The Second Chance Café in Carlton Square Read online

  ‘Really not helping, Kell.’

  But she’s right. Daniel and I can just about manage on his charity worker’s salary, as long as we don’t do anything too extravagant like go out to dinner. Or get a nanny (as if). His parents might be rich, but we stand on our own two sometimes-in-debt feet. If the café goes under, I can always try to find a job that would leave us a bit in the bank after paying for childcare.

  I don’t even want to think about not paying back my in-laws, but they’re not exactly the Mafia. It would probably just mean a few uncomfortable family dinners, not broken legs.

  What about Lou and Joseph, though? What happens if I fail them? Sure, Joseph is keen, but he’s a terrible job applicant. He’ll be up against others who’ve got work experience and don’t think they deserve to be CEO straightaway. What chance will he have then?

  And Lou. She’s already been nicked for stealing. Who’d hire her with that smudge on her record and no work experience?

  ‘You’re not going to hang all these, are you?’ Kelly holds up a big pile of cloth, pulling me away from thoughts of doom.

  ‘No, don’t you remember? They’re the serviettes from the wedding.’ Mum and I spent hours in Mrs Delaney’s shop, drinking cups of tea and hemming dozens of squares of paisley, gingham and floral cotton cloth. I’d like to think my gran would be proud of me, as long as she didn’t look too closely at the crooked hems. ‘We may as well use them,’ I say. ‘Stick them on the shelves in the back and let’s go to the pub.’

  Daniel’s looking after the twins again tonight, and he’s promised not to ring unless there’s an actual emergency. I did have to remind him that running low on Sauvignon Blanc doesn’t count.

  But instead of putting away the serviettes, Kelly is peering out the window. ‘Who are those old people?’ she wonders.

  ‘Does he have a flat cap? That’s Carl and Elsie. Invite them in.’

  Kell flings open the door.

  ‘Lord, you frightened the life out of me!’ Elsie cries, grasping the brooch pinned at the neck of her blouse.

  ‘Sorry, Elsie!’ I say over Kelly’s shoulder. ‘Would you like to come in?’

  Way to give OAPs a heart attack, Kell.

  Carl takes his cap off when I introduce him to Kelly. ‘Blow me, it’s changed in here!’ He sniffs. ‘Smells better too.’

  ‘Anything is an improvement,’ says Elsie. ‘You’ve got one of those doodahs, I see.’ She points to the espresso machine on the bar. ‘Look, Carl, like they did in Rome.’

  ‘I couldn’t get a decent cup of tea in Rome,’ he mutters.

  Elsie pats his arm. ‘Now, it was only a week.’

  ‘It’s coming along,’ I agree. ‘We’ll open in two weeks. Kelly, Carl and Elsie used to come in here when it was a pub during the… Carl, are you all right?’

  He’s sunk to his knees near one of the booths.

  ‘Carl?’

  His head is under the table.

  ‘Should we call 999?’

  He mumbles something.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Do you need a doctor?’

  His mobile lights up the underside of the booth. ‘It’s here! Elsie, look. I told you!’

  Before I know it, Elsie is on the floor too with her head under the table. ‘Oh, Carl. You really did. Come look at this!’

  It’s a squeeze with us all under there. Kell and I squint to where Carl has his phone light aimed. Amongst the decades-old wads of gum and who-knows-what-else, ‘Carl Loves Elsie Forever’ is carved into the underside of the table.

  ‘After all these years, imagine,’ says Carl. ‘I told you, Els, you were always the one.’

  If that’s the case, though, then why did he marry Elsie’s sister instead?

  Carl and Elsie don’t want to stay long after professing their everlasting love under the table. On my way to the Cock and Crown, I see another familiar face. Unfortunately, she’s not as happy to see me.

  I spot Lou’s blue hair above the display case in The Co-Op. She’s hard to miss. ‘That’s Lou, my new trainee!’ I tell Kell. I’ve never seen her in this neighbourhood before. Hurrying across the road, I’m just about to raise my hand to rap on the window when she comes around the end of the aisle.

  She’s got a baby strapped to her front. Our eyes lock for a split second before she pulls up her hood and turns away.

  ‘You never said she was a mother,’ Kell says. ‘That’s tough. She’s just a kid.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’ That must be why she had to leave the other day after our espresso training. And I thought I had it hard with the twins. Imagine being seventeen, probably on your own, without a job, trying to take care of a baby.

  ‘You think that’s why she needs the work?’ Kell asks as we make our way to Uncle Colin’s pub.

  ‘I guess so. She hasn’t told me anything. Have you ever seen her around before?’

  Kell says no, like everyone else I’ve asked about Lou. No one seems to know who she is.

  It’s like she doesn’t exist.

  With the weather turning nice now, there are just a few of the regulars along the bar in the Cock. Most are outside. Uncle Barbara is pulling the pints, so Uncle Colin must have the night off.

  Uncle Barbara has really come into his own, wardrobe-wise, since being my bridesmaid. I guess wearing a flowy floral frock around all those wedding guests gave him the confidence he needed to really embrace his feminine dress sense. He used to stick to wrap dresses. Now he wears floaty ones nearly every day.

  But don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s feminine just because he likes to wear ladies’ garments. Far from it. He looks like a rugby player in a dress. With a beard.

  Uncle Colin and Uncle Barbara are my dad’s identical twin brothers and they raised their families in the flats upstairs. My cousins are all grown now and Uncle Colin’s wife spends a lot of time with her sister down in Cornwall, so we hardly ever see her. Uncle Barbara’s wife moved out after she caught him in one of her dresses, so it’s really just my two uncles who are my full-time family now at the pub.

  As comfortable as it is having everyone I know in here – which is most of the time – it’s nice when it’s just me and Kell together like this. We’ve always been surrounded by people who know us. Sometimes I like to imagine that I’m a complete stranger somewhere. Then, instead of being Emma Billings née Liddell, Elaine and Jack’s only daughter and the local pub landlord’s niece, I could be anyone I wanted. I could even be exotic (-ish).

  I suppose I got a taste of that when I took my course in town. Just being a few miles away from the neighbourhood seemed like being in a different world. And maybe I seemed like a different person by being there too.

  Daniel saw me as a part-time Open University student, juggling a job and coursework and hoping to work for a charity one day. I wonder who he’d have seen if we’d met here in East London, surrounded by my tribe, looking after Auntie Rose and Dad and spending most of my free time with Kell in Uncle Colin’s pub. Would I have been just plain old East London Emma?

  I was in the habit of keeping myself to myself in class since there wasn’t much time in my life for socialising. But Daniel drew something out of me right from the first day we met. He made me want to be like the carefree students all around us. So, when he’d invited me for a coffee a little while after, I couldn’t ignore the excitement in my tummy.

  ‘What can I get you?’ he’d asked as the aroma of freshly ground beans drew us towards the counter at the hipster coffee shop. ‘Maybe an extra-dry cappuccino?’

  I watched his expression. Surely he was taking the piss. I shook my head. ‘Would I just chew the beans?’

  The dimple I’d come to know so well appeared. ‘I’m having a flat white.’

  ‘Make mine hilly. I like to work for my coffee.’ I spotted a cabinet full of games. ‘Ooh, Scrabble.’ I was nearly as good at it as Auntie Rose. Better, if you didn’t let her cheat.

  ‘Would you like to play?’ he asked. ‘If you’v
e got time.’

  I gazed at his happy, friendly face as I thought about the usual Saturday errands I should be running. There was also Dad’s and Auntie Rose’s tea to make later. But the world wouldn’t stop spinning if I skipped the errands, and Dad was perfectly capable of feeding himself. ‘I’ve got time,’ I told Daniel.

  By the time we’d had our second date, at a charity gig that he’d organised – for his work, not just for me – my excitement had turned to something significant and it had nothing to do with the living legend we saw onstage.

  ‘Okay, so Calvin’s asked me,’ Kell says as we sit at one of the tables away from the TV.

  That can only mean one thing. ‘You’re waiting till NOW to tell me this?! What did you say?’ I glance at her hand. No ring. Though I’d have noticed it if she was wearing one. She’s not a jewellery person.

  ‘I said I don’t know. He’s asked me to go to Spain with him, Em.’

  ‘To Spain. Oh. That’s… nice.’

  It’s not nice. It’s not. It’s horrible. Kelly can’t leave me. We’re best friends. We’ve been in each other’s lives nearly every day since we were seven. Her leaving would be like losing a limb. I need her.

  ‘You’re thinking about it, though?’ I can’t believe how calm I sound. Please say no.

  ‘Yeah.’ She snatches up her drink and takes a gulp. ‘I love him, and he’s mad about me. Which is mad in itself, but there you go. And after I promised myself I wasn’t going to get involved when I knew he was leaving. You remember. We were sat right here. You’re the one who said I should go out with him. Now look what’s happened.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re in love. I’m such a dick for encouraging that.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it,’ she says. ‘It crept up on me. One minute I couldn’t be bothered and now I can’t stop thinking about him.’

  ‘Well, love does do that,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to decide right away. This is a big move. It would mean leaving the business, right? Is there anyone else who can take over?’

  We both know there’s no one. We’ve known that since Kell was sixteen and her sisters all refused, leaving her as her dad’s last choice to keep the fish van in the family.

  I’m a terrible friend. I’m feeding her reasons to say no to Calvin, though mostly not out loud. You’ll scupper your family’s business. They’ll be disappointed in you. And think how you’ll miss them. Besides, you don’t speak Spanish, you get freckly in the sun and airfares would be ridiculous to come home at Christmas.

  Anything but the truth: that I selfishly want Kell to stay because I need her.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here,’ she says, looking pointedly past me towards the door. ‘Daniel’s just walked in. S’pose he kept his promise. At least he isn’t ringing you.’

  Daniel? Daniel who is supposed to be minding our children?

  He bounds over to kiss me, but I duck him. ‘What are you doing here? Where are the twins?’

  He pats his pockets. ‘They were here a minute ago.’ He – sensibly – decides to sit next to Kell instead of me. ‘They’re with your parents, darling. When I rang your mum earlier she asked if she could take them. I couldn’t rahly deny a grandmother her wish, could I?’

  ‘But I could have left them with my parents,’ I point out. ‘You were supposed to mind them.’

  He grimaces sheepishly through his sigh. ‘But it’s rahly hard! Your parents are naturals.’

  ‘I know it’s hard, Daniel, I do it all the time, remember? How are you supposed to learn to do it if you don’t do it?’

  He reaches for my hand across the table. ‘Just so I’m clear, Em, you’re cross with me because I’ve let your parents have our children for an hour so I could be with you?’

  ‘No! I’m cross because instead of just getting on with looking after them, like I have to do every single day, you foist them off on my parents the second it seems too hard.’

  ‘I’ll get us a round,’ Kell says, escaping from the domestic that’s brewing.

  ‘It was only for a few hours,’ I say. ‘Couldn’t you have managed instead of putting it on my parents?’

  His normally jovial expression turns sour. ‘I feel like you’re trying to punish me, Emma, by having me look after the children. It’s not supposed to be some kind of test, you know, for me to pass or fail. I didn’t bring them to your parents because I don’t love them or want to look after them. I just thought it would be nice to come meet you for a drink when your parents suggested it. We haven’t done that for ages. Sorry for thinking that you’d like that.’

  ‘What I’d like is for you to take responsibility sometimes instead of making me and my parents do everything. Why do I always have to be the one? If you’re not texting every two minutes with questions, then you’re getting my parents to do your job for you. What I’d like is for you to be a parent like I’ve got to be. THAT’S what I’d like.’

  ‘That rahly hurts, Emma. I am a parent and I only wanted to surprise you.’

  I sigh. I can’t win. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I want you to know how I feel.’

  Armed with our drinks, Kelly walks back into the chilly atmosphere. It’s not exactly an ice age, but there’s a noticeable drop in temperature.

  Chapter 7

  Just try holding a grudge against Daniel when he’s being so sweet. I did my best, at least till we left the pub. He was right, though. He rumbled me when he mentioned punishment, because wasn’t that what I was doing? I was testing him, at least. Besides, it has been ages since we’ve been out together. So even though it was definitely wrong to hand the children over to my parents, I’ve got to admit that I felt more like myself than I have in a long time. Maybe that’s all I need, a little reminder every so often that I’m still in here. Underneath the puke-stained top and sleep-deprived stare and the faint aroma of dirty nappies, I am still me.

  And while I’m being so critical of Daniel for taking my parents for granted, I should probably look at myself. Haven’t I left the twins with Mum and Dad a lot lately? I didn’t have much choice while the pub was under renovation. Social Services would have stepped in if I’d let Oscar and Grace toddle around in their Bob the Builder safety hats while we were stripping varnish and ripping up carpets. But that’s all done now. The café is as safe and clean as it will be when we open.

  Something tells me Mum and Dad aren’t going to like the new arrangement I’ve got in mind.

  They’re all up when I get to the house. Dad’s making a fry-up while Auntie Rose sits at the kitchen table calling out clues from the crossword puzzle. Not that she ever waits for anyone else to come up with the answer.

  Back in the lounge, the twins are wriggling to get out of the pushchair. ‘Come here, loves.’ Mum goes to unsnap their safety belts.

  ‘That’s okay, Mum, leave them in. I can take them with me this morning.’

  ‘What? Why?’ she says, frowning. ‘Have we done something wrong?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then I don’t see why you’re taking them away. Jack! Emma’s taking the twins with her.’

  Dad hurries in on his crutches. ‘Why’s that, love? They’re no trouble. We love having them.’

  If I tell them how guilty I’m feeling, then we’ll have to have a big long discussion about it and I’ll be late to meet Lou and Joseph.

  ‘I know you don’t mind having them, but it’s not fair to have you looking after them all day every day while I’m working. I’m going to need to figure out how to have them in the café with me anyway, and we’re just doing some training today, so it’s a good day to start. And speaking of being fair, I’m sorry that Daniel left the twins with you last night. He shouldn’t have done that. He was meant to be looking after them, not you.’

  Mum shakes her head. ‘But we don’t mind. We’re just glad we’re here to be in their lives. Well, you remember how nice it was having your gran around. We only wish that Philippa and Hugh were able to see them more.’

  Mum likes saving us the trouble of
pointing out all the ways that she’s a better grandmother than Philippa, so she usually just does it herself.

  Mum’s right, my gran was the best. She and Auntie Rose were as big a part of my life as Mum and Dad were. When Gran died, Auntie Rose came to live with us. Home wouldn’t be home without her here.

  Dad’s parents are another story. Even before they showed their true colours when it came to Uncle Barbara –that’s what Mum calls them, and true colours aren’t a compliment – they were unpleasant, paranoid people who smelled of Pot Noodles and kept the heating on all summer just because it came free with the rent. I definitely didn’t miss having them around.

  ‘Even so,’ I say, ‘can you please not offer next time? I know you want to help, but why should Daniel miss out on all those fun nappy changes?’

  ‘Whatever you want, love,’ Dad says. ‘But I’ll miss my little sidekicks. You’ll bring them round tomorrow?’

  I smirk. ‘Shall I just drop them off or will I be able to stay too?’ But he knows I’m not offended that he might prefer my children to me.

  When I wheel the twins outside, I find Mrs Ishtiaque pottering in her garden. The houses in the road are all the same as Mum and Dad’s – red-brick, two-storey, council-built in the 1950s – and most of the neighbours don’t bother much with their gardens until well into spring. But Mrs Ishtiaque has blooms for all seasons. It’s a wash of colour over the low brick wall, and not just the usual daffs and crocuses either. The only other neighbour with flowers at this time of year is that Sheila Dakin across the road, but she’s got airs and graces according to Mum, so it’s no surprise.

  There’s nothing stuck up about Mrs Ishtiaque, though. She might wear the most beautiful sarees even when she digs in her borders – pale green with silver threads today – but she’s totally down-to-earth and unflappable. She leans over the wall to stroke the twins’ heads. ‘Emma, I am making mutton curry tonight. Would you like to be having tea with us?’

  She’s also been my curry connection since I wore plaits to school. Mum did try to spice up our meals, bless her, but her culinary journeys were more to Blackpool than Bangladesh.