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Then again, today was supposed to be their second date. And she had a pile of work to do. In the end, she sent Brad a brief text.
Up to eyes this morning. See you tonight. A x
He responded with an email she picked up at her desk.
See you tonight. Let me know what time. Itinerary attached. B x
She opened the file, read it and smiled. The whole way he’d organised it was so very Brad. A table, with the date in the left-hand column, and suggestions for what they did, split between fine weather and wet weather, and with notes of opening times for the places they’d wanted to visit.
Tonight’s itinerary was a walk on the beach after work—unless it was raining, in which case they’d go to the cinema or ten-pin bowling. He’d even noted which films were showing during the week, so she could choose what she liked.
He’d already crossed out the gory ones—so he obviously remembered that horror films gave her nightmares, even if they were award-winning and brilliantly written. But there was a comedy and a sci-fi film listed that she thought they might both enjoy, so she marked them as possibles.
She texted him.
Thanks for itinerary. See you at seven.
Then, on impulse, she added, Can’t wait.
Can’t wait to see you either, came the reply.
It warmed her all day and, although Abigail had intended to experiment with a new flavour of ice cream that morning, she ended up messing up the recipe twice because she was thinking of Brad and couldn’t concentrate. And she found herself clock-watching when she was doing admin during the first half of the afternoon—until she noticed that it was raining. The kind of deceptively fine rain that would soak you to the skin and make any beach walk completely miserable; and she knew that the café would start to get really busy with holidaymakers who were fed up with the rain and wanted a hot drink to warm them up. Now wasn’t the time to daydream about her beach walk with Brad, which she was pretty sure would have to be postponed. She wasn’t a ditzy teenager any more. She had a business to run and staff to support.
She went into the café and helped out behind the counter until the rush had died down; and, when even the diehard dog-walkers had left and the café was practically empty fifteen minutes before they were due to close, she sent everyone home early.
‘But don’t you want us to clear up before we go?’ Joe asked.
‘It’s fine, sweetie. I’ll sort it out. We’re practically empty now and you were all rushed off your feet earlier.’ She patted his shoulder. ‘Off you go.’
Once the last customers had finished their drinks and left and she’d cleared up, locked the door, and stacked the chairs, she was just about to wipe down the tables and mop the floor when there was a knock on the door.
Frowning, she went over to explain that sorry, the café was closed now until tomorrow—only to see Brad standing there. Much earlier than they’d agreed.
She let him in. ‘Hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you, yet.’
‘I thought maybe you could do with a hand.’
She hadn’t expected that, either. ‘Are you just bored waiting for me?’
He laughed. ‘A tiny bit. But my plan was, if I help you clear up, you’ll be finished more quickly and then you can come and play with me.’
‘Spoken like a true scientist. Do you want to do the floor or the tables?’
‘Whichever you don’t want to do.’
She handed him the mop and bucket.
‘So do you clear up on your own every night?’ he asked.
‘No, but after the rain caught out some customers, it drove the rest away so I sent everyone home early.’
He looked at her. ‘Now I get why your staff are so protective of you. You’re good with them.’
‘They stay late without being asked if we’ve got a rush on,’ she said, ‘so it’s only fair to let them go earlier if we’re not busy.’
‘And the fact that you’re prepared to do every single job in the café, including mopping floors and cleaning toilets.’
‘Are you telling me you don’t help your team scrub the glassware if you’ve been really busy in the lab?’ she asked.
‘Of course I do. We’re a team.’
