The next morning Eva arrived at The Lantern twelve minutes early and waited outside until she was only five minutes early. She didn't want Nora to think she had rushed there to see her.
Nora was behind the counter when she went in.
“Morning,” Nora said. Then she saw Eva's face. “Oh.”
It was a small, useless word. Eva hung her coat on its usual hook.
The café smelled of coffee and newly painted wood. Will had been sanding the windowsills during the refurbishment and had left one smooth patch bare because he liked it better than the paint. Eva had spent Friday's last call with him arguing that liking wood wasn't a reason to stop halfway round a window.
Everything looked the same. There was a jar of pencils beside the bookings book. The little paper boat a customer's child had made sat on the till. Nora had put her bag under the counter where Eva kept hers.
“Can we talk?” Eva asked.
Nora glanced towards the kitchen. “Yes.”
“Here. Before anyone comes in.”
Nora took off the apron she had just tied. Without it, she looked less like somebody who might be sent to fetch milk.
Eva had practised being calm on the walk. The sentence she had practised was gone.
“You knew he was with me.”
“Yes.”
“How did it start?”
“We talked when he was working here. He asked me for a drink.”
Eva looked up at the new lights above the counter. She'd stood on a chair holding one straight while Ben fixed it. Nora had brought him a coffee afterwards.
“And you said yes.”
“I did.”
Nora's eyes were brown. Eva couldn't remember noticing that before. She had noticed Nora's quick hands and her habit of taking the first sip of a drink too hot and being astonished every time.
“Three weeks?”
“About that.”
“Before I asked you to cover me.”
Nora looked down at the folded apron. “Yes.”
“You could have said you couldn't do it.”
“I needed the work. A full week, not a shift here and there.”
Eva's fingers closed round the strap of her bag.
“And you thought I didn't need to know.”
“I thought Ben should tell you.”
“Did you ask him to?”
“Yes. He said he would.”
Behind them the kitchen door opened. Will came out holding two mugs, saw them and stopped.
Eva wished he had waited a minute. She also wished he had arrived ten minutes ago.
“Ben's left me,” she said. “For Nora.”
Will set the mugs down. “I'm sorry.”
Nora put the apron on the counter.
“I'm taking these outside,” she said, picking up the little stand with the day's opening hours.
“Don't make this sound like I chased you out,” Eva said.
Nora stood still. Then she put the sign down.
Eva could hear the fridge humming. This was worse. She had made her stay, and now all three of them were standing round a sign.
“I need the bookings book,” Eva said.
Will passed it to her.
Saturday was the opening supper; the regular evenings would begin the following Thursday. Twenty places, a small menu, the candles Eva had bought on sale and refused to describe as an investment. For months people had asked why a place with a kitchen and such good windows shut at five. Eva had finally talked Will into giving them an answer.
She opened the book to the right page. Nora had neatly added two telephone bookings during Eva's trip. One was for a daughter bringing her mother for a birthday. Both had numbers, party sizes and the deposits marked beside them. Eva couldn't find anything wrong with either.
“Thank you for keeping this up,” she said, and disliked herself for how much it cost.
“Of course.”
Eva looked at Will. “Nora was covering until today.”
“I've asked her to stay on this week. We need hands for Saturday.”
“You could have told me.”
“I should have. I thought you had enough happening.”
“At what point did you know I had enough happening?”
He met her eyes. “I knew they were spending time together. I didn't know what he was going to do to you.”
She stared at him. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I should have asked him what was going on.”
“You should have asked me.”
“Yes.”
He didn't argue, which left her with nothing useful to push against.
Nora went into the kitchen to collect the pastries. Eva let her go this time.
“I can give you the day,” Will said.
“I want my day.”
“All right.”
He slid one mug towards her. “Tea. It'll be cold if we leave it.”
She looked at the mug.
Two years ago Will had asked her to dinner after a long Saturday shift. She had said she was with Ben. He had known, of course. He had said he had hoped it wasn't serious, and then looked so embarrassed that she had made a joke about giving him the washing-up as punishment.
They had survived it. They argued about menus, stole chips from each other's plates and occasionally mentioned that disastrous invitation when one of them needed to win a point. Ben used to call Will her reserve boyfriend. Eva had told him he wasn't funny.
“Don't be nice to me because you once asked me out,” she said.
Will leaned against the counter. “I'm nice to nearly everyone. It's a weakness in a man who charges for toast.”
She almost smiled. Almost was enough to make her angry again.
“I'm still running Saturday.”
“You're the manager, Eva.”
“Good. Put that on the rota.”
He turned the rota towards her. Her name was already there.
She picked up a pencil and wrote the jobs underneath it. Seating. Guests. Serving plan. Things she could still make happen if she took them one at a time.
Nora brought the pastries out. At the front door, the first customer knocked despite the CLOSED sign.
“Shall I?” Nora asked.
Eva finished writing her name beside the supper bookings.
“Yes,” she said. “Let them in.”