Page 36 of Autumn at the Oak Leaf Café
‘They don’t understand,’ he said. ‘What my firm does is a good thing. We create more spaces. We regulate the car park so you don’t have people leaving their car in the corner somewhere, walking up to the station, and going on holiday for two weeks. We prevent the abuse of a public service, and we feed money back into the community.’
‘In what way?’
He paused a moment. ‘Inmanyways.’
‘For example?’
Rory’s eyes narrowed. ‘Last Christmas, we paid for the lights and the tree outside Brentwell Station. Did you see them?’
‘I was in Australia.’
Rory shrugged. ‘They were the best lights in the area.’
‘That’s … great.’
‘You see? People want to demonise us, but we’re doing good for the community.’
His chest was heaving for a fight. Madeline forced herself to smile. ‘I’m sure it’ll work out.’
‘Yes,’ Rory said. ‘It will.’
They fell into an awkward period of small talk. Rory was tense, like a rooster whose feathers had been ruffled, his pride hurt. Eventually, the talk came around to the café again, and this time, as Rory asked her about the number of seats they had, and what was popular on the menu, he pulled out a small notepad embossed with Snide and Company’s logo, and began to make notes.
‘Are you thinking about having a party here?’ Madeline asked.
‘Something like that. You would be prepared to stay open late, wouldn’t you?’
‘Within reason. I think the trading license is until nine o’clock.’
‘That would work.’
‘Do you have any specific date in mind?’
‘November eleventh. It’s a Saturday.’
‘And how many people?’
Rory shrugged. ‘Roughly fifty. I don’t have specific numbers yet, but I’ll let you know closer to the time.’
‘Would you like to make a booking, then?’
He finished his coffee and stood up. ‘Provisionally,’ he said. ‘I’ll confirm at a later date.’ Then, finally, he smiled. ‘Thanks, Madeline. I knew I could count on you. So maybe people like to judge me these days, but you’re the same old Madeline. I appreciate that.’
He slipped on his jacket and picked up his briefcase. As he headed for the door, he poked a finger towards Hazel who hissed again, then he was gone, walking off into the dark.
This time he didn’t look back.
Madeline stood by the door for a long time. Hazel climbed down from the cat tower and rubbed her leg, offering moral support. So much to digest, so much to unpack.The same old Madeline.That had cut deep. That he hadn’t mentioned her hair, that had hurt too. That he had looked on the verge of a familiar tantrum before getting hold of himself, another black mark.
Perhaps he wasn’t the Rory she remembered, after all. Perhaps this version was even worse.
She closed the door and went back inside, flipping over the CLOSED sign. The wind had got up, rattling against the windows. Hazel jumped up into her arms, purring loudly, a little vibrating machine.
‘You didn’t like him, did you?’ Madeline said to the little cat as she stroked Hazel’s head. ‘I’m starting to think that I don’t like him either.’
19
Pet Tales
