Page 72 of A Wonderland Wish on Ever After Street
He jumps on it like a hawk that’s been gliding above ground, waiting to grab an innocent vole going about its day. ‘Is there a problem with your own kitchen?’
‘No. Not at all. It’s just… um… I no longer have access to the kitchen I’vebeenusing, and…’
‘We live together.’ Marnie wraps an arm around my shoulders in solidarity. ‘My kitchen is her kitchen.Ourkitchen.’
No one needs to know that she means I live in the caravan. He’d have a field day if he saw the kitchen inthat. And the woodlice would have a field day if they saw him.
His suspicious eyes flick between us. ‘Right, and this really should have been made clear before now. How am I supposed to check on your handling practices and food monitoring equipment? How can I possibly inspect your food preparation area if your food preparation area is nothere?’
‘I didn’t know you didn’t know that.’
‘We’ll now need to make a second appointment for a further inspection ofthosepremises, and I do warn you, Miss Jordan, although I see very few issues with these premises, there is room for improvement in your food safety management practices. There seems to have been no staff training in food hygiene providedwhatsoever?—’
‘There are no staff!’ I interrupt him. ‘It’s just me now. I’m alon—’ I get choked up and can’t finish the sentence.
‘As the manager, you should be carrying out four-weekly reviews and daily checks. I see no evidence of these in your paperwork. Furthermore, I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but it seems like you’re trying to hide something, and I’m afraid I have absolutelynoconfidence in your management skills, and as I can’t complete my inspection today due to your omissions in information, I cannot confidently allow you to continue trading at this time. We shall make a further appointment to inspect your kitchen, and following that, I’ll update my food hygiene score and we’ll go from there.’
This is it – my worst fear. The realisation that I am not good enough to do this. The imposter syndrome that’s finally been proved right. Listening to Marnie and Bram tell me I’m good enough is one thing, but the moment a professional health inspector claps eyes on me, they’ll realise the truth – that I’m fooling everyone, including myself, by thinking I can do this, and probably putting public health at risk too. What did I expect to come from this? Is this why no one has told me to stop this week – because it was blatantly obvious what was going to happen today anyway? This dream was going to die this week one way or another – it may as well be in the most humiliating way possible.
My thoughts are cut off by a hammering on the front door, and I glance through from the back room, but I can’t see who’s there.
I swallow hard. ‘Probably an eager customer wondering why we’re closed. They’ll go away in a minute.’
Marnie meets my eyes when the hammering comes again. ‘You may be surprised to realise how popular this place is. There will probably be loads of people knocking to come in before the morning is out.’
‘I need to type up my report before I leave, Miss Jordan, and Ican’t hear myself think. Please ask them to leave, and make sure to prominently display a “closed until further notice” sign to prevent confusion.’
The hammering is insistent and whoever it is doesn’t seem to be going away. I steel myself for letting a disappointed customer know that we won’t be reopening, unsure of how I’m going to do it without sobbing, and walk across the shop floor on unsteady legs.
‘I’m sorry, we’re closed,’ I shout without opening the door.
Instead of replying, a hand bangs on the glass again, even louder this time. I can see the outlines of two figures outside through the frosted glass.
‘We’re closed,’ I say again, more forcefully this time.
One of them hits the flat of a hand on the door again, even though they can surely see I’m standing here now, and there’s no way they didn’t hear what I said.
I put the chain on for safety and open the door just wide enough to tell them to go away, and then gasp in surprise.
Bram and Mr Hastings are standing outside.
21
‘’ello,’ Bram says with his high-pitched voice and bright Hatter grin.
‘It’s not a good time,’ I hiss, both overjoyed to see him and frustrated at the truly horrible timing.
‘You’ve got seventy-two clocks in there. It’s a good time by one of them.’ He flashes the wide grin my way again, but now I know how much he hides behind that grin, I know the difference between his real smile and the one that’s part of his character.
‘The food safety inspector is here, and it’s not going?—’
‘And that’s exactly whywe’rehere. We’re not going away so you may as well open up.’
I glance between him and Mr Hastings, who would look less unimpressed if he’d recently swallowed a wasp. There’s nothing to do but let them in.
‘Thank you.’ Bram’s wearing jeans and a grey hoodie, there’s no product in his blue hair and it’s curling around his ears, and he tips his baseball cap to me as they come through the door.
My nerves were already shot this morning, but seeing him, having him near enough to touch again, and seeing that familiar ‘I’m up to something’ twinkle in his brown eyes makes my heartthud harder and I can feel my pulse beating in my fingertips where I’m clenching my hands together. ‘What are you doing?’
