Date: Mon, 03 Jan 2011 16:20:45 +0000
From: polarlord@hushmail.com
Subject: Freds Cafe Ch01  GM A/Y

Trevor's eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the prices
on the menu. A plain mug of tea was priced at five pounds. All of
the other items were similarly massively overpriced in this bleak
café which hid at the edge of the small town. He looked around the
dingy room. The place was empty apart from a grubby old waiter
leaning disinterestedly against the cash register on the counter.
The room was dimly lit by the grey afternoon light which managed
to seep through the unwashed windows. Surely Roger had got it
wrong, massively wrong about this place. His old friend had been
certain on the phone.
"Trev, you've got to break out from your old life. Go and find
Fred's Café on the edge of Oakston. Ask them about a day job. You
can stay at my old cottage while you have a job in the café. It's
just down the road from the cottage."
"What are you talking about? You know I got a massive pay-off when
the bank made me redundant as a senior manager. I don't need a job
ever again as long as I'm careful with my money. Particularly as a
menial café worker."
"Stop moaning and just give it a try."
"Why should I pay you rent for the cottage, when I own my house
here in town?"
"I won't charge you rent Trev, you should know that. But I just
can't stand seeing you die of boredom in your own home. Just go to
the place, buy a mug of tea and tell them to keep the change from
a fifty pound note."
"Fifty quid?! You've got to be kidding."
"Trust me on this Trev. You'll love it; you of all people can
afford fifty. You know where I hide the spare key to the cottage.
I've got to go now, there's a big meeting about to start. Call me
in a week's time to thank me. Byeee."
He waved to attract the attention of the waiter feeling slightly
annoyed that the scruffy old man had ignored the only customer in
the café. He received a vague nod in response to his signal. The
waiter flicked a stained tea towel over his shoulder and picked up
an order pad from the counter before he shuffled over. He stood
next to Trevor.
"You want something mister? The cottage pie is off today."
Trevor threw an irritated glare at the sullen assistant. Poor
service in restaurants was about the only thing which caused
Trevor to show anger in public. Today it was a waste of emotion.
The man was completely indifferent to his customer's anger. He
stood slightly slouched with a short blunt pencil poised over the
order pad.
"Well sir, have you chosen? I'm rushed off my feet today. I can't
hang around all day."
Trevor bit back his anger at the insolence of the man. He almost
decided to walk out at that point, but decided he might as well
make the long trip worthwhile. Roger must have sent him to the
wrong place.
"I'll have a mug of tea. White and no sugar. Freshly made. You
think you can do that?"
The waiter rolled his eyes.
"Is that all Sir?"
"Yes."
"The last of the big spenders! That will be five pounds sir."
The grubby man held out his palm in the universal sign of
demanding money. It took a great deal of will power on Trevor's
part to hand over a fifty pound note to the incompetent server.
"Fifty! Don't you have anything smaller?"
He spat out a barbed response. "No, keep the change in return for
your superb service."
"Ok mate. I'll go tell the chef. It might be a while. There's a
newspaper shop next door if you get bored."
"By the way I'd like to see the manager."
"He doesn't often talk to strangers. I'll ask him but you might be
disappointed. What's it about?"
"None of your business. Maybe I want tell him about the wonderful
staff in this place."
The waiter turned away and shuffled in the direction of the
kitchen leaving Trevor to simmer in annoyance at his reception.
Ten minutes passed before a large mug of strong brown tea was
carelessly delivered to the table. The waiter left without comment
or any sign of encouragement. Another twenty minutes passed before
the doors of the kitchen swung open and a wiry man in a chef's
uniform poked his head through the door way. He looked quizzically
in the direction of the waiter who jerked his thumb in the
direction of their sole customer. The chef wandered over to
Trevor's table and sat uninvited opposite his customer.
"What can I do for you mister?"
"Who said I wanted anything? I might have come here just to enjoy
the tea."
"You gave the signal. Are you here for a job?"
"I might be. It certainly looks like you need some good table
waiting staff. That guy is rubbish. It's no wonder I'm the only
customer to come here in the past hour."
The chef gave a wry smile. "Ah, you've experienced John's friendly
customer service. Don't worry about him; he's just got a hangover.
Anyway we try not to encourage unwanted customers."
"Well it looks like he's very successful at that job. How can you
stay in business without customers?"
The chef looked at his watch. "Oh we'll be pretty busy in about
twenty minutes. Do you have any restaurant experience like table
waiting?"
"No, I can't say that I have, I've only been a customer in
restaurants. I just had a friend who suggested I should try for a
job here. It looks really boring, I honestly don't know if I'd be
interested."
"Well we have a vacancy at the moment. It's five pounds an hour
five days a week. We open at eight in the morning, close at six
and we don't work weekends. I'll get John to bring you another mug
of tea, on the house. Stay here for half an hour or so then let me
know if you are interested. I'll be out back."
"I'm not sure if it is my kind of thing to be honest. At your
prices you can't attract much custom."
The chef stared hard at Trevor.
"If a friend recommended you and told you the signal he must know
you quite well; better than you imagine. I'll see you in a couple
of hour's time. I have to get the food ready."
John brought him a fresh mug of tea. This time the waiter's
attitude was less surly as his positioned the mug on the table
top. "They'll start arriving soon. Just watch and learn mate."
True to the café workers' words the place began to fill about mid-
day. In chattering groups of twos and threes, teenage and preteen
boys started to burst through the doors and look for empty tables
and chairs. They all wore the same style of school uniform with
grey trousers, white shirts, black blazers and black shoes. Soon
the room was full to bursting point with boys. John the waiter
scurried from table to table distributing menu cards to the boys
and taking food orders.
"Mister, is that place taken?"
Trevor looked up to see a slim young blonde haired teen boy
standing behind his shoulder and pointing at the empty place
opposite bench seat.
"Knock yourself out kid. I'm alone here today. You can have all
three places."
The boy flashed a smile at the man as he shuffled into the free
space in the corner. "It's only me mister. Thanks." The boy
quickly looked down at the table under Trevor's gaze. He noticed
the boy's blazer breast pocket was slightly torn as though by
rough handling.
"Sorry kid, I didn't mean to stare."
The nascent conversation was broken by the arrival of John at the
table with a menu for the boy. The young man took the menu and
rested it on the table without reading the contents.
"What are you having today Simon?"
"Fish and chips for me please John. Can I pay you tomorrow?"
"Have they been stealing your dinner money again?"
The boy looked down and did not respond.
The waiter noted the order and walked away. Trevor was intrigued
how these schoolchildren could afford to eat in this expensive
cafe.
"Can I borrow that menu please young man?"
The boy gave a brief nod of approval without looking directly at
Trevor. When the man looked at the menu card he was surprised to
see the food was priced at less than one tenth of the prices he'd
read on the original menu he'd received when he'd arrived.
"They have a special junior menu here mister. It's only for the
school kids. The food's real cheap and tastes much better than the
junk at school."
By the time Trevor looked up the boy's eyes were cast downwards
toward the table. He didn't want to have a long conversation with
the stranger. The man looked ok, but his mum had many times warned
him about strange men and he knew the other boys in the cafe would
be watching him. If he chatted with this stranger he might be
called more nasty names in the school corridors.
Trevor nursed the mug of tea through the whole lunchtime, sneaking
glances at the boys around him as they ate while chatting
excitedly and noisily. Any seats that became empty were soon
filled with fresh faces. No boys joined the young man sitting at
the position opposite him.
When the school lunchtime finished the cafe was abruptly emptied
as the boys hurried back to join their afternoon classes. Trevor's
table companion waited until the other boys had gone before he
left the cafe.
John was busy tidying the tables in the café as Trevor found his
way to the chef in the kitchens. The chef smiled as he approached.
"So what do you think? By the way I'm Fred Hounslow. I run this
place for the Foundation."
"Well Fred. I'm Trevor Black. This place might be fun to work. I
think I could do the job and could start next week if you want.
You say it's only five pounds an hour? Isn't that below the
minimum wage?"
"You don't understand Trevor. You have to pay me five pounds an
hour to have a position here. That will be 250 pounds a week in
advance you'll have to pay me. We have to subsidise the boys' food
some way. You need to make your mind up quickly though because
word soon gets around when I have a vacancy. There are plenty of
guys like you who would love to work here, they'd pay more. Just
one thing though you are not allowed to touch the boys in the
cafe. There's also a probation period as well, of four weeks."
Trevor spluttered, "I...I... I'm not one of `those' guys. You've
got the wrong end of the stick."
Fred just smiled. "So you'll start next Monday? At eight am."
"Yes."
"Pay me in cash. Okay?"


... to be continued.

Comments and ideas will be welcome. polarlord@hushmail.com