Page 22 of Fake Rocks
While I waited, I scanned the clientele: a collection of yummy mummies in twos and threes with buggies and pushchairs; a group of students; and a couple of people with laptops, who were clearly taking advantage of the free WiFi and pretending to work. Back up north, we didn’t so much do cute cafes, rather traditional greasy spoons.
The sound of the door opening caught my attention. I looked up and who should walk in, but Saff.
She was chatting to someone on her phone but stopped, stock still as she saw me.
I fluttered my fingers in lieu of a spoken greeting, watching as she scanned the cafe looking for an available seat. The only one was with me.
The waitress brought out my drink and placed the mug on the table. “Food won’t be long, love. You look like you need it.” She gave me a broad smile as she returned to the kitchen.
Saff hovered by the table, finishing up her call. When she had, she pointed at the chair opposite me. “Can I join you?”
“Sure. I’m getting some food,” I said, mentally punching myself for stating the absolute obvious.
She tilted her head. “Same. There was nothing in the fridge I wanted. Plus your uncle and Jonas were having an argument about some band when I left. It was beginning to get a bit heated.”
That sounded like Uncle Col. He had strong opinions where music was concerned, having been brought up on rock ‘n’ roll. I could only hope he didn’t piss Jonas off.
“What are you having?” Saff glanced in the direction of the menu board, then picked up the paper version on the table. “I’m hungry.”
“I’m not surprised. What’s your normal hangover cure?”
“Shitloads of carbs.” She shrugged. “Though this doesn’t feel like a normal hangover.”
“Full English?” A different woman held out a plate, her gaze swivelling between the two of us.
“Do you want it?” I offered.
“I can’t do that. It’s yours. I only just got here; I can wait.” The look on Saff’s face told me otherwise.
“Take it.” I extended my hand, to show the waitress where it should go. “And can we get another one please? Plus some black coffee? Thanks.”
The woman put the plate down in front of Saff, who immediately reached for the brown sauce on the table, squeezing a healthy amount next to her bacon.
“I’ll try and get it to you as quickly as possible.”
As she walked away, I watched Saff devour one of the slices of toast in record time. She obviously wasn’t lying about carbs being her go-to hangover food.
“Thanks, Tris, I really needed this.” As she ate, she relaxed, chewing methodically on her food.
I had to stop staring at her.
“What are your plans for today?” I asked, trying to stop us sitting there in total silence.
“I might jam for a while with Darren. He’s come up with a possible new song and wants me to hear it.”
I remembered her voice the previous evening, raw yet polished, able to cover a range I didn’t know she possessed. I already had high hopes for any new material she might come up with.
“Sounds good. Where do you do that? Do you have a studio or something?”
She laughed. “As if. No, I’ll go around to Darren’s place. He said his housemates are out so we can make as much noise as we like without disturbing anyone. What about you?”
I fixed her with a look which said did-you-really-just-ask-me-if-I’m-renovating-your-house, and she smacked her forehead.
“Sorry, that was such a dumb question!”
“A bit, yeah.”
My brunch and Saff’s coffee arrived. We fell silent as we cleared our plates, barely acknowledging each other as we ate. Despite mine turning up after hers, we ended up finishing at the same time.
