Cafe Soleil
Episode 2
Darryl woke to a leaden looking sky and wondered if he should just dispense with outside tables today. If it rained there would be fewer fitness fanatics about. As he started pulling the chairs from out the back, he noticed they were getting heavier. Or was it him, piling on the pounds? He was too tired for his late evening stroll on the beach, too tired to get up any earlier and join the buff trainers on the esplanade. The café was something that occupied most of his daylight hours and if he were honest with himself, he would have sold it at a loss after the accident, rather than keep trying to hold on in the hope that something would miraculously change.
He realised his day wasn’t going to go as planned when he ducked out at lunch time and left the new waitress in charge. He just couldn’t hack another skinny thirty-something asking for almond milk in her soy chai latte with go lo or the tattooed sinewy trainer who accompanied her rabbiting on about his glutes and lats. The guy was handing around flyers, right in the café, without even asking. It was blah, blah, blah and I do forty reps of those and I bench press 200 any day of the week. These biceps? I recommend this little shop in town where I get my supplements. If you want the real thing though, give the owner a wink, sling him an extra fifty bucks and he gives you the really good stuff from UNDER the counter.
Then there were the whippet thin blondes and their Buggaboos - their precious cargo strapped inside, fat and dreaming, while their mothers chatted and compared notes about the right formulas and schools. Poor little devils, Darryl thought, let them slumber on in complete ignorance for a little while yet. They had no idea what was being mapped out for them and certainly wouldn’t be thrown out into the backyard with a simple suggestion that they go play! Like when he was a boy. What was that, nowadays? Every single moment of every waking hour would be organised, with some tutor teaching them higher mathematics or something while they crawled, drooling, along the carpet. Their mothers were now sipping lattes or piccolos.
At mid-morning the retired old farts usually came in for their raisin toast and cappuccinos nattering loudly (most of them were pretty deaf) about their super funds and shares and what was going up and coming down. Darryl’s brain was reeling from information overload.
He had to get out of that chaos just to clear his head for a little while. In spite of the early cloud, it was already blazing hot and the sweat was collecting around his forehead, He thought a walk on the beach, just a short one, might be the go.
He passed the drunk who was always sitting on the same bench, swigging from an innocent looking large Coca Cola bottle. The beach had No Alcohol signs everywhere. Darryl had to quicken his pace because up close, the unwashed stench of sweat and alcohol was unbearable.
As he ambled across the squeaky sand, he realised he should have taken his sneakers off. He bent down to untie the laces and was whacked on the back – he screamed, jumped up, ready to go on the attack. Luckily he realised just in time it was Luke, the local blind guy who regularly swung his white can back and forth along the beach and promenade. Darryl had to mumble sheepishly…
“Sorry”
He picked himself up, took a deep breath into his lungs and began walking again, glancing at his watch. Mustn’t leave Rosie too long at the café by herself. Who knows what trouble she could get into? Three wrong orders so far this morning.
He looked up to see the woman from yesterday walking towards him – he noticed she had a slight limp. Her beagle raced to up to give a doggy greeting. Darryl bent down and fluffed his ears.
“Hi” she said. “Sorry, he never forgets a face.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m delighted to see him.” He added shyly “And you too, of course.”
“You’re not working today?”
“Had to take a break. It’s a bit overwhelming. Actually, I’d better get back.”
She pulled on the lead. “I was just coming in for a coffee. Can I walk with you?”
“Sure. And I’ve put out the doggy bowls.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I’m Susannah, by the way.”
“Darryl”.
They walked companionably back to the café. He learned she’d taken early retirement – she didn’t say why – she was an ex lawyer. He told her as much of his own history as he thought she needed to know.
She sat down while he went out the back to fix whatever Rosie had stuffed up. A few missed orders, customers who were never coming back again, that sort of thing. He should have fired her weeks ago, but she had a kid to support. He was a mug, he knew. This couldn’t go on forever. They were losing money and there were bills to pay – now that the insurance had practically run out. Actually, he needed a miracle. Briefly he looked up at the sky, but didn’t hold out much hope of God granting him one today. Maybe it was enough that Susannah had turned up. There was something about her that delighted him; he’d thought most lawyers to be hard-bitten and curt.
The café crowd was thinning now that the lunchtime run had passed and he could take Susannah’s coffee out to her. He brought one for himself too, in case she wanted company.
“Do you mind if I join you? I need a little break, now I’ve got Rosie sorted out. She’s been skating on thin ice, but hopefully she’ll improve.”
“You’re very patient.”
“I’ve had to be. Hey, you look young to be retired. Did you just get sick of sorting out domestic dramas or defending dropkicks? What was it?”
“I had an accident. I couldn’t walk for six months. Several screws in my leg. Things just got on top of me and I had a breakdown. Lost my relationship – no children fortunately.” She pushed back her bob and he got a glimpse of a greying temple.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He took her hand and she didn’t withdraw it.
