Josephine Cox - Live the Dream

Although, at twenty-four, Amy was just two years older than Daisy, she had a calmer, deeper nature, and that special ability to put people at their ease; whether it be through her engaging smile, or her easy, friendly manner.

She was not dazzlingly attractive, but she had a certain magnetism that seemed to draw people to her. Her face was small and heart-shaped, with a halo of light brown hair that fell in natural waves about her ears, and her mouth was generous, with full lips upturned at the corners, like a smile waiting to happen. Her eyes were her best feature, though – deepest blue with a naughty twinkle. Small of build, she had a slight figure, and it only took a few minutes of knowing her to realise she had a warm, open heart.

Daisy knew what Amy would order, but she asked all the same. ‘You’d best make your mind up,’ she urged. ‘Any minute now, I could be rushed off my feet.’

Amy looked about the half-empty café: there was the man by the window; a little old couple in the corner, Daisy and herself. ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that just yet,’ she teased, ‘but just in case, I’ll have a pot of tea … and one of your toasted barm cakes.’

Daisy shook her head. ‘Sorry, no can do. The toaster blew up. We’re waiting for the fella to come and mend it.’ She laughed. ‘You should have seen it this time … there was a big bang and the bloody toast went flying in all directions. Come and look.’

Amused, Amy followed her. ‘Not again? That’s the third time!’

Daisy shrugged. ‘There must be a fault somewhere.’

Smiling, Amy shook her head in disbelief. ‘It’s you. You’re the “fault”. You’re not supposed to snatch the plug from the wall every time you think the toast is done enough. You have to switch it off first.’

‘Then it burns the toast!’

‘That’s because you haven’t got the setting right.’

‘It’s a nuisance! I don’t like the bloody thing. I never have.’

‘So, use the grill instead.’

‘Mrs Tooley won’t let me. She says she’s not spending good money on new things for me to ignore them. That toaster is her pride and joy. I’m to use it, and that’s an end to it. I did use the grill once, when the toaster went wrong and she tore me off a strip for making a mess everywhere.’

‘But Mrs Tooley only comes of an evening to collect her takings.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

Amy explained, ‘Well, now that she’s got her new fancy man, she hardly ever shows up here during the day, so she won’t know you’re using the grill – not if you clean it up half an hour before she arrives.’

As the possibilities dawned on her, Daisy’s frown became a wide, cunning grin. ‘You’re right!’ she gasped. ‘I’ll use the old things and clean ’em up before she gets here!’

‘I’m glad that’s settled!’ Amy knew how to put a smile on Daisy’s face. ‘So now, can I please have my tea and barm cake?’ Feeling mischievous, she teased, ‘And while you’re gone, I’ll have a word with the stranger. I’ll find out who he is and where he’s from. Oh, and you’ll want to know if he’s married or if he’s got a girlfriend, and whether he’s well off or stony-broke, in which case you won’t want to know any more about him and we’ll all get some peace. OK?’

Daisy knew she was being teased and went along with it. ‘While you’re at it, happen you’d best ask if he lives local, ’cos I followed him one time and he suddenly disappeared – went down a side street and was gone like will-o’-the-wisp.’ She threw her arms wide and opened her hands to demonstrate.

Amy was surprised. ‘You never told me you followed him!’

‘No, because you’d have told me off good and proper.’

‘Quite right too.’ Amy put on her most severe, reprimanding look. ‘Following men down alleyways … what if he’d turned round and attacked you?’

Daisy chuckled. ‘I should be so lucky!’ She glanced through the kitchen door at the man. ‘Anyhow, does he look like the sort who would attack anyone?’

Amy followed her glance. ‘Maybe not, but you never know.’

He was certainly a mystery, she thought. Although as Daisy said, he didn’t seem like the sort who would turn on a woman. There was a kind of gentle strength about him that would protect rather than hurt.

‘I’ll get your order,’ Daisy said, adding hopefully, ‘I bet you won’t dare speak to him while I’m gone.’

Amy continued the charade. ‘If I do, and providing he gives all the right answers, I’ll ask him if he’ll take you on a date, because you fancy him summat rotten.’

‘Oh, I wish you would,’ Daisy sighed. ‘Three whole months he’s been coming here. Almost every Tuesday without fail, and I don’t even know his name!’

Realising she would have to wait for her breakfast, Amy resigned herself to listening while Daisy chatted on about the ‘Tuesday man’.

Taking a moment to observe this busy, bumbling person she had come to know so well, Amy took in the big brown eyes, the shock of wild auburn hair and the pretty face with its multitude of freckles over a pretty, pert nose. Short and voluptuous, outgoing and friendly, Daisy was once seen never forgotten.

Amy thought of Daisy’s miserable home life, with the constantly feuding parents.

For as long as Amy had known her, Daisy had suffered wretchedly at the hands of her selfish, boorish parents. Their noisy, sometimes violent, arguments, often fuelled by drink, meant that Daisy could never invite Amy to her home. In Mrs Tooley’s fuggy little café, Daisy could escape the unhappiness of her home by chatting with the customers, teasing and joking with the friendly regulars, and even flirting a little with the men. In this way, Daisy could create some much-needed fun in her life.

‘Look, Daisy … don’t get too infatuated with your Tuesday man,’ Amy warned. ‘If he’d wanted you to know who he is, I’m sure he would have told you.’

‘But he wants to talk,’ Daisy confided, ‘I can tell that much. Sometimes he looks so sad, and sometimes he smiles at me and I want to sit next to him like I’m sitting next to you, only he looks away, just when I think I’m getting through to him.’

Amy shook her head. ‘Maybe he’s not such a “mystery”,’ she said quietly. ‘Maybe he comes in here because he lives alone and needs to be amongst people. Or maybe he comes in here because he’s got a wife and ten children and he can’t get any peace at home. Either way, if he needs to be quiet and alone for whatever reason, it’s his choice and you should respect that.’

Casting a sideways glance out at the man, Amy sensed his loneliness. Daisy was right: he was a mystery – always preoccupied, head bent to his newspaper, while not seeming to be actually reading it. Instead he appeared to be deep in thought. Sometimes he would raise his head and gaze out of the window, before eventually returning to his newspaper or thoughtfully sipping his tea.

He never looked at the other customers; in fact it was as though he was totally oblivious to them. It was a curious thing.

‘What are you thinking?’ Daisy’s voice cut through her thoughts.

Amy looked up, her voice quiet as she answered, ‘I just think he deserves to be left alone.’ She smiled fondly at the other young woman. ‘Not everybody’s like you, Daisy,’ she pointed out. ‘Some people really do like their own company.’

Daisy shifted her gaze to the man. For a long moment she didn’t say anything, but there was a troubled look in her eyes.

‘Daisy, are you all right?’ Reaching out, Amy closed her hand over Daisy’s. ‘Has something happened at home?’

Daisy shook her head. ‘It’s the same,’ she confided with a sad little smile, ‘always the same.’ Drawing away her hand she added brightly, ‘Here’s me chatting away and you cold and famished. Sorry, love. I’ll go an’ get yer breakfast.’