I WISH I HAD SEEN by Marion Twyman

I wish I had seen the inside of the café before I went in. It was raining hard and very cold, and there was half an hour before my bus was due, so, seeing the word ‘CAFÉ’ on the condensation-fogged window, I dashed inside, turning backwards and shaking my umbrella out of the door as I entered. I turned round, and that’s when I wished I had seen inside before I went in !
The air was heavy with the all-pervading stink of chip fat and wet dish cloths. There were several small square formica-topped tables, all with sauce bottles and sugar dispensers, and lots of spindly wooden chairs. All the tables were occupied by men, workmen mostly, and several biker types. As I entered, the place went silent, save for the hissing of the coffee machine. All eyes turned towards me, and forks stopped, poised on their way to open mouths.
There was one table occupied by just one man, not a very savoury looking type, and his Daily Mirror was spread over most of the table. I put my bags down beside a vacant chair. ‘Is this seat taken?’ I asked. His reply was a mild grunt as he gathered up his paper and moved his half-empty tea cup. I went to the counter where a greasy fat man waited to take my order – no waitress service here then.
‘A glass of milk please’ I said. He poured it slowly, and as he took my money I noticed the broken and grimy fingernails. Serving food and taking money – tut tut I thought. Back in my seat , I realised everyone had stopped looking at me, and a few muttered conversations started up again. I quickly drank my milk, and as I put the glass down, I saw the chip in the rim. I also spotted a crack in my table-companion’s tea cup. Thank goodness it had stopped raining by now, so I left, needless to say, without leaving a tip. I shall go back there next week though, but this time in my official capacity as Environmental Health Inspector.

Advertisements

About highamwriters

A group of recreational creative writers and if you ask us nicely we will let you publish some of our work
This entry was posted in Marion Twyman and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s