Page 21 of The Custard Tart Cafe by the Sea
“I’ll pop to the loo in a bit and take a look,” I say. “I’m glad I’m wearing jeans, they’ve borne the brunt of it.”
“Look,” Kelly says quickly. “I know it’s the last thing you’ll want to be thinking of on holiday, which is why I’m bringing it up before we set foot on Portuguese soil: have you heard anything else after thatdreadful petition? I’m not a violent person but I will wring the neck of whoever did that to my dear friend, if our paths should cross.”
“You and me both!” Radhika is suddenly awake. “Something tells me it could only be a man.” Her eyes narrow.
My hands shake at the thought of my two friends on the warpath… and the guy they don’t know they’re on the warpath with being seated right behind me. And I spill the remnants of the tea over my lap. Why did Kelly have to say that last bit so loudly. Why the emphasis on those words?
“Can anything go right today?” I blurt out pathetically. I really am playing right into his hands. This is so humiliating.
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry, hun. We’ll stay off the subject. Here,” Kelly says, dabbing away pointlessly with her solitary napkin at my three-quarter lengths, which are now sodden.
Despite my current state, I can’t help but think back to my friends’ recent visit to the bakery, unable to believe they haven’t yet put two and two together with regards to my even-barmier-than-usual tart ideas and the very reason for their invention, the clear and constant threat that said issuer of petitions poses, the fragile state of my mental health. Clearly Kelly and Radhika have been too preoccupied with the holiday.
How I had dithered at the front of the counter when they came in that day, one minute trying to shield my whacky invention, the next wanting to announce its debut from the rooftops:
“You haven’t?” Radhika had peered at the tarts on the shelf once I’d finally decided to move back behind the counter.
“I have,” I’d affirmed, unperturbed by her astonished face.
“B-but…” Radhika had tripped over her words.
And then I’d let out a few mini chortles, because I am only human.
“What’s up?” Kelly had asked, cottoning on to the action.
“You don’t want to know,” Radhika replied, as if she’d just spied a rat scurrying across the tops of mynatas.
Unable to resist the temptation, Kelly took a look for herself, gritting her teeth so hard once she saw that she looked like a ventriloquist.
“Erm, Willow? Have you completely lost your mind?” she finally said.
“You’re looking at the prosecco and custard tarts,” snorted Radhika. “Let me assure you, those pale in comparison with these.” She waved a hand loosely in the direction of my newest creation and looked the other way, as if she couldn’t handle viewing the offending items for a second longer.
“Crisp tarts!” Kelly shrieked. “Please tell me that’s merely referring to their texture… and not the fact that you have stuffed them with potato chips!”
Well, now here Kelly was being a hypocrite. This critique was coming from the woman who thinks it’s acceptable to offer her customers tahini and hummus in an ice cream scoop. “Fried slivers of potato covered in oil and topped with salt. Are you serious?”
“Not entirely, no.” I came clean. “I did it to infuriate somebody should they dare to set foot in here again.”
Now I am snapped back to the present again, by my rather pressing need to visit the facilities. The food and drinks trolley has now returned to the galley at the front of the aircraft and a toddler and his mum have just vacated the loos, so the vacant sign is illuminated. I’m going for it. This can’t possibly wait until we land.
I walk as elegantly and as nonchalantly as I can, bearing in mind I look as if I have already peed myself. Once locked inside the tiny cubicle, I frown once at the thin paper towel dispenser, which will do nothing to help my soaked crotch predicament, and I frown twice at my blue reflection. On second thoughts, it really does suit my current Eeyore mood. But there’s no point trying to get rid of my new look now. I attend to my business and steel myself for the short walk back to row seven.
Oh, great! Brilliantly timed, Willow.
Of course, once I emerge, I am stuck behind the tax free goods trolley, and of course somebody in row six is all a dither, bombarding the flight attendant with daft questions about a watch that they might finally decide to purchase if they can be persuaded. This wouldn’t have been so bad if it had happened in rows one to five, but row six is just a bit close for comfort ref. avoiding eye contact with Tiago. So that’s exactly what comes next. I will so much for it not to happen, that my eyes look straight into his, fluttering their lashes with an agenda of their own. Yes, actually fluttering!
Not only has the smirking Tiago noticed, but Radhika is nodding too, chewing her grin and doing that eye narrowing thing again. She’s onto me. I’ve got to turn this around at lightning speed once I get back to my seat.
“Who were you having eye sex with, just then?”
“Radhika!” Kelly implores. “There’s a young child in the row opposite us. Keep a lid on it.”
“Surfer dude at the back of the plane,” I fire back.
“With your eyes directed at approximately the location of your headrest?” Radhika snickers.
“For the love of God, find something else to do besides attempting to pair up every singleton in your radius, Radhika. You’ve got too much time on your hands.” As have I. I check my mobile phone, which is on flight mode, and see we still have another hour to go before landing.
