his deerstalker from its hook and placed it carefully on his head in an act of self-coronation.
His new waitresses arrived together at half-past eight. He had a surprise for them.
‘Here you are,’ he said, holding out the uniforms: black dresses with frilly white aprons, exactly as he had imagined. ‘Ought to fit. Maureen reckoned she knew your sizes. She’s wearing one herself.’
Gaia forced back a laugh as Maureen stalked into the delicatessen from the café, smiling at them. She was wearing Dr Scholl’s sandals over her black stockings. Her dress finished two inches above her wrinkled knees.
‘You can change in the staff room, girls,’ she said, indicating the place from which Howard had just emerged.
Gaia was already pulling off her jeans beside the staff toilet when she saw Sukhvinder’s expression.
‘Whassamatter, Sooks?’ she asked.
The new nickname gave Sukhvinder the courage to say what she might otherwise have been unable to voice.
‘I can’t wear this,’ she whispered.
‘Why?’ asked Gaia. ‘You’ll look OK.’
But the black dress had short sleeves.
‘I can’t.’
‘But wh — Jesus,’ said Gaia.
Sukhvinder had pulled back the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Her inner arms were covered in ugly criss-cross scars, and angry fresh-clotted cuts travelled up from her wrist to her inner arm.
‘Sooks,’ said Gaia quietly. ‘What are you playing at, mate?’
Sukhvinder shook her head, with her eyes full of tears.
Gaia thought for a moment, then said, ‘I know — come here.’
She was stripping off her long-sleeved T-shirt.
The door suffered a big blow and the imperfectly closed bolt shot open: a sweating Andrew was halfway inside, carrying two weighty packs of toilet rolls, when Gaia’s angry shout stopped him in his tracks. He tripped out backwards, into Maureen.
‘They’re changing in there,’ she said, in sour disapproval.
‘Mr Mollison told me to put these in the staff bathroom.’
Holy shit, holy shit. She had been stripped to her bra and pants. He had seen nearly everything.
‘Sorry,’ Andrew yelled at the closed door. His whole face was throbbing with the force of his blush.
‘Wanker,’ muttered Gaia, on the other side. She was holding out her T-shirt to Sukhvinder. ‘Put it on underneath the dress.’
‘That’ll look weird.’
‘Never mind. You can get a black one for next week, it’ll look like you’re wearing long sleeves. We’ll tell him some story…’
‘She’s got eczema,’ Gaia announced, when she and Sukhvinder emerged from the staff room, fully dressed and aproned. ‘All up her arms. It’s a bit scabby.’
‘Ah,’ said Howard, glancing at Sukhvinder’s white T-shirted arms and then back at Gaia, who looked every bit as gorgeous as he had hoped.
‘I’ll get a black one for next week,’ said Sukhvinder, unable to look Howard in the eye.
‘Fine,’ he said, patting Gaia in the small of her back as he sent the pair of them through to the café. ‘Brace yourselves,’ he called to his staff at large. ‘We’re nearly there… doors open, please, Maureen!’
There was already a little knot of customers waiting on the pavement. A sign outside read: The Copper Kettle, Opening Today — First Coffee Free!
Andrew did not see Gaia again for hours. Howard kept him busy heaving milk and fruit juices up and down the steep cellar steps, and swabbing the floor of the small kitchen area at the back. He was given a lunch break earlier than either of the waitresses. The next glimpse he got of her was when Howard summoned him to the counter of the café, and they passed within inches of each other as she walked in the other direction, towards the back room.
‘We’re swamped, Mr Price!’ said Howard, in high good humour. ‘Get yourself a clean apron and mop down some of these tables for me while Gaia has her lunch!’
Miles and Samantha Mollison had sat down with their two daughters and Shirley at a table in the window.
‘It seems to be going awfully well, doesn’t it?’ Shirley said, looking around. ‘But what on earth is that Jawanda girl wearing under her dress?’
‘Bandages?’ suggested Miles, squinting across the room.
‘Hi, Sukhvinder!’ called Lexie, who knew her from primary school.
‘Don’t shout, darling,’ Shirley reproved her granddaughter, and Samantha bristled.
Maureen emerged from behind the counter in her short black dress and frilly apron, and Shirley corpsed into her coffee.
‘Oh dear,’ she said quietly, as Maureen walked towards them, beaming.
It was true, Samantha thought, Maureen looked ridiculous, especially next to a pair of sixteen-year-olds in identical dresses, but she was not going to give Shirley the satisfaction of agreeing with her. She turned ostentatiously away, watching the boy mopping tables nearby. He was spare but