Chapter 20 #3
‘Glad to be back, Chef!’ She gave him a mock salute.
There was no sign of Pete but the Christmas tree they’d bought jointly twinkled enchantingly, transforming the café into a magical space.
Ally immediately began setting up the tables and placing a sprig of holly on each one.
Then she slipped behind the counter and began stacking the gourmet sandwiches in order, ready to pop in the toaster: Reuben with pastrami, mozzarella and pickle on sourdough; bacon, fluffy omelette and cheese on a chewy bagel; chicken Parmesan torpedoes, made from nutty sesame dough with a drizzle of basil pesto .
. . It was no wonder there was already a queue outside at 8.
25 a.m., waiting for the place to open. Ally worked fast as barista, and she greeted the customers, while Dave was calling in the orders and doing food with Evelyn.
Far from having lost her touch, Ally felt like she’d never been away, and had even benefited from the break.
‘Good to see you back, Ally, we missed you,’ said Niamh, the gym bunny, as she paid for Americanos and chia pots for herself and her friend, who were taking the morning off to go Christmas shopping.
Noel and Christie ordered, respectively, a chorizo and egg sandwich and a smoked salmon with whipped sour cream and pickled red onions, as they were going to collect for charity on Henry Street.
The next couple of hours were a blur of activity, until a lull at ten thirty, which gave Ally a chance to catch her breath and look around. There was still no sign of Pete. Glancing across, she caught Evelyn’s eye; she was looking at her intently.
‘Oh, by the way,’ said Dave, waving an Americano, ‘Pete’s moving in upstairs. We were going over some ideas last night, so he’s out buying materials right now.’
Ally’s heart leaped annoyingly at the mention of his name. Her head was doing really well, whereas her wretched, disobedient, unwise heart insisted on going rogue. Well, it could feel whatever it wanted, there was no way it was getting in the driver’s seat.
Just then there was a noise from the back door, where Pete could be seen hauling in an antique-looking radiator, while Patsy was just visible, peeping over his shoulder from a backpack.
‘I’ve three more in the van,’ he announced briskly. ‘Friend of mine owed me a favour.’
Ally was wondering where on earth the money was coming from to cover said renovation, when Dave broke in.
‘It’s my idea to get the job done,’ he explained.
‘I own the property and it’ll add to the value if there’s residential units available for rent.
Plus, there’s tax relief on it, even if the budget is pretty tight, but I trust my friend Pete here to make the best use of the cash. ’
‘This is really exciting,’ exclaimed Ally. ‘When’re you planning on starting?’
Pete looked at his watch. ‘Half an hour? By the way, Ally, I’m planning on getting this place cleared fast, so labour is key. You don’t happen to know anyone who’d like a day’s work on Saturday?’
‘And wouldn’t mind working for crap wages?’ added Dave. ‘Lunch included, though.’
That’d make a difference, she thought. Well, she could ask DIY Fergus. Christmas was coming, and frankly, he had more energy than he knew what to do with, not to mention an unexpected bill for the washing machine.
She fired off a text to that effect to William and waited for a reply.
The café grew busy leading up to lunchtime, so she’d no time to think about anything else but coffee and clearing for the next three hours. At ten past two, she looked at her phone to see a reply from William:
Sure, he’s well up for it and he’s roped in our other housemate. ’Bout time for a bit of honest labouring ??!
Great, at least she’d been able to make a contribution to the project.
There was the usual trickle of afternoon customers, mostly just ordering cake or scones, so by half three Evelyn was sitting at the little table by the wall, doing her knitting, while Ally dropped her down a mug of tea.
She glanced around and, seeing that everyone had what they needed for the moment, settled down opposite the older woman, grateful to take the weight off her feet.
‘Sorry for being nosy, but . . . the bit you’re doing now, what’s that bobble pattern?’
Evelyn smoothed out what turned out to be one of the front panels of her cardigan.
‘So . . . the front is all about . . . whatever you want it to be about.’
Ally gave her a quizzical look. ‘How do you mean?’
‘The front is all about . . . wishes.’
‘Kind of knitting up the future? So, what are your hopes for the future, Evelyn?’
‘Mine? Ah . . . never mind about mine. What are yours, more to the point?’
‘So, it works for anyone, not just yourself?’ she asked.
‘Certainly, it does.’
Ally sighed – she couldn’t think where to begin.
‘Oh, Evelyn, it’s just everything is such a shambles. If my life were knitting, it’d look just like a big ball of tangled-up wool that a cat had a fight with.’
Evelyn smiled. ‘Ah, it only feels like that from where you’re standing. Most things aren’t so bad when you take a step backwards. So, what about . . .’ She jerked her head towards the storeroom. ‘You still like him?’
‘Evelyn, it’s such a mess. I don’t even know how he feels about me. Sometimes I really think he does like me, but then again, he still seems so tied up in his past that he’s literally back there. And I feel so self-indulgent even saying it when so much awful stuff has happened to him.’
‘Well, maybe all of those things are true. Most of it for reasons outside both of your control.’
‘OK, my wishes are . . . that I can afford to keep paying my mortgage for the moment, that my fish will be fine . . . that all of this business stuff is resolved for Pete . . .’ Something struck her then and she took a deep breath. ‘With or without me.’
‘Very wise . . . Sometimes we don’t know what’s best – all we can do is trust.’
Just then two customers made their way to the cash desk to pay, so Ally jumped up to deal with them, and when she turned around, Evelyn had gone.
* * *
It was four thirty and the place was empty apart from a couple of stragglers, thank God, so she locked the door and began clearing up. Dave had left early so she was working alone when Pete appeared from the back; he made himself a mug of tea and, without asking, one for her.
‘Thought it was about time for this.’ He smiled.
She appreciated the gentle gesture, but how did she even feel towards him?
Her feet were sore from eight hours of serving, and frankly she didn’t have the energy to hold on to a mood, so she gratefully accepted the tea, acutely aware of the spark as their hands lightly brushed.
She plonked herself down on the chair opposite with a sigh – totally without expectations, of course.
He seemed noticeably happier – clearly, having a new project was energising him. He disappeared for a moment then reappeared with a MacBook Pro which she knew cost a fortune.
‘Ally, would you mind casting your eye over a few ideas I’ve had?’
‘I’m no expert but . . . sure.’
In truth she was excited to see his plans for the top two floors. It seemed almost unimaginable that the dank, derelict spaces could be turned into anything liveable, but clearly Pete could see beyond that.
‘It’s not a renovation, exactly . . . Well, it is .
. . but it’s also a restoration. See this row of shops?
We’re in Class 2 listed Victorian buildings, so the aim is to keep as many of the existing features as possible.
We’re going to have to lift floorboards to re-wire, but the idea is to save them.
Same with the windows – we can’t change the shape but we can replace them with new timber sash frames.
We can put up an RSJ and take down the wall, opening up the two front rooms.’
All of this was coming out so fluently, without hesitation, that Ally felt she was witnessing a completely different Pete. Powerful, confident, knowledgeable.
‘We’re going to leave one brick wall exposed, as a feature, keep the original plaster mouldings on ceilings and walls . . .’
Ally was wondering, given his expertise, why on earth he even wanted to run it by her.
‘The thing is, Ally . . . I’m in a dilemma. Dave is a great guy and a great friend, but this place is seriously underperforming.’ Ally nodded silently – she’d often thought that too.
‘Given the location and the goodwill The Owl’s Nest has as a business .
. . Damn, Ally, this should be a well-known landmark.
He needs to open this as a wine bar and restaurant until ten on weeknights, twelve at weekends.
Dave has an artist’s sensibility, and I respect that .
. . However, he’s putting far too much expertise into far too little return.
I’m a businessman. The way to make this place pay is—’
‘Gourmet pizza/pasta menu at night . . . so popular and there’s nothing like that around here. And a fancy bar upstairs.’
‘My thoughts exactly, Ally. Dave can keep his chef’s special dishes on the menu for his loyal customers . . . fine. But he’s got to sell in volume and at a profit. Supplement that with takeaway, and you’re making money, then grow the brand, otherwise he’ll be barely scraping by forever.’
‘You’re so right. I’ve dreamed about exactly that while going home on the Luas,’ she burst out, without adding that most of her fantasies included him.
‘Or . . .’ He changed the image. ‘An open-plan restaurant with glass staircase linking the floors. Complete remodelling of upstairs, trad/modern, while keeping the cottagey feel of downstairs.’
‘Honestly, Pete, your plans . . . They’re fabulous. I did business and marketing in college, but the way you see things . . . You’re just a natural,’ she breathed at last.
He smiled sheepishly but she could tell he was chuffed by the spontaneity of her compliments.
‘Ah, I’ve been doing it a long time, Ally. You get the knack of it.’
‘No, Pete, some people just have it, and most don’t. You do. How can you even doubt that?’
He rubbed the side of his face thoughtfully with that powerful hand. ‘I didn’t use to doubt it, but then, with everything . . . you start to wonder . . . was I just fooling myself?’
She pointed her finger at him in mock severity. ‘I’m not listening to any of that.’
‘Anyhow, the point is, this is all down to Dave, he’s the money man.’
Wow, she thought, it must be strange for him, given that for the past twenty years that title had been his.
‘I’m so happy to see you doing your thing . . . I know it’s small scale compared to your normal but I feel like I’m finally getting to meet the other Pete.’
He shrugged diffidently but she could see that underneath he was glowing at the acknowledgement, as though he’d been starving for it.
‘If you saw me in full swing, you mightn’t say that.’
‘Why?’
‘Let’s say I can be tough when things need to get done. In fact, worse words have been used to describe me.’
‘Somebody has to be. You’re the boss, you can’t be everyone’s best friend. So, do you want the good news?’
He grinned. ‘Go on . . .’
‘I’ve got you a crew for tomorrow. A couple of strapping Galway lads . . . We’ll have to keep Patsy in his crate for safety and take turns in giving him a cuddle,’ she added.
A thought struck her. ‘Apart from that, Pete, where are you going to live? You can’t stay in that van, it’s getting colder every night.’
‘I’m going to get a tent, then I can move it between floors.’
‘You and Patsy, camping upstairs . . . in a building site?’
‘That’s the idea.’ Wow. It was clear that the prospect of rough living didn’t faze him. In short, Pete was a bona fide tough guy.
‘Amazing . . .’
But she couldn’t help comparing this to his utter bollocks of a business partner, who was living in the Mediterranean on a luxury ocean-going yacht bought using misappropriated money. Pete must have picked up on her thoughts.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Ally, but I can’t go there, or it’ll drive me crazy.’ Instinctively, she reached out and touched his calloused hand.
‘Nice nails,’ he remarked. ‘When’s the beauty pageant?’
Ally made a playful face at him.
‘I’m serious, you look great. Whose benefit is it for?’
‘Mine,’ she replied airily.
‘Good.’
Ally gave a mysterious smile, but her mind was a beehive of unspoken questions.
Was he going back to Tanya? Was he going to stay with them for Christmas, when it’d be convenient for her to have him around?
This job for Dave was probably only at mates’ rates and there’d be no profit in it for him to get back on his feet .
. . Detach! she ordered herself – he’s an adult, back off!
She was conscious of him sitting slumped in the chair opposite – his broad shoulders, his hair spiky from plaster dust, five o’clock shadow darkening on his chin . . . He needed a haircut, but she wasn’t going to say a word.
‘I’d better head home, my fish will be missing me.’
‘Yeah, I’d better head on too . . .’
She desperately wanted to ask him what he was going to do for the evening, and for a moment even wondered if she should ask him back to her apartment, but something told her to hold off. Whatever was happening with Pete, he needed to handle it himself.
‘OK, well, see you first thing tomorrow,’ she said, making for the cloakroom. Just as she passed him, she felt her hand being gripped. They stood like that for a few moments before he released her hand and, without meeting his gaze, she walked out the door.