When I walk in, I try to look smiley and positive – the sort of person someone would want to hire – but a weariness has set in after my fruitless morning. I’m already anticipating the usual negative reply as I approach one of the waitresses, a dark-haired girl wearing a badge that says ‘Josie’. But her cheerful smile and swinging ponytail give me hope.
She goes off to speak to the manager, and while she’s gone, I glance around at the scattering of customers in the cafe, catching the eye of a woman sitting at a table nearby, nursing a coffee. She looks in her forties and is probably a business person, judging from her dark suit, neatly styled short black hair and perfectly applied but rather heavy make-up. She gives me a sympathetic smile. I guess she must have heard my conversation with the waitress, who’s now returning, shaking her head.
‘Have you tried the cafes down by the harbour?’ she asks, as my heart sinks into my trainers.
I attempt a smile; she’s being so kind. ‘Nothing going, I’m afraid.’ I shrug as if to say it doesn’t really matter.
I’m about to leave when the scent of coffee stops me.
One latte isn’t going to dent my cash too much.
I’ll be able to sit down at that table in the window and watch the world go by for a while. And think about what on earth I’m going to do.
I savour my drink when it arrives, enjoying every swallow of the comforting hot coffee. At last, when I can spin it out no longer, I get up to pay at the counter. The waitress called Josie is now at the till.
‘You could try at the big supermarket out of town. It’s about a mile that way,’ she says, pointing along the high street.
I smile gratefully. ‘Thank you. I’ll do that.’
‘Have you just moved here?’
‘Yes. Last night, actually.’
‘Oh. Where are you staying?’
‘Well, actually, I slept in my camper van, so I’ll need to find a camp site for tonight.’ Or more likely park in the street again to save my cash.
‘Oh, lucky you. I love camper vans!’
I smile, aware that the woman in the suit has come to the counter and is standing beside me, waiting to pay. ‘Effie is pink and painted with flowers.’
‘Ooh, she sounds gorgeous. Do you have friends in Pengully Sands?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m from London. I don’t know anyone here. The truth is I decided I wanted a brand new start somewhere, and since I’ve been on some lovely holidays here…’ I shrug. ‘I decided this was the place!’
‘Wow, that’s brave. Well, good luck with your job search and welcome to Pengully Sands.’
‘Thank you. It’s such a pretty little town.’
She nods. ‘Have you been up to The Rocks yet, at the far end of the beach? It’s a steep climb but you get a brilliant view of the whole bay up there.’
‘Sounds good. I’ll check it out.’ I smile and turn away from the counter. The interaction with kind-hearted Josie has given me a little lift.
‘Excuse me.’
I feel a tap on my shoulder and when I turn, it’s the woman in the suit. ‘I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to listen in. But did I hear you say you were looking for work?’
‘Erm…yes. Yes, I am.’
She scans my face briefly. Her eyes are small and blue, her lashes caked with thick mascara. She gives me a radiant smile. ‘You know, I might have just the thing for you. Of course, it might not be up your street at all, but I might as well mention it. Just in case.’
‘Oh. I’d be interested in any job, really.’ That sounded way too desperate!
‘Well.’ She folds her hands neatly in front of her. ‘I run a quality cleaning company, based here in the town, and I’m always on the look out for cheerful, hard-working people to join my merry little band.’
‘Gosh. Right.’ I catch a glimpse of Josie behind the counter giving me an encouraging thumbs up, so I add swiftly, ‘That sounds really interesting.’
‘Miriam West.’ She holds out her hand and we shake. ‘And you are?’
‘Lucy. Lucy Honey.’
Mrs West’s eyebrows rise. ‘What a lovely name. So, Lucy Honey, do you think being a cleaning operative is something you might like to do?’
‘Er, yes. Yes, it is.’
‘And I imagine you’d be able to start straight away?’
We start walking away, towards the door, to make way for other customers, and I give Josie a little wave.
‘I could start right now if you like.’ I blurt out the words, then I immediately start back-tracking, not wanting to put her off with my eagerness. ‘I mean, obviously that’s not what you meant. There would be an interview first, of course.’
Mrs West’s mouth curves up slightly at the corners. ‘Consider this your interview,’ she says, and I notice a smudge of her thick red lipstick has transferred to her teeth. She holds open the door and after a moment’s hesitation, I walk out ahead of her. ‘We do domestic house-cleaning and occasional bigger jobs, like hotels and factories. Do you have any experience of this sort of work, Lucy?’
I briefly think about telling her I used to clean in the café where I worked when I first left school. But something tells me Miriam West’s sharp blue eyes would see right through my fabrications. So instead, I admit the truth. ‘Erm, not really. But I’m not afraid of hard work. I’d tackle anything you gave me quickly but thoroughly.’
She looks at me for a moment, her face curiously expressionless. Then she nods. ‘Enthusiasm and a positive attitude is just as important as previous experience, I always think. How about a week’s trial, Lucy? We can see how we like each other and then go from there?’
I swallow hard, feeling quite overwhelmed. ‘Great! Thank you so much, Mrs West.’
She hands me a business card. ‘Phone me in the morning and we’ll talk some more. Welcome aboard, Lucy.’
‘Thank you.’
I watch her walking away, a small, neat figure in what looks like a navy, vintage Channel suit, her low heels clipping along the pavement. I have an urge to laugh out loud at this amazing and unexpected lucky break, but I manage to hold it in.
I have a job!
CHAPTER SEVEN
I spend my second night in the camper van, this time in a lay-by on the road out of town.
My little van is sandwiched between two giant articulated lorries, which makes me feel a bit vulnerable. I alternate between telling myself it’s fine, and thinking of scenes from slasher horror movies, where an unwitting motorist ends up befriending a psycho with a penchant for setting fire to people.
At least I’ve managed to stock up on a few essentials: bottled water, tins of baked beans and tuna. On a camp site, I could get out the little portable stove, but I can’t really do that in a lay-by, so it’s a bit tricky. And wet wipes are useless as a way of staying clean, so I’m planning a swim at the local leisure centre so that I can take a hot shower afterwards.
I’m meeting Mrs West at ten in the café.
I had to drive five miles along the coast to find a pay phone telephone box yesterday, so that I could call her as I’d promised, because I’d forgotten I’d left my mobile back home. And after that ten-mile round trip, my petrol gauge is now almost at zero. Although now that the battery is charged, I will at least be able to make tea and coffee in the van with the mini kettle.