Chapter 8

Fred arrived minutes after opening time but by a quarter to one no one else had come in. Gavin did the crossword much to Jenny's indignation.

"Do it in pencil and then rub it out so that I can do it later," she commanded.

Gavin just chuckled so she went off to natter to James in the kitchen.

"I do hope some people come in," she said.

"They will," said James cheerfully. "A lie in and a late breakfast on a Sunday morning, they'll be in no hurry."

"They could still come in for a drink after church."

"All twenty of them?" James grinned. "I'll have a word with the vicar: short sermons and large hunks of stale bread for Communion."

"Oh!" exclaimed Jenny exasperatedly. "I could smack you."

"Oooh! Can I smack your botty back?"

Jenny burst with laughter. "You're a very cheeky man," she stuttered.

"Especially yours," retorted James.

Jenny pealed with laughter again.

"You are a very rude man as well and I love you."

"Good! That makes two of us."

"What? You conceited..."

"Love each other, you poop."

Jenny laughed once more. "Oh, darling! You've cheered me up." She leaned over the worktop. "Kiss?"

James obliged and they both stood back.

"Love you," they both said softly together.

Jenny went back to the bar and was quickly rewarded. Within ten minutes four young parents with small children, two of them babies, came in for lunch. Moments later four friends in their sixties arrived. There was barely a pause before more people came in, mostly the older generation. Before they knew where they were there were twenty-four orders placed.

James stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Help, darling!" he said.

"All right?" she asked Gavin, who nodded, and vanished to help James.

They succeeded. Nobody had to wait more than twenty minutes before they received their order.

In the meanwhile a few more had come in and so Jenny had to go back to the kitchen to get puddings ready while James kept up with the main courses. Nevertheless, it eased off and allowed both of them to work the tables for a short while. Jenny made a beeline for the young families. James went to the older generation. When asked about a pensioners' mid-week lunch they all liked the idea but said that they could not afford both. On the other hand they would welcome the choice of coming on a Sunday or mid-week.

James arrived at a table of four, one man in his middle forties, two women a little younger and a pretty girl in her late teens with dark shoulder length hair and huge brown eyes. All were nicely dressed but one woman and the girl's clothes looked as though they had seen better days.

James chatted with them and the better-dressed couple, Terry and Margaret Jones, were very complimentary about the food. As James began to move away Margaret hissed, "Ask him."

"I can't," came the whispered reply.

James turned. "What can't you ask?" he said gently.

The woman blushed and shook her head. Her daughter looked down.

Margaret took the other woman's hand. "Go on, Jean dear."

Jean looked at James, the start of tears in her eyes. "I need a job," she said, "and wondered if you could help. You did say you were on the look out for staff in your flyer." She gulped with embarrassment. "Libby could do with one too."

James smiled at her. "I'm sure we can help," he said, "but not a huge amount. Look, I'm still pretty busy so why don't you have some pudding and coffee by which time things may a bit easier and we'll have a chat."

Jean looked at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said. "I ... um ... oh, never mind."

James smiled at her again. "Talk to you later," he said. "In the meanwhile, I'll send Gavin or Jenny over with the pudding board."

He gave Terry a gesture from behind Jean's back and went back to the bar.

Terry waited and then, with the excuse that he wanted another drink, went up to the bar. James was at one end away from the customers.

"Tell me very briefly," he said.

"Army widow," said Terry. "Husband died of wounds three months ago. Forces Widows' Pension insufficient even though Libby's won a scholarship to university. Jean's very proud. We had to press her into applying for benefits."

"OK," said James. "That's enough for the moment. Thanks. We'll stand you pudding if you weren't planning to have it."

"That's very kind but no you won't. I'd better have another glass of your Shiraz to take back."

James poured it for him. "This is on the house," he said handing it to him.

Terry smiled his thanks and went back to his table.

It was three o'clock before James got a break although he managed to brief Jenny. Gavin would hold the bar but come and get one of them if needed. Jenny went up to the flat and James walked over to the table where Jean and Libby were sitting.

"We're both free for the moment," he said to Jean. "Would you like to come up to our flat and have a chat with Jenny and me. Tell you what. To avoid any embarrassment go out with Terry and Margaret and I'll meet you in the car park and you can come in through the back door."

Jean smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks," she said.

They left a few minutes later and James collected mother and daughter, leading them through the kitchen and up to the flat.

"This is my wife, Jenny," he said and then with a smile added, "it sounds awfully familiar, Jean and her daughter Libby."

"Morris," said Jean.

"Hello, both of you," said Jenny with a smile. "Sit yourselves down. Is it too soon after lunch for a cup of tea?"

"Just a bit, thank you," said Jean. "It's very kind of you to go out of your way for us like this, particularly as you're still open."

"Don't worry," said Jenny. "Gavin'll give us a shout if we're needed. Now, how can we help you?"

"Well, as I told your husband, we both need a job."

"Have you tried the Jobcentre?"

"No. As things stand, I can't afford the bus fare into Pitsbury." She paused looking thoroughly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Tell them, Mum," whispered Libby.

Jean took a deep breath and clenched her fists. "My husband was a major in the Army. Eighteen months ago he was severely wounded in Iraq and invalided out of the army. We didn't have any savings because we'd been sending Libby to a private school and, despite the education allowance from the army, the balance of the fees took everything else apart from normal household expenses. Then in June Martin died and our only income is my widow's pension. We could normally just about get by on that but I still have to pay the extras on Libby's last term at school. I'm on Income Support but because of the capital in our house I can't get Council Tax Benefit. To get Income Support I have to be available for work. The trouble is that, living out here, I can't afford the bus fare to go into Pitsbury to look for work. I've got to find something soon because Libby goes to university next year and, although she won a scholarship, it's still going to be expensive. So you see, I need some work to be able to find work."