“It’s yours,” said Annie. “Now clear down table four, and I’ll have the next order ready for you to take.”

Billy jumped to attention and set off for table four with a spring in his step and an unquenchable grin.

—

Ely came into the café, under the guise of delivering a bag of oddly shaped fresh fillets for which he wouldn’t take any money. He nodded at Billy as he passed him; Billy looked up mid-antibacterial-spraying a table and grinned at him.

“How’s he doing?” Ely asked under his breath.

“He’s doing great,” Annie assured him.

“I promised his grandad I’d look out for him.”

“Then you’ll find your job much easier with him being here Saturdays and holidays.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing for him.”

“Not at all.” Annie dismissed his thanks. “I needed an extra pair of hands, and Billy came along at the right time.”

They both peered surreptitiously at Billy, who had just filled an old margarine tub with water and set it down under the table for a customer’s cocker spaniel. The customer thanked him and gave a nod of satisfaction to his retreating back.

“Well, he’s tamed our most discerning customer,” said Annie wryly. “So, the rest ought to be plain sailing. It’ll take him a few weeks to get the hang of it, but I think he’s made of the right stuff.”

Ely nodded and gave an appreciative grunt before heading back to his boat with a large gingerbread latte.

—

At midday, Alfred poked his head in at the kiosk window; he rarely ventured into the café during opening hours—too many people, he complained.

“I’m going to fix that fence,” he said. “Weather’s turned, winter’s here.”

“Oh, brilliant, thank you, Alfred! Have you got everything you need?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Coffee to help you work?”

“Please.”

“I’ll bring it round to you in just about ten minutes.”

Alfred nodded and shuffled off out of sight. A woman—an out-of-towner, Annie caught herself thinking—watched Alfred leave with something amounting to distaste and took his place at the window; her face was pinched into repulsion as she looked around, as though Alfred’s presence had somehow dirtied the immediate vicinity.

“Begging, was he?” she asked.

Annie was instantly indignant. “He happens to be a friend of mine and a very fine handyman,” she said.

The woman sniffed. “He dresses like a tramp.”

“I try not to judge people on their appearance, it’s such an unappealing personality trait. What can I get you?”

The woman, trying to decide if she had just been insulted, gave her order, and Annie moved to make it as quickly as she could; she didn’t want that kind of customer hanging around. The woman took the proffered coffee with a huff and left.

John took her place, stooping to look in through the window.

“Hello,” he said.