Page 13 of Autumn at the Oak Leaf Café
‘But otherwise it was a good first day?’
Madeline shrugged. ‘Not quite what I was expecting.’
‘It’s a challenge, that’s all. You’ll do fine.’
‘I hope so, but I’m not so sure.’
‘My little girl can do anything.’
Madeline smiled. ‘Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the support. I’m just not so sure, though.’
The next day it was pouring with rain, putting a literal dampener on things. She saw neither Pete nor Dan, nor had a single customer during the morning. On the plus side, it gave her a chance to clean up from yesterday as well as bake a couple of new pies. With the radio playing a little rainy day jazz, she slowly began to cheer up. She just hoped that today would be a little more normal.
She hadn’t heard anything about the man who had fallen off his bike, but she hoped he was all right. She had given her details to the police, but she wondered if she should send him a card or maybe even visit him if he was still in hospital, perhaps to apologise. It still smarted that he had called her a stupid hippy, but it had been her fault really for not looking where she was going.
In the little kitchen behind the counter, Angela had a tall mirror hanging behind the door. Madeline stood in front of it, regarding herself. Her perma-plaits hung nearly to her waist, her hair parted in the middle. The round glasses she often forgot about made her eyes look bigger. Over a pair of dark blue jeans she had chosen a loose, floral apron with acorn and maple leaf designs, which probably looked a little cheesy. Still, it wouldn’t be long before she was in sweaters all the time.s
Was she a hippy, though? She shrugged at herself in the mirror. Overseas, she often got called “unique”, whatever that meant. It definitely felt that she was judged more harshly back home in England, although one of the old dears yesterday had patted her arm and said, ‘I wish I was young enough to pull off jeans that tight,” with a tone of obvious envy.
The bell above the door tinkled. Madeline gave her shirt a tug, then headed back into the café.
A tall, elegant woman in a business suit stood by the counter. She was so made up that Madeline probably wouldn’t have recognised her dressed down, her eyes and lips drawn in stern lines, her hair ruler straight, held to the sides by perfectly horizontal clips just above her ears.
‘I’ll take a honey-cashew nut latte,’ the woman said.
‘Honey, cashew nut, honey, cashew nut,’ Madeline muttered to herself, wondering a) whether she had any of either, and b) if she did, where Angela kept it. To the woman, she gave a warm smile and said, ‘Certainly. Why don’t you take a seat?’
But the woman stood at the counter and continued to stare. One eyebrow lifted robotically, then her eyes suddenly widened.
‘Oh, my heavenly wisdom,’ she said. ‘You’re not Madeline Fellow, are you?’
‘Ah, yes?’
‘Wow, how remarkable. Of all the people to bump into. You don’t recognise me, do you?’
As far as Madeline was concerned, she was talking to a complete stranger. She gave a shake of her head. ‘Ah, I’m afraid my eyes aren’t quite what they used to be.’
‘I can see that. Really. Do you want to guess?’
‘Ah, no?’
‘It’sme.’
‘You?’
‘Janine.’
‘Ja—nine? Janine … Woodchuck?’
Janine’s eyes narrowed. ‘So, the taunting still runs deep. It’s Woodfield. It’s always been Woodfield. She gave a wide, sour grin, giving Madeline time to admire two perfect lines of bleached white teeth. ‘I had them fixed,’ Janine said.
‘They look … nice.’
‘No more, “Huh-huh, huh-huhs”, behind my back,’ Janine said, doing a pretty poor impression of a Disney character. ‘No more taunting. No more having boys pretend to like me then run away screaming. No … more.’
‘It sounds like you still have issues.’
Janine’s eyes flared. ‘I have no issues. No … more … Woodchuck.’
