Then There Were Four

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Can I have a Tall Vanilla Iced Coffee?"

I plaster on a smile and select the order on the screen in front of me. "Yes, of course. Is that all?"

The lady in front of the counter rummages in her bag for her purse. "Yeah, that's it," she replies.

"Coming right up. That'll be £3,50."

Sundays are usually slow days at the café and today it's empty, save for the woman I'm serving, a teenage girl reading a book in the corner and a man reading the newspaper.

The bell over the café door rings as someone enters. A few people look up at the man as he comes in, looks around and stands behind the woman. He has a black hoody on with the hood up and he's wearing large dark sunglasses, which makes it difficult to see his face. I'm instantly on edge. He looks dangerous, especially because his hands are in his pockets.

The lady hands me her money and as I work with the change, I hear Sergé preparing the order behind me. It's almost lunch time and I can feel my stomach turning. I overslept this morning and didn't have enough time to get much breakfast – all I got was a breakfast bar. I'm still tired from everything that happened last night and now I'm starved too.

I hand the woman her change and the man in the hoody steps forward.

"Hi, how can I help you?" I say, trying to see his face. The only thing I can make out under the darkness of the hood is that he has dark hair – black or brown – and a stubble across his chin.

"Yeah, may I have a..." He looks up at the signs above me, still deciding what he'd like. I try desperately to keep my smile on but my stomach's making it difficult to act happy.

"Can I have a Grande Peppermint Tea?" he finally asks.

I hesitate for a moment. I swear I recognise his voice. I stare at him for a moment longer than would be considered polite, trying to figure out how I know him.

"Of course," I say then pause again. "Do I know you?" I ask.

He looks down at the counter and pulls his hood in tighter over his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Are you sure? I swear I recognise your voice."

He glances up at me for an instant. "No, don't recognise you at all. How much will that be?"

"Uhh, sure." I press a few things on the screen. "That will be £4."

He hands me the money and as he does, his sleeve slides up an inch and I see what look like dark tattoos on his arm. He hurriedly goes to the pick-up counter. I watch him as Sergé finishes up his drink and hands it to him. He speeds out of the café, looking over his shoulder once before swinging the door shut behind him.

I watch the door for a few moments, trying to place the voice with a face I recognise. I glance up at the clock on the wall.

"Yay, I'm off! I'll see you on Tuesday." I tell Sergé. He laughs and takes over counter duty. I hang my apron up, wash my hands and grab the bag I'd packed with left-overs that we didn't take to the concert.

I head to the park, choose a bench and take out my lunch – a chicken roll, a salad and a bottle of Coke.

I'm still thinking about the strange man in the café when – I see him. He's sitting a few benches away from me looking at the empty playground with his tea in his hand. He still has his glasses on but he has his hood pulled down.

It may have been difficult to place his voice but I would recognise that black mane anywhere.

After having a few heart palpitations, I look at my options. I could either go up to him and embarrass myself like I always do; or I could just ignore him and get on with my life and let him get on with his.