The Girl Who Lied. Sue Fortin

can see the stainless-steel kitchen equipment, all exactly as I remember.

      Before I can do anything, I need to move the four silver bistro tables and their chairs from inside the café, where they have been stacked overnight, and take them outside. They aren’t so much heavy as awkward and once accomplished I can tick that task off the list Mum gave to me last night.

      Consulting the list, I continue to prepare the café for opening.

      In the kitchen, I am just tying my apron when I hear the little bell above the door jangle to announce the arrival of the first customer.

      ‘Right, here we go,’ I say, as I tuck the order pad and pen into the front pocket of the apron. However, my breezy morning smile slips as I see who my first two customers are.

      Kerry and Joe Wright.

      ‘Morning, Bunny,’ calls Joe as I make my way round the counter and walk down towards them. He grins broadly at me.

      ‘Morning. How’s your dad?’ says Kerry. They sit down at a table.

      ‘About the same,’ I reply. I take the order pad and pen from my pocket, not wanting to get into small talk. Not with Joe, anyway. Kerry’s okay. ‘What can I get you?’

      ‘Two house breakfasts, one tea and one coffee, please,’ replies Kerry.

      I head straight back to the kitchen and I’m just putting the bacon on to cook when I hear the bell jangle above the door. Peeking through the serving hatch, I see two more customers arrive. Painters, judging by their overalls, followed by another chap, who is probably some sort of tradesman too if his work clothes are anything to go by.

      Three more breakfast orders later, I’m back in the kitchen hurriedly putting more sausages and bacon in the frying pan, whilst stirring the beans in one pot and cracking eggs in a pan for the first order.

      Taking out the two breakfasts for Kerry and Joe, I’m greeted by yet another customer. I didn’t realise the café was so busy this time in the morning.

      I spend the next twenty minutes rushing round like a whirling dervish but, despite my best efforts, I manage to burn one of the orders. The scrambled eggs have stuck to the bottom of the pan.

      ‘Sod it,’ I say out loud as black bits begin churning up into the yellow egg. I try to pick out some of the bits and wonder whether I can get away with serving it. In all honesty, not: it looks like the scrambled eggs have freckles. Dumping the pan down into the sink, the clatter resonates around the kitchen. I grab some more eggs and break them into a clean pan. Glancing through the hatch again, I sigh inwardly as I see Joe standing there.

      ‘Just want to pay,’ he calls through to me. ‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run…’

      ‘You should do them in the microwave. A lot quicker and less chance of burning.’ A voice behind me makes me jump and I swing round. I watch, lost for words, as Kerry casually strolls over to the hob, turns the heat off completely then washes his hands in the small sink next to the fridge.

      ‘Don’t worry, all nice and clean,’ he says as he dries them on a paper towel. ‘I’ll send Joe on his way. I’ll settle up the bill.’

      ‘Right, thanks.’ I watch as he motions to Joe through the hatch then begins to rummage around in the cupboard. Surely he doesn’t think he is going to help out in the kitchen. He takes out a plastic bowl and puts it on the counter.

      ‘Yep, this will do,’ he says. ‘Pass the eggs and milk.’

      ‘I’m not sure my dad would approve,’ I say, as I open a fresh box of eggs.

      ‘We won’t tell him, then,’ whispers Kerry conspiratorially in my ear. ‘It will be our secret. Why don’t you get on with the drinks? I’ll keep an eye on this lot here.’ He picks up the order slips, arranging them on the work surface and then, turning to me, the amused look still on his face, he waves the whisk in the direction of the doorway. ‘Go on.’ He has an air of authority yet calmness about him and I find myself obediently following his instructions.

      Within ten minutes, all the customers are tucking into their food without complaint and Kerry is having a much-deserved cup of tea.

      ‘Thanks for that,’ I say gratefully. ‘I’m a bit out of practice.’

      ‘I gathered.’ Kerry grins over the rim of his mug. Then, more seriously. ‘Look, about Joe.’ Immediately I feel myself tense. I don’t say anything as I wait for him to continue. ‘Don’t take any notice of his teasing. He doesn’t mean anything by it.’

      ‘Oh, I’m not bothered about Jody, I mean, Joe,’ I lie, forcing a laugh. ‘Although it is a bit boring after all these years. You kind of think when you’re in your mid-twenties you’ve grown out of all that stupid nickname business. Obviously, Joe has still got a bit of growing up to do.’ I can hear the tone in my voice changing involuntarily as I speak, not quite able to suppress the irritation I feel. I turn my attention to rinsing out my cup.

      ‘So, how come you and Joe have never crossed paths in all this time? You must have been back to visit your family and I certainly don’t remember seeing you either,’ Kerry asks.

      I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other as I concentrate on cleaning an imaginary mark from my cup. ‘I usually pop over for a brief visit. It’s very busy at work. I’m a beautician at a health-and-fitness spa so I don’t always work regular hours. It’s not easy.’

      ‘Don’t you keep in touch with any of your old school friends?’

      ‘No, not really.’ Christ, wasn’t it time he went to work rather than ask all these awkward questions?

      ‘What was the appeal of London?’

      ‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ I’m not making a very good job of keeping my tone light-hearted. I put the cup on the draining board. ‘Why have you ended up here in Rossway?’

      Kerry shrugs. ‘Needed a change, I suppose.’

      I look at him, holding his gaze for a moment before speaking. ‘So did I.’ There, hopefully that would be the end of that conversation. I’m not the only one who has a past that needs to stay in the past.

      Kerry doesn’t blink as he looks back at me, the silvery flecks in his eyes for a moment don’t seem so glittery. He nods his head slightly as if understanding something.

      ‘Right, I suppose I’d better get over to the workshop and get on with my real job,’ he says, breaking the mini deadlock.

      ‘You won’t get into trouble, will you? Being here when you’re supposed to be working,’ I say, trying to regain some equanimity.

      ‘I can make the time up later – work through my break. It’s no big deal.’ Kerry puts his cup in the sink and heads for the door. ‘Are you on your own for the rest of the day?’

      ‘No, my sister’s coming in later for a while to help with the lunchtime rush. I’ll just have to close up on my own.’

      ‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’

      I call after him through the serving hatch. ‘If you’re in for breakfast in the morning, it’s on the house, by way of a thank you.’

      Kerry turns and, with what I can only describe as a cheeky grin, followed by an even cheekier wink, calls back to me, ‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement!’

      *

      Kerry wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his overalls. It was a hot day for May and working inside the poorly insulated workshop wasn’t pleasant. The air was still and the humidity high.

      ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a storm coming,’ said Kerry.

      ‘You want a cuppa?’ asked Joe, putting down the spanner he had been using.

      ‘Got anything colder?’

      Joe