Midday, thought Carl, and only three customers so far. He had been up since 5.30am, baking and burning croissants, and in that time had sold only one litre of milk, four tomatoes, and a pack of cigarettes. How was he supposed to cover costs with sales like that? He had not expected the residents of Wood Green to be quite so shy. But perhaps the snow was keeping them inside. Carl knew he certainly would not have got out of bed if it had been possible, but Tim and Maureen had insisted that days when it snowed could be some of their busiest. People running out of food, hiring DVDs, or just looking for a little conversation beyond their immediate family, especially before the pub opened its doors. Carl fed the pot-bellied stove another piece of wood.
Jesus it’s cold, he exclaimed as the bell above the front door sounded.
Paul sent me over to ask if you wanted any lunch, said Matthew.
No thanks. Carl returned to the counter. Tell him I’m finishing off the leftovers from last night’s dinner.
Matthew scanned the shelves where the novelty toys were stocked and picked up a plastic pink pig that released a sugared pellet from its rear end every time its tail was raised. Tim had sometimes given him toys like this for free, but it was not yet clear whether Carl was planning on being as generous.
We’re having sausages and mash today. With gravy.
Sounds good, said Carl as he picked up his phone and began a fresh search of South Africa’s news sites.
Or there’s vegetarian lasagne for people who don’t like meat.
Well I’m not one of those.
Me either. I like sausages. They might be my favourite food after spaghetti bolognese and lamb chops. Matthew continued to fondle the toy. It was the last day of the school holidays and he wondered how much money Paul was going to pay him for his work in the kitchen. Maybe it would be enough to buy his Lego figurines and the pink pig. He returned the toy to the shelf. Carl wasn’t going to give it to him for free no matter how long he stood there admiring it.
Well I’d better get going.
By the time Carl looked up Matthew had crossed the street and disappeared back inside the pub. It was generous of Paul to offer him lunch, but Carl felt he was already growing fat from standing behind a counter all day. He was used to being more active, driving around in his car, drumming up business deals and taking meetings. When such work made him tired and frustrated the idea of serving inside a shop all day had seemed like heaven. But being so sedentary offered fewer pleasures than he had imagined. Already he was feeling trapped. Carl understood that a degree of disenchantment was to be expected at such an early stage in a new job, in a new place. And yet each afternoon he found himself spending more and more time on the internet, and questioning whether coming to Wood Green had been a good idea. What he needed was to hire someone to help. That way he could take a few hours off to relax and investigate what else Hobart had to offer. Someone like Matthew’s mother would be perfect. Paul was always going on about how hard Penny worked in the kitchen. And if he offered cash in hand then it wouldn’t cost that much. Otherwise he was going to have to start keeping shorter trading hours. Lack of sleep always affected his optimism, so staying up half the night with Paul probably wasn’t helping either. He enjoyed their time together on a physical level, but their lack of common interests was becoming a trial. Once they had finished discussing whether Mrs Whatshername was going to move into a retirement village, and if the new house being built up the road was too large and too ugly, Carl wanted to talk about news and politics and where the local economy might be heading. But every time he tried to raise such topics Paul’s face expressed utter bewilderment as to how such things could possibly be of interest.