Page 10 of Cream & Sugar
“No, it’s just normally people ask if there are any opportunities for progression or if there are any team socials or something like that.”
“Oh,” says Freddie. “Are there?”
I swallow. “Not at present.”
He gives a single short laugh.
“Right. Seriously though, what made you want to open this place? As a prospective employee, I should probably check if the boss is passionate about his business, you know?”
My jaw drops. The absolute cheek of this boy! I can’t help but laugh, but Freddie just smiles, waiting for me to answer.
“Umm,” I stare at the ceiling as I cobble together a response. Why did I open a café? So many reasons. Coffee is, and has always been, my special interest. I realised that when I got my autism diagnosis and the assessor told me I talked non-stop about coffee for fifteen minutes in response to the question: can you tell me about something you like? That should have been my first clue my brain was a bit squiffy. No need to bring that up now, though. I’ve learned my lesson about being forthcoming with that particular information. Echoes from when Lara and I broke up still keep me up at night.
“I guess…” I stall for a few more seconds, editing down my answer in my head. “When I was a student, cafés were always where I’d go to relax; to sip a coffee with a good book or just watch the world go by. I lived in cities my whole adult life, but I was born here, and I always wanted my hometown to have a place where people could do just that. Somewhere thatisn’ta big evil chain selling crap coffee. Somewhere nice. That’s what cafés are, aren’t they? They’re just nice.”
I’m surprised at myself. That’s exactly the kind of answer a younger, more optimistic, noticeably slimmer Shaun would have given when he was applying for a business loan a year or so back. If only someone had told him back then that running one isn’t so much “nice” as it is a complete and utter nightmare, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
Freddie’s smile softens as he looks around the place. “Thisone definitely is. I love all the wood and the lightbulbs.”
“Thank you,” I say, my chest swelling with pride. “The design took a lot of planning. To be honest, there was going to be a lot more to it. I planned to have this wall of plants, like anentirewallcompletely covered in real moss and stuff, but it turns out they’re really expensive and it was either that or the coffee machine so…”
“Gutted,” says Freddie. “Maybe start with a succulent?”
I suck my teeth. “Nah. I really feel like it’s either a wall of plants or no plants, you know?” We share a chuckle which makes me happy. Most people don’t get my humour, but Freddie clearly has good taste. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”
“Uh,” Freddie scratches his head and reddens slightly. “Bit random, but could I maybe buy a hot chocolate to go? The snow.”
I look out the window to see the flurries obscuring the esplanade. The weather’s been nuts for this time of year. It’s too damp to settle, but the snow is coming down thick and fast.
“Of course!” I grab my notebook and get to my feet. “Come on, I’ll make you one now before there’s a queue.”
“I don’t have much cash on me,” Freddie grimaces, apologetically. “If you could give me a small one?”
I feel a rush of sympathy. I remember what it’s like to be in my twenties and skint.
“No problem. Give me a minute.”
I dip behind the counter and pull a jar of dark chocolate chips from the cupboard. Grabbing a carton of milk, I pour some into a clean jug and steam it until it’s hot and silky. Then I scoop in a generous heap of chocolate chips, a half-pump of vanilla syrup and stir. Soon, the milk turns the colour of a Galaxy bar. I grab a large takeaway cup and fill it to the three-quarter mark. Finally, I top it with a generous heap of whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder.
“Voila!” I say, setting the drink down in front of Freddie.
“Holy shitballs, that’s huge!” I raise an eyebrow and he backpedals. “Ahem. I meanwow, that looks amazing. Let’s see…”
Freddie starts counting coins from his pocket but Ishake my head.
“It’s on me. For springing that interview on you. Plus, if you freeze to death out there, I’ll feel guilty.”
“Well then,” Freddie picks up the hot chocolate and puts a lid on it, “how can I refuse? Thanks, Shaun.”
“Thank you for coming in. I’ll let you know soon. Do you prefer a call or text?”
“Either’s fine.”
Text then. As an anxious millennial, I’d rather pull out all my wisdom teeth with a pair of pliers than make a single telephone call.
“Great,” I shake his hand one more time. “Nice to meet you, Freddie.”
“Pleasure was all mine.”
