I stepped back as Kate crossed the black and white check tiled floor. Due to the speed of her roller skates, her red dotted skirt swished from side to side.
‘Careful how you go,’ I said and smiled. New staff always took a while to get used to wheels instead of feet. ‘Big thumbs up for getting through the lunchtime rush. Any problems?’
‘No. That woman in the purple top was really impressed with the gluten-free burger and fries – said she’d definitely come back next week.’
Kate jerked her head towards a man in the corner. My stomach twisted. The ruffled brown hair. Slumped demeanour. That casual coat I was always telling him to bin and replace with an Italian cut jacket.
‘He’s sat with his head in his hands for over fifteen minutes, Mikey,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘I don’t like to disturb him.’
I cleared my throat. ‘Leave him to me. It’s Dave – my flatmate’s friend.’
‘Nice…’ Her twinkling eye caught mine and she blushed.
I threw my hands in the air. ‘What is it with you guys? What’s Chef been saying? Honestly, I’m singularly happy being single and don’t need matching up with any old bod that walks in here, waving the testosterone flag. Plus let me clarify, Dave is actually the partner of my friend.’
I beckoned to the diner’s head cook to come over. ‘John. For the umpteenth time – stop encouraging employees to hook me up. And for your information, Kate, Dave is straight – my flatmate is a fabulous woman called Jasmine.’
‘You? Happy?’ John snorted. ‘Don’t believe a word, Kate. He’s been unattached for almost a year now and it’s made him right cranky – especially since he turned thirty last month. In fact my missus has got a new hairdresser – says he’d be right up your street and–’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘The benefits office will be right up your street, too, if you don’t get back to work.’
Uneasily I shifted and gave Kate a small smile. Her eyes crinkled as she grinned and headed off to clear a table. I had a feeling she and I were going to get on. With John, after all these years, I talked about anything, but at the grand old age of thirty, I was still wary about discussing my private life with anyone who didn’t know me well.
With a sigh, John headed back to the fryers, scooting behind a glass counter. He glanced over and I winked at him. John smiled, winked back and, shaking his head, turned around to clean up before dinnertime customers trickled in. On the other side of the glass cabinet a couple of teenagers sat on chrome stools, guzzling milkshakes, feet tapping to Grease music that blared out from my gorgeous gilt jukebox.
I gazed around the restaurant, taking in the red and silver chairs at each table and the bright walls decorated with fifties American memorabilia. Not many customers realised this was a genuine diner exported from Kansas in the seventies by my entrepreneurial parents. Plus they’d found the perfect location for it, near a town and not far from a petrol station. I couldn’t believe my luck when they signed Polka Dot Diner over to me, last year, before heading off to travel the world as part of their dream retirement.
To the sound of John Travolta lamenting lost summer love, I wiped my hands on my black apron and walked over to Dave’s table, by the window. Hmm. They could do with a polish. I’d get onto that after the evening rush. He looked up as I sat down.
‘Mikey.’
‘Dave.’
‘She told you?’
‘Not really. Didn’t want to talk much last night. Said she was tired. We drank hot chocolate together in silence.’ I sighed. ‘Look, first things first, let’s order pie and coffee.’
Dave shrugged and I called over Kate. Due to his rugby player build, it twisted my stomach even more to see him suddenly look so fragile. The Dave I knew was robust, with shoulders broad enough to carry a responsible job, to manage a local football team for underprivileged kids and look after his mum who’d been ill.
Ten minutes later, caffeinated steam rose between us. There wasn’t a lot in the world a slice of cherry pie with a dollop of ice cream couldn’t put right. However, Dave only took one mouthful before pushing away his plate. What was wrong? He’d never come into the diner before, on his own.
‘I’ve messed up big time,’ he grunted. ‘What an arse. Jasmine must be really upset.’
A rich fruitiness satisfying my taste buds, I wiped my mouth with a napkin. ‘Guess so. She left for work before I got up this morning – Jazz never does that. I heard you’d booked a great restaurant for Valentine’s Day…’ My eyebrows rose. ‘What happened? Couldn’t she find a vegetarian option? Or did you argue over the bill? I know she always insists on paying her half. Wouldn’t she let you treat her for once?’
Dave’s cheeks flushed. ‘Ah. So she really didn’t tell you anything.’ He swigged his coffee. ‘Get this: I proposed.’
Heart thumping, a gasp escaped my lips. My Jazz and him married? Wow. For some reason I hadn’t seen that coming. Dunno why. I knew Jazz wanted to settle down and her face still went all squidgy when she spoke about Dave. But weddings, mortgages… it all seemed so final. A shard of coldness pierced my chest. Soon I really would be on my own. I shook myself. Okay. Enough with the selfish reaction.
‘That’s… great news.’ We both sat in deep thought for a moment. ‘But why the long faces?’ I managed eventually. ‘She was happy, right? I mean, it’s clear to me that, ultimately, Jazz wants the white picket fence and two point four kids.’
Dave leant back in his chair, dark circles under those chestnut eyes, cheeks half-shaven. Mind you, rough and ready Dave never managed to attain a really smooth look, even on those days he tortured the world with his out-of-tune whistling. ‘I’m not so sure, now. She’s always hesitated when we’ve talked about commitment. I know we’ve not been together two years but I just thought that, yesterday, the time was right. It’s… It’s what I’ve wanted from the first time I saw her,’ he added gruffly, and fiddled with his teaspoon.
My chest glowed. Bless. That was the nearest Dave had ever got to expressing his feelings in front of me. He was a strange one. I had several straight male friends who only needed the smallest of shoves to open up a little about their emotions. Whereas Jazz’s boyfriend… privately I called him Dinosaur Dave – except he’d be one of those cute herbivore species that wouldn’t harm anyone intentionally.
I chewed another mouthful of pie and swallowed, enjoying the sensation of vanilla ice cream drizzling across my tongue. ‘Look, angel-face–’
‘Don’t call me that.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Okay. Dave. Do you know how many wedding fairs me and Jazz have visited over the last couple of months?’
His brow furrowed. ‘But that’s only because she’s going to be bridesmaid at her sister’s wedding next year.’
‘Think again. She’s hoarded a whole bundle of bridal catalogues recently. You don’t do that unless you’re fantasizing about your own special day.’
Dave rubbed his chin and said nothing.
‘So didn’t she accept? What’s the ring like? Bet she loved it.’
Well done moi, managing to suppress a doubtful tone. Dave’s presents hadn’t always hit the spot. Take the sexy underwear he bought her for Christmas. Executive human resources manager Jazz is one classy lady. A clichéd black and red lacy set was never going to cut it. Not that she let on. Up until now she’d found Dave’s clumsy attempts at romance endearing. Like the pair of knitted ducks he’d