the shop fittings (that counter!) and buying stock and the everyday running costs that just add up and eat whatever sales we make. Beauty and Cynthia worked shifts as shop assistants, but we knew that if we wanted Coffee & Cream to be a success, either I or Di, an owner, needed to be right there talking to the customers at all times. That’s when the second-biggest nightmare started. We both wanted to be free at the same times for our families and there was no down time or holidays since the mall is open seven days a week, nine to seven and nine to six on weekends. Four months in and our lives outside the shop had shut down.
Something needed to change.
Until then, I was like every other bored shop assistant everywhere. I spent a lot of time standing in the doorway or sitting behind the counter, staring at my phone, watching for messages, talking to Beauty. Waiting for the time to pass. This afternoon, Theresa sent me photos of Harley and Stacey having a picnic in the garden, with voice notes from Harley lisping for me to come home, ‘Please, Mommy.’ Cutie. I put some Lindt balls in my bag for him – he’d love that; chocolate is his favourite thing. I’d have to get something for Stacey or she’d flip; maybe I’d make a five-minute dash for a picture book from Exclusives next door. Jerry sent me a photo of our empty fridge. Looney, why doesn’t he go to the shops if it bothers him that much.
Then came Wayde. Smiling at me in his profile pic, topless on the beach.
Him: Hey schweet Shelley. The wind is going to be up tomorrow afternoon, won’t be that much fun for the kids. Howzit for Saturday morning?
Me: Okay, that’s cool.
Theresa is off, but it’s Di’s turn at the shop on Saturday morning, so I could take the kids to the beach. Jerry played golf on Saturday mornings at the Atlantic Beach Estate down the road in Melkbos. Theresa would be there in the afternoon to help when I was at the shop.
Him: Awesome! How’s your day? Busy?
Me: Sucks. I can’t work the coffee machine so have to turn people away.
Him: I can work a coffee machine? I can help for a bit, I’m in any case on my way to hang out with James.
I looked around. The shop was empty. Beauty was standing near the door trying not to sleep with her eyes open. Maybe the smell of fresh coffee would lure some customers, wake both of us up.
Me: Serious? Yeah, that would be great. Smiley face.
Him: Be there in fifteen. Coffee-cup emoji.
Forty-five minutes later he strolled into the shop.
‘Sorry, took me longer to get here than I thought,’ said Wayde, lazy smile on his face as he walked in. It was worth the wait, I thought, looking at him. Same hair, different board shorts and a clean T-shirt; he not only smelled but also looked like a breath of holiday. Coffee & Cream suddenly felt too polished, too formal, too stuck up with him in it. I saw a woman browsing at the entrance shelves do a little glance up at him as he walked in; then she did another glance, a longer one, as he came behind the counter and caught me in the fastest of hugs. The hug nearly gave me a heart attack, my face full on into the hard chest of Pina Colada Coconut Vanilla, only a thin T-shirt between us. I don’t get this hugging thing that all young people seem to do every time they see each other, but hell, I got a kick seeing that woman’s face turn from interest to undisguised surprise. Almost like when a woman flicks a look at your new Louis Vuitton – you know she’s pretending not to see it. But she wants it.
‘No worries,’ I said, regaining my balance, copying what seemed to be his favourite WhatsApp reply to anything I said. I moved closer to the coffee machine, secretly watching the woman move slowly to the next gift display stand, the one nearest the counter. I’m sure she’d looked through that display before. ‘How come you know how to work a beast like this?’ I asked, standing in front of the chrome expanse of the Astoria. ‘I’ve never been able to make anything other than weak brown water and under-frothed milk come out of it.’
‘Told you I was in hotel school at Granger Bay last year? I wanted to make some money while I was studying, so I did a quick professional barista and bar-tending training at Shakers. Did better at that than I did at hotel school,’ he said as he switched on the machine. ‘I worked at some places in town for a bit. Didn’t waste my mother’s money completely.’
‘Ah, okay,’ I said, watching as he made water gush out the little steel spouts that the coffee usually comes out of. You’d think I’d have learned all the right words from having Di try a million times to teach me.
‘You gotta get the tamping part into the portafilter perfect. The grounds can’t be too loose or too tightly packed,’ he said over the noise of the coffee grinder as it filled the round silver coffee thing that he’d untwisted from the Astoria. He leaned over, pressing the coffee into the silver round with what looked like a metal stamp. His right arm muscles, the side I was on, flexed under the short exertion, making his tattoo flowers ripple. As he went about clicking the silver thing back into the machine, making coffee come out of the spouts, filling the air with the smell of arabica beans, I noticed the browser woman on the other side of the counter.
‘Hi!’ I said, my best big hope-you-spend-a-lot smile on my face. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’ I’d seen her shake her head when Beauty offered her help earlier.
‘Yes.’ She smiled, red lipstick seeping into the fine cracks above her top lip where she had coloured over the line. ‘When it’s ready, could I have that coffee please?’ Her blue eye-shadowed gaze was on Wayde, as if he were the one offering to help her.
Wayde smiled at her.
‘This is just the first sample cup that Wayde’s tried,’ I said. ‘If it’s good, you can definitely have the next one – order it exactly as you like.’
‘I’m sure whatever Wayde makes will be absolutely perfect for me.’ She almost licked her lips. Gawd. I cringed. Women of a certain age – my age – we can embarrass ourselves. I hoped I hadn’t behaved like that in the surf shop.
‘If the young lady wants my first cup,’ Wayde first looked at me, then smiled at her again with the tiniest little wink of his right eye, ‘she can have my first cup.’
The woman laughed as if he had made the funniest joke. I laughed inside, recognising myself at his age, remembering how many times I’d flirted with a customer. We watched Wayde stick the steam wand into the steel jug, froth the milk up, then stamp the base of the jug lightly onto the counter. He poured the milk over the espresso so that a loose heart formed in the foam. Small fine milk bubbles. I knew at least that meant he had done a good job with the milk.
After some one-finger poking of her phone, two more ladies with Poetry shopping bags arrived to join browser woman. They stayed for another two lattes and a piece of chocolate cake each. And like coffee shops everywhere, there is nothing that draws people in like seeing other people inside. Coffee & Cream was busy for the first time since the January sales.
Wayde, the genius, made the coffee and chatted to them all, Beauty and me hopping to answer the questions about the gifts they pointed to on the shelves. One woman asked me for a tip jar. They all bought rose-gold soy candles. But even with the candles sold out, my Coffee & Cream cage was getting lit. It had needed a Wayde to do it.
6
Friday, 16 February
Time to tell Di what I had done.
‘I
