Josephine Cox - Live the Dream

‘But something’s wrong, isn’t it?’ Amy had learned to read the signs. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Daisy shook her head.

‘All right, but I’m a good listener if you need me.’

Daisy gave that little smile again. ‘I know that.’ With a roll of her eyes, she looked over to where the man was closing his newspaper. ‘If only a man like that could sweep me up and carry me off, it would solve everything.’

‘Oh, Daisy. You can’t mean that!’

‘Why not?’

‘Well …’

Amy took another discreet look at him. He was certainly handsome, there was no denying that, with his long easy limbs, fine sensual lips and that dark brown tumble of hair. Once, when he looked up at the clock over the counter, Amy had caught sight of his dark, brooding eyes. There was something about him that stirred the senses.

‘Hey!’ Daisy gave her a prod. ‘You were saying …?’

Ashamed and startled at her own thoughts, Amy returned, ‘I just don’t think it would solve your problems to run off with some stranger and, besides, like you said yourself, you don’t know the first thing about him.’

‘But if he carried me off, I’d soon find out, wouldn’t I? Anyway, what’s to know? He pays his bill with proper money, and he always treats me with respect. Leaves a tip he does, and smiles up at me when I serve him.’ She gave a girlish giggle. ‘Anyway, even if it turned out he was some sort of rogue, he’s so good-looking it wouldn’t matter a bugger! A man like that … I could forgive him anything!’

Amy was alarmed. ‘You’re too trusting.’

‘And you’re too bloody suspicious!’

Amy changed tack. ‘I’m also cold and hungry, and I’ve changed my mind about the barm cake. I fancy a hot meat-and-tatty pie … with a helping of mushy peas and a dollop of that awful gravy you make.’

Daisy bounced over to the fridge. ‘Don’t get cheeky, lass,’ she wagged a warning finger, ‘or I might refuse to serve you. In fact, I might shut up shop and lock myself in … with him !’ She winked as she went. ‘And it’s no good you getting jealous, ’cos I’m the manager here and what I say goes.’ With that she sauntered off to open a tin of peas and suddenly, softly started to sing.

‘Whatever makes you happy,’ Amy chuckled, resuming a seat at her table.

She looked across at the man and when he unexpectedly smiled at her, her heart took a leap. For what seemed an age he held her gaze before turning away.

Confused and embarrassed, she fumbled in her shopping bag. Drawing out this month’s Woman and Home , she opened it up and spreading it across the table, pretended to read. In her mind’s eye she saw his smile, soft and friendly, reaching out to her … and those wonderful dark eyes! Daisy was right. He was devilishly handsome, and yet, there was such sadness about him – a kind of lost look that had touched her deeply.

‘What you got there?’ Daisy was back. Placing Amy’s order in front of her, she turned the page of the magazine. ‘Heck! Look at that!’ Pointing to the elegant model in centre-page, she called Amy’s attention to the blue spotted dress with thick belt and flared hem, ‘ How much! ’ Her look of rapture turned to one of horror. ‘One and ten! I’d have to work a whole month before I could buy that!’

Amy wasn’t listening. Something else had alerted her. Strangely uneasy, she turned to see the man looking straight at her again. He held her gaze for a second or two, then he stood up and walked towards the door with long easy strides. ‘I think your mystery man is leaving,’ Amy told Daisy quietly.

‘What!’ Looking up, Daisy saw the door close behind him. ‘Damn! He always does that to me!’

Amy tutted mischievously. ‘What? You mean he sneaks off without paying?’

‘No, you daft ha’pporth!’ Daisy groaned. ‘He always leaves his money on the table. I wish he’d pay at the counter, then I might get chance to quiz him a bit.’

Amy’s curious gaze followed him as he went past the window and away down the street. ‘Maybe next time,’ she said quietly. ‘But I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.’ Because there was a man who had a lot on his mind, she thought, and he wasn’t about to share his secrets with anyone at Tooley’s Café.

Just then two more customers arrived, a middle-aged woman with a younger woman who, judging by the argument going on, appeared to be her daughter. ‘What in God’s name d’yer think you’re playing at?’ demanded the older woman. ‘By! If your dad knew, he’d hit the roof!’

‘I don’t give a bugger what he says!’ snapped the younger woman. ‘It’s his fault I’m leaving. Miserable old git, I don’t know how you’ve put up with him all these years!’

Daisy groaned. ‘Bleedin’ Nora! It’s them two! Argue all the time, they do. I’ve a good mind to bar the pair of ’em.’

Amy couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Good customers, are they?’

Daisy nodded. ‘Three times a week, regular as clockwork: two full breakfasts and gallons of tea.’

‘Right!’ Amy gave her a shove. ‘What you do is shut your ears … if you can bear not to eavesdrop. Then you smile, and serve them and take their money when they’ve finished. And now if you please, I’d like my breakfast.’ With that she gave Daisy another shove and Daisy toddled off to ask the other customers, ‘What can I get you, ladies?’ And back came the swift answer, ‘Piss orf. Can’t yer see we’re not ready yet!’

Cursing under her breath, Daisy quickened her steps to the kitchen; while Amy, having heard the whole thing, found it hard not to laugh out loud.

When behind her, the argument raged on between the two women, she looked up to see Daisy, elbows resting on the counter, ears pricked and eavesdropping like a good ’un. ‘That’s my Daisy!’ she chuckled. ‘Can’t resist a good argument.’

Amy loved her Tuesday shopping, and her regular stop-off at Tooley’s Café because rain or shine, there was always something going on.

Then, as thoughts of the man came into her mind, her amusement turned to concern. What made him so afraid to reach out, she wondered. What was it in his life that put the sadness in those deep, dark eyes?

Like Daisy she would have loved to know more about him.

She glanced out the window but he was long gone. ‘A burden shared is a burden halved,’ she murmured. And he had seemed to want to talk, she thought. Just for that split second or two when he held her gaze, he had seemed to be reaching out to her.

But then again, maybe it was only her imagination.

‘WHAT PLANS HAVE you got for tonight, lass?’ Strikingly pretty, small-built like Amy, and with the same bright smile and brown hair, Marie Atkinson was mild-tempered and of a kindly nature. ‘Off somewhere exciting are you?’

It was a Friday evening and Amy was busy emptying the till in the shop. She glanced up at her mother. ‘I might go to the pictures with Daisy.’

‘Hmm! Sounds like a good idea.’ When she was younger, Marie had always fancied herself as a film star. ‘What’s on?’

Concentrating on separating the silver coins from the less valuable copper ones, Amy said, ‘I think it’s Charles King in The Broadway Melody .’

Marie liked the sound of that. ‘By! If your dad weren’t coming home tonight, I might have joined you,’ she said dreamily. ‘Ooh! I do like Charles King.’ She tap-danced on the spot. ‘Feet of magic and a smile that turns you inside out. I wouldn’t mind a little twirl with him.’

Amy laughed. ‘Don’t give me that! If it was a choice between Dad and Charles King, you’d pick Dad every time.’