Page 47 of The Rebound
“To enter? Are you serious?”
“It helps us maintain a high standard of prizes,” he says, gesturing grandly to the list of things to be won.
To my surprise, it’s not just misshapen pottery and match tickets for the local team up for grabs, but cash prizes now too: 250, 500...
“One thousand euros?”
“We were gifted it in a will a few years ago,” Andrew says, only a little smug.
“Who leaves something for the Easter Fun Day in their will?”
“Someone who got a lot of enjoyment out of family activities,” he says sharply. “It’s the grand prize. Shall I put your name down?”
I have vague memories of scrambling around a muddy forest with a hundred other children looking for the same supermarket chocolate Mam had at home.
“I think I’ll pass,” I say, buying an extra ticket for a titanium flatiron.
“Then kindly stop taking up space.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands and I obey, dropping some leaflets on the desk when he’s not looking.
With nothing else to do, I start to loop back to Louise when I spot Beth jumping up and down at a small, cheerfully decorated stall, trying to keep warm.
“Abby!” Her voice is so loud several heads turn her way.
“Hi.” I smile as I head toward her. “I didn’t know you were—”
“Thank God, you’re here,” she interrupts. “Could you hold the fort for me? I really have to pee.”
“Oh.” I hesitate, glancing at the miniature coffee shop she’s set up behind her. “By myself?”
“Two minutes tops. You just need to keep any customers here until I come back. Or try to sell them some pastries.”
I’m already shaking my head. “Beth—”
“Thank you thank you thank you.” She whips off her Coffee-branded apron and throws it at me.
“But—”
“Two minutes!” she calls, ducking under the flap.
“Beth!”
She’s gone. And not only has she gone but her sudden fleeing has drawn attention. I smile at the curious looks as I fumble with the straps of the apron, squeezing behind the makeshift counter.
Okay. This isn’t a problem. How many times have I watched someone make me coffee? How many times have I—
“Can I get a cappuccino?”
The man in front of me is already opening his wallet. “I… no.”
“What do you mean no?”
“We don’t have any.”
He looks confused. “Can you not make one?”
“I don’t know how to make coffee.”
“But you’re working at a coffee stall.”
