‘Really Alan, it’s not worth your time,’ I tried again, unable to think of anything else.
‘Did they hurt you?’
‘No.’ Jack still had an eye on me. Was that concern imprinted on his face? ‘One of them hit me across the head but it wasn’t designed to knock me out. Or if it was they need to lift a few more weights. They were just trying to scare me so I’d hand over what I had.’
‘Were they armed?’ Alan glanced over to the kitchen. There was something adorable about the fact he looked down the barrel of a gun without a second thought but was scared of his wife who was a mere two inches taller than my modest five foot three stature.
‘Only with knives.’ I gave him the loosest shrug in my armoury.
‘Well, that’s bad enough. You should still report it.’
‘OK, Alan, I’ll think about it.’ There was no way I was going anywhere near a police station of my own accord but I had to find a way to pacify him.
‘Good.’ He sipped his coffee and, aware that Mona would be walking past any minute, changed the subject of his own free will. ‘How’s it goin’, Walt?’
‘Alright,’ he said, and then pointed his thumb at Jack and Angela who’d resumed kissing. ‘Except this gal over here might need surgery. She’s got some guy stuck to her face.’ Walt looked at me with a sparkle in his eye and erupted into a bout of childish laughter. His hooting was so infectious I wound up joining in, releasing some of the inner-tension Alan’s probing had stirred.
Our outburst scattered the lovebirds.
‘I didn’t know it was even possible you could laugh like that,’ Jack remarked.
‘Well,’ I said, straightening my face after his dig, ‘maybe I don’t find you so funny.’
‘Mona! Esther!’ Bernie shouted from his perch. ‘Would you come over here and stop clowning around? I’ve got matters to discuss.’ Mona, who’d come back over to find out what the commotion was, exchanged a look of tetchiness with me before we sauntered over to where he was sitting. Lucia was due a night off, which meant he’d have to work the late shift in the kitchen, a fact guaranteed to make him even more of a grouch than usual.
‘What’s up, Bernie?’ asked Mona.
‘The week after next, instead of working here I’m taking you to get fitted for the hop. Let’s say the Thursday, that’s the 22nd. It’s usually quiet in the afternoon so we’ll shut up shop for an hour and head up to midtown.’
‘Sorry, what do you mean fitted?’ I asked. I knew about the annual event Bernie hosted at the diner. A night where all the chairs and tables were cleared away to make dance space for a vintage party, during which he piped fifties music over the jukebox until late. Bernie made more in one night than he usually did in two weeks. I’d no idea, however, there were any special requirements of us as waitresses.
‘Every year Bernie buys the waitresses a new dress for the hop. You get to keep it. They’re cut in the fifties style so they’re always glam. It’s sorta like a bonus,’ said Mona.
‘That’s really kind, Bernie.’ I smiled thinking about how long it had been since I’d had anything new that wasn’t a second-hand book.
‘Well, people spend more on the night if there’s a bit of flesh on show,’ Bernie explained.
‘Flesh?’
‘Don’t you worry, honey. He’s talking in comparison to our diner uniforms. Modest amount of cleavage. A flash of leg. Nothing you wouldn’t put on show if you were going to any other party,’ said Mona before looking back at Bernie. ‘You payin’ for our hair and make-up this year? I loved the way they curled my hair last time.’
‘You’ll get the works,’ Bernie replied without a smile. ‘Just make sure those tickets sell out by the end of the week.’
‘Not a problem.’ Mona did a quick calculation in her head. ‘We’ve only got ten left.’
‘When is the hop, Mona?’ asked Jack who, having extracted himself from Angela’s lips, had been listening in.
‘It’s two weeks today, Saturday 25th. Tickets are twenty bucks.’ she replied.
Jack turned to Angela. ‘Do you want to go?’
‘Sure. Fifties music is so cute and retro.’
Jack nodded and pressed his lips together. ‘Can I buy two tickets, Mona?’
‘Sure honey, I’ll add it to your cheque.’
I looked over at Jack and Angela and thought ahead to the night of the hop. They’d come together. I’d have to watch them laughing and dancing, knowing that if things were different I might have taken her place.
It was in this not so very special moment that I hatched a plan to avoid anymore suspicion from Mona over my feelings for Jack. She could see my strong aversion to him was a cover-up for the fact I found him… well, intriguing. The obvious solution was to stop being so sensitive about it. If Jack was in a relationship with someone else, there wasn’t any danger of anything happening between us. And if there was no chance of him making a move then what harm would it do to be pleasant? He had a gorgeous twenty-something at his side and, in his own words, thought I was psycho. He wasn’t interested in me – which made things easier and meant I could get Mona off my back.
I looked over to him once again. Shovelling the last morsels of pancake into his mouth. Nodding at something Angela was explaining. He noticed me, looking. Instinct diverted my eyes down to the counter but, realising I no longer had to worry about the little things, I raised my eyes again to meet his, which were still fixed on me. I smiled the smallest of smiles and he mirrored my expression as he chewed his food with a vague grin on his face.
‘Esther? Hello?’ Bernie’s voice sliced through my thoughts. ‘You gonna clear table six, or what?’
‘Yes. Sorry,’ I said, snapping out of contemplation mode. I’d just started stacking the plates onto a tray and washing down the plastic, gingham table cover when, out of nowhere, I heard the last thing I was ever expecting to hear.
‘Mrs Delaney? Is that you?’ A familiar voice sounded out across the diner. I hadn’t been called by that name in almost two years. Everyone at the counter looked my way. I froze, my eyes widened and I turned.
Stood before me, as though collaged into my New York existence, were Sandra and David Rutherford. I’d taught their daughter about four years ago. Isabella struggled with English throughout her secondary education, meaning we’d all sat through a number of parent/teacher conferences to discuss solutions. Now I thought about it, they were the sort of couple who were always tanned from some expensive, foreign getaway. This year, it seemed, they’d chosen to trip off to Manhattan for a few weeks. There they stood, at the till, ordering takeaway coffees from Bernie.
Sandra hadn’t asked for a restyle at the hairdresser’s in the last five years; she had the same mousey, shoulder-length bob she wore back when I knew her in England. She still favoured loose, baggy tops around three sizes too big and her smile was just as placid. She never could quite bring herself to reveal her teeth. In that respect, David was her opposite. His teeth hung too far over his bottom lip making his face lopsided, goofy.
Hi …’ I managed but that’s all I managed. I stumbled forward. The tray of crockery slid from my hands. I heard the shatter. I saw their mouths drop open but couldn’t react myself.