Michele Gorman - The Second Chance Café in Carlton Square

Lou shrugs. ‘Knock yourself out.’

I’m intrigued and a little scared by her. She seems so self-contained, older than her seventeen years. I know she needs this job – she said so in her interview – but the question is: why? Does she just need the money like any other normal teenager, or is there something else?

I know it’s still early days, but already the differences between them are stark. Joseph’s got all the enthusiasm and Lou’s probably got all the skill. I just hope they draw even by the time we open.

Joseph goes behind the bar to wait for instructions. ‘Lou, pretend you’re a customer,’ I say, ‘and order anything we’ve practised today. Joseph, treat Lou like a real customer, not like Lou, okay?’

‘Yes, madam, what would you like?’ he says, imitating Pablo’s prayer hands.

Lou thinks for a moment. ‘A half-caff double-shot no-foam fat-free latte.’

‘Boss!’ Joseph whines. ‘Tell her she can’t do that.’

‘Sorry, Joseph. She’s the customer. Did you write it down? Lou, that’s cruel.’

‘The customer is always right,’ she says.

I go behind the bar to help Joseph, who’s starting to sweat. ‘Lou, find a table, please. Joseph will bring your order when it’s ready.’

She looks doubtfully at all the pastel before scooting into a booth. ‘Those are nice.’ She takes one of Mum’s fancy teapots off the shelf above her head, turning it over to look at the maker’s name. ‘You’ve got a lot of these.’

‘More than twenty. They’re all my mum’s. She’s got a thing for old Staffordshire teapots. There’s not really room for them at home so she’s letting me use them to decorate in here. I’m not sure about using them for the customers, though. I’d hate to break one.’

‘Why have them if you don’t use them? You may as well sell them otherwise. They’re probably worth something. Have you checked? I could look online for you.’

Alarm bells start ringing. I don’t want Lou valuing my mother’s teapot collection. What if that’s why she’s in trouble with the Old Bill? She might have been arrested for fencing fancy teapots. And I’ve plonked her right in the middle of another potential heist. ‘They’re quite fragile,’ I tell her. ‘I promised Mum we’d keep them on the shelf.’

That’s a lie, but she takes the hint and puts the teapot back. Now I’m worried they’ll get nicked.

Joseph finally gets the coffee right after the third go, but the whole order takes about ten minutes. Which is fine if we’re only planning to have one customer at a time in the café. ‘Good,’ I tell him. ‘We’ll work on that some more, okay? Go give Lou her coffee.’

Carefully he carries the cup to her table.

She sends him back for a spoon.

‘Certainly, madam, anything you want.’ He gives her the spoon with a flourish.

‘And a serviette? You’ve spilled a drop here.’

He trudges back to the bar for serviettes. ‘Anything else?’ he calls.

‘No.’

He brings the serviette.

‘Except sugar.’

‘Boss!’

‘Lou, thank you for making the important point that we’ve got to anticipate the customer’s needs. Now it’s your turn. Up here, please.’

Joseph can’t stop grinning about their role change.

‘What do you want?’ Lou asks him.

‘That’s how you ask a customer for their order?’ I say. ‘I thought you said you were used to looking after people. Maybe you could be nicer.’

‘This is me being nicer.’

‘Then pretend you’re talking to Father Christmas. Be that nice.’

‘I’ll have the same as you,’ Joseph says. ‘Half-caff no-foam fat-free latte, only don’t make the coffee too hot and I’ll have a triple shot. I’ll just be over here when it’s ready.’

He strolls to a table, brushes off the seat and sits down.

Lou’s just about to start the grind when her phone starts ringing. ‘Yeah? Okay. No, don’t. I will.’ Hanging up she says, ‘I’ve gotta go.’

‘But we’re not finished yet. We’re still training.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to. Really, I’m sorry.’

‘Are you okay, Lou? You look a bit–’

She rushes from the café.

Frantic.

‘I hope she’s not going to do that all the time,’ says Joseph. ‘It’s hard to keep good help these days. But I can still get my coffee, yeah boss?’ He nods towards the Gaggia, sending me off to make my trainee’s half-caff no-foam fat-free not-too-hot triple-shot latte.

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