Agent Ez

Chapter 9 - The Ruined Tea Party

The school day can’t finish fast enough. As soon as the bell rings I’m out of there, I head home and after quickly changing into a faded Rolling Stones oversized tee, a bronze metallic skirt, my Converse. I stuff my phone, keys and headphones into my jacket pocket and leave for the train station.

I catch two trains leading to Manchester city centre, I could’ve just taken the direct one to the city centre but just in case anyone is following me, I don’t. Once I reach the city centre I begin walking to my destination, I take a few turns I don’t need to and arrive at a small café amongst a huge Costa and clusters of corporate buildings Unbeknownst to many, this little café is actually pretty famous.

The decor is beautifully simplistic, white walls with mismatched tables and chairs of various colours and sizes, imported from every country in the world. The owner has private rooms and even a crèche. If you donated a chair or table and it’s to the owners taste you get free meals for as long as he keeps. I was once on a mission to Tunisia and shipped out a truckload of floor cushions, I kept one for my room, gave Poppy, Amelia and Jack one each and sent the rest here.

Of course, I got into tremendous amounts of trouble for endangering my real identity and the existence of the Academy, but free meals at my favourite place in Manchester for the rest of my life? Yes, please.

I enter into the small shop and it’s choc-a-bloc, walking towards the maître d, I introduce myself [yes, this place is that busy] and wait. Moments later Tony, the owner of this marvellous café comes into view.

‘ESMIE’, he shouts, enveloping me in a hug. I knew him from my brother and after the Tunisian cushions we became closer. ‘How are you my dear? I haven’t seen you in a while, I suppose you’re here to see Max? He’s in the usual, go on up, I’ll send someone with your favourite.’

Hugging Tony is bittersweet, it brings back memories of better times as well as being a link to my past that I take comfort from. He walks off without waiting for a reply and I make my way through the throngs of people, tables and chairs towards the stairs that lead to the private seating areas private seating areas.

Each area is truly private. They can be [and have been] used by Mafia bosses, drug dealers, MI5, Presidents – you name it, everyone has been in those rooms. Tony has certain rules though: No fighting in any of the rooms. He has CCTV but it only takes pictures to see what’s going on inside the room and after every meeting the tape gets wiped. Only he knows who is in which room at any given time and he refuses to side with anyone, not the law nor the law breakers. No one else has ever seen a tape of anyone else’s meeting.

When I reach the private rooms section I quickly duck into the room with the number ‘5’ on it and close the door. Lurking in the corridors of a place like this is quite dangerous.

I open the door to find Max sitting down on the floor cushions of the room- my room. Designed especially for me, after I’d I bought the cushions. I stride in and absorb the different colours, the various animal skins [faux fur] and sit myself on the cushion directly facing Max.

In between us on the low table is a wad of papers and when I come back to reality, I glance at Max giving him a huge smile. He smiles back but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I only realise that someone else is in the room when I hear a cough, as I’m about to turn in their direction – there is a knock at the door and in comes Tony with a platter of chocolate chip pancakes, drizzled with strawberry compote and topped with a heap of fresh berries along with which he carries a teapot with three cups and saucers, a small jug of milk and a little pot of sugar.

Houston, Heaven has arrived on Earth.

He places the items down and leaves, I pour myself some tea and dig in. Whoever coughed before comes to sit down besides Max. I’m not even paying attention, because: Hello. Pancakes.