Page 17 of Eden's Comfort Kitchen
‘I didn’t like to pry,’ Eden said, catching on that Livia was reluctant to say more.
‘You didn’t. I’d be curious too. It’s my fault – I said too much in the beginning, and it’s natural you’d want to know the rest. But it’s not fair to Debs to say – I don’t think she’d appreciate it.’
It had been a long time since Eden had felt nervous at work. In the job she’d left to come here, she’d been confident in her knowledge and skills. She’d been good at it and knew she was. But this was something entirely different. Livia kept reassuring her that it was all perfectly straightforward and that anyone could do it, and how she’d have picked it up by the end of the night, but Eden was still unfamiliarly apprehensive as Livia let her loose on her first patron. She’d pulled a pint that seemed more head than beer, apologising so profusely that whatever complaint the customer might have wanted to make didn’t come. Perhaps he’d felt sorry for Eden, because he’d only smiled and acknowledged that everyone had to start somewhere and took his drink without making a fuss.
‘There you go,’ Livia said, smiling. ‘You’ve broken your duck. It’ll get easier from here.’
It did get a little easier as the hours ticked by, so long as the customer wanted something straightforward. Whenever she got asked for something a bit odd, or something she hadn’t come across before, her gaze went straight to Livia, who seemed to have a second sense for it and came to her aid as soon as she could. It hadn’t taken long for Eden to start enjoying the work,as Livia had promised she would. The customers were mostly pleasant, and the time flew by so quickly she could scarcely believe it when she looked at the clock to see her shift already halfway through.
‘You’re doing really well,’ Livia said during a rare breather. She poured herself some lemonade and looked up at Eden. ‘Want one?’
‘Is it OK?’
‘Oh yes, Ralph doesn’t mind us having a drink. I don’t take the booze unless a customer tells me to get one for myself – don’t want to take the Michael. But it’s all right to have a soft drink whenever you like.’
‘I’m sweating – I’d love one.’
Livia gave Eden the glass she’d just poured and then got herself another. As she looked up from the tap, she smiled at someone coming into the pub.
‘Hey, Liam. Come to get your mum’s parcel?’
The young man nodded as he made his way to the bar. He didn’t look very old – perhaps eighteen or nineteen at most, skinny and full of nervous energy.
‘Ralph will be in the kitchens,’ Livia continued. ‘Just go on in and give him a shout.’
Just as Debs had done earlier, Eden watched him go through the doors to the kitchens beyond. She sipped thoughtfully at her lemonade, hoping not to get a customer until he came out again. She couldn’t deny her curiosity had been piqued. What was going on here?
A few minutes later, he came out with a carrier bag – not down at his side as it might be with shopping, but wrapped around something and cradled in his arms. He nodded at Livia and then left the pub. Eden looked to her new friend, wondering if she might offer more of an explanation this time, but she didn’t seem to have noticed. Instead, she popped her emptyglass into a tray ready to be washed with the next load and went to top up the bar snacks.
An hour later, an older woman – perhaps in her sixties – came to speak to Eden at the bar. Livia was serving a customer with a large order and didn’t notice.
‘Sorry…’ the woman began. ‘But…well, someone told me you were giving out…you know…parcels to people. Of stuff you don’t want. I just wondered if there were any left.’
‘Parcels of what?’ Eden asked, immediately realising that her question had been far too blunt for the situation. The lady was clearly embarrassed that she was here at all, and Eden probably hadn’t helped her feel any better.
‘Um… food…’
Eden frowned. ‘You want to order…?’ she began, but then the pieces of the puzzle slotted together. The parcels she’d seen people leaving the kitchens with that night – they must be what this lady meant. So that was it? Food? Were they paying for this? Was it a takeaway service? If so, why all the secrecy? Eden quickly decided the takeaway theory made no sense.
‘Hang on a minute for me,’ she said, sidling over to Livia and speaking quietly.
‘Food parcels…I send her to the kitchen, right?’
‘Huh?’ Livia looked up from measuring a brandy.
‘The food…is that what everyone’s been coming in for? I mean, the people you sent to the kitchens?’
Livia looked at the woman standing awkwardly at the counter and then back at Eden.
‘Yes,’ she said finally, perhaps realising there was no point in keeping it a secret. ‘Could you take her to the kitchen to see if there’s anything left?’
‘Where do I find…I don’t know where I’m supposed to look.’
‘Ask one of the staff – they’ll show you where we keep the tubs.’
Understanding the need for discretion, Eden went to the front of the bar and gestured for the woman to follow her.
‘I’m sorry, this is my first night working here,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’m not sure what’s what yet, but hopefully someone on the kitchen staff can help us.’
