finances.
I couldn’t fathom how they were making anything close to a profit considering the prices they charged.
As they approached closing time at four o’clock, one person had come in for a takeaway coffee and a man brought in his grandson for hot chocolate and a scone each.
‘Can’t beat a warm Tucker’s scone.’ The man sighed contentedly as he added butter and jam.
‘Grandad, the table is all sticky.’ The boy scowled at the yellowed Formica, lifting his arms high in the air as if the surface was contaminated with a horrible disease.
‘I’m sure Joel will give it a quick wipe if we ask him.’ Grandad glanced about, but Joel and Donovan had just left with the cookie boxes.
‘I’ll do it,’ I said, jumping up and hurrying around the counter to find a cloth.
As soon as I stepped inside the kitchen, a young woman who I presumed was Samira screamed, dropping the large tray of cookies she’d taken out of the oven, sending them skittering across the floor.
‘I’m so sorry for startling you,’ I said, trying to sound as unthreatening as possible. ‘I’ll help clean all that up, but can I have a cloth to wipe a customer’s table, quickly?’
‘If you wait in the café, I’ll bring one out,’ Merry said, moving from where she’d been chopping onions to put a steadying hand on Samira’s arm.
‘Right. Yes. Sorry.’
I ducked back out again, only to find the customers putting their coats on.
‘Sounds like you’ve got your hands full today,’ the man said. ‘I’ve wrapped the scones in a napkin and we’ll take them with us, thank you.’
‘Merry’s coming with a cloth. It’s fine, honestly.’
‘Please don’t trouble yourselves, we’re all sorted now.’
‘This place makes me feel sick,’ the boy, who must have been around seven or eight, declared.
‘Here.’ I grabbed one of the leftover cookie boxes. ‘If you put your scones in this they won’t crumble.’
‘I don’t want it. Grandad says I can get a cake from the shop instead.’
‘Thank you for your help,’ Grandad said, sounding polite but not at all apologetic for the well-deserved feedback.
The last thing I heard the boy say as he left was, ‘Is that the loser woman off YouTube? Does she work in this horrible café because she ran away from the telly?’
Oh dear.
Merry appeared with a cloth and spray bottle about three minutes too late.
‘Here, I’ll sort it,’ I said.
‘I might not be the most business-savvy, but I can wipe a table,’ Merry said, briskly.
I didn’t ask why, in that case, so many of the unused tables needed a good scrub.
‘I know it’s not good enough,’ she said, once she’d started on the second table. ‘We’re not keeping on top of things.’
‘If you’re not coping when there are hardly any customers, you’re never going to manage if it gets busier.’
‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘There’s just so much to think about. Samira and Joel require almost constant supervision. I end up forgetting things.’
‘You need some robust systems.’
‘I need help,’ she admitted.
‘What about Donovan?’
‘The truth is, his eyesight isn’t great, his joints are riddled with arthritis, and he’s got a dodgy back, so he doesn’t always do the best job of clearing up.
He’s one more person to keep an eye on, really, but Joel loves having him here to chat with, even if it does end up being a distraction from what he should be doing.
There’s only so much interest I can fake in yet another Robin Hood ballad recital. ’
‘Okay.’ I made a note on my list. ‘I’m sure we can find tasks for Donovan that suit his skillset better. But you can’t afford to lose any more customers through basic stuff like sticky tables.’
Merry closed her eyes, clutching the cloth to a big ruffle on her jumper. ‘I don’t even know where to start.’
Aware that if she became overwhelmed, she’d give up before we got going, I decided to get over my hesitation and start acting as if she was a paying client.
‘You start by closing the café until you’re ready to provide an outstanding service.’
‘What?’ Merry’s eyes snapped open. ‘I can’t afford to close!’ Then she sighed. ‘Don’t tell me – at this point, I can’t afford not to close.’
‘From what I’ve seen, the only real business you’ll lose is on Thursday lunchtime. It won’t take long to get things sorted, I promise.’
‘How long is not long?’
‘We’ll have a grand relaunch party before Christmas.’
Merry stared at me. ‘Do you promise this won’t kill off my son’s business?’
I had a golden rule as a life fixer. I never, ever lied to a client.
‘If you trust me, I will help you bring it back to life.’
There. Now I had no choice in the matter.
I wrote a sign on a piece of paper and handed it to her.
Merry took the roll of tape Joel had been using to seal shut the cookie boxes and stuck the sign on the front door:
Temporarily closed. GRAND REOPENING 23rd DECEMBER
She squinted at it. ‘Maybe we can start by printing out a proper sign.’