On Tuesday Eva moved the window table back to its old corner.
Nora had shifted it during the four days Eva was away. Now there was room to pass between it and the counter without turning sideways. The café looked larger. Eva didn't like it.
“That blocks the serving route,” Nora said.
“It's where it always was.”
“I know. It's just, for Saturday—”
“I've been looking at Saturday.”
Nora took a breath, then lifted the other end of the table when Eva asked her to. That made Eva feel worse too.
The table had two scuffs on top and a slight wobble Will kept promising to fix. Eva and Ben used to sit there when the café was closing. She would drink tea, Ben would order cake and say it counted as helping local business. At Christmas they had seen a little boy on the pavement lean over and kiss his own reflection in the window.
It was a good corner. She wanted it back.
She put two chairs beside it and fetched the paper seating plan.
“Will,” she called, “have you made Nora an offer for after Saturday?”
He came out with flour on his elbow. “We've talked about keeping her on.”
“Ben was asking about it last night.”
“Good,” Will said, then glanced at Nora. She was stacking cups.
“Good that he was asking?”
“That she's thinking about staying.”
“We can use her,” he said.
“Then talk to me before you promise shifts. I'm doing that rota.”
“All right.”
“I don't want to find out at Jo's table.”
“You won't.”
He picked up the seating plan, saw the window corner and looked at the actual table.
“Are we moving everything again?”
“I'm trying the original arrangement.”
“Right.”
He didn't say she was being ridiculous. Eva wished he would, because then she could tell him why it wasn't ridiculous. Instead, he went back to the kitchen.
For half an hour the arrangement worked. Then a couple came in with a pushchair, and Eva had to move one chair to let them reach the table at the back. When she brought their drinks, Nora was returning with a tray of dirty cups. They couldn't pass.
Eva backed up. Her elbow caught the water jug on the counter.
The jug hit the floor with a noise so large that every conversation stopped.
“Nobody move,” Eva said.
That was unnecessary. Everyone was watching her.
Will came through the kitchen door carrying a tea towel. He looked at the water travelling under the counter and handed her the towel.
“For your shoe.”
The water had gone straight into it. She could feel her sock shrinking against her toes.
Nora fetched the brush and dustpan without being asked, then crouched between Eva and the tables.
“I'll do the glass,” she said. “You get the mop.”
Eva wanted to say she knew how to clear up a jug. But she got the mop.
By the time the floor was dry, the couple's coffee was cold. Eva made it again. She took a replacement jug out of the cupboard and found that it was the small one with a chip in the handle.
“We need a new one before Saturday,” she told Will.
“Yes.”
“I'll pay.”
He looked up from checking the bin bag for sharp pieces. “It's a jug, Eva. We can survive a jug.”
She swallowed.
Nora was wiping the counter. Eva went over to her.
“Your layout was better.”
Nora wrung out the cloth. “For carrying things, yes.”
“We'll put it back.”
They moved the table together while Will kept the customers away from the damp patch. Eva left the chairs facing the window. It was the smallest piece of the old arrangement she could keep without making trouble.
In the kitchen she took off her wet shoe. Her sock made a faint sucking noise on the heel.
Will turned round at the sound.
“Don't,” she said.
“I haven't said anything.”
“Your face has.”
He bent to open the bottom drawer. “I've got spare socks.”
“Why?”
“I work in a kitchen. Things fall on me.”
“Food things?”
“We don't choose.”
The socks were mustard yellow. Eva held them up.
“You bought these deliberately?”
“They're cheerful.”
“They're the colour of a warning.”
“You're welcome.”
She laughed then, properly, and sat on the stool to put them on. Will leaned against the worktop and watched her struggle with the damp one.
“You could help,” she said.
“Would that be normal?”
“Probably not.”
His grin came slowly. She felt it in an inconvenient place, low in her stomach, and looked at the sock.
“I was horrible about the table,” she said.
“You liked where it was.”
“That's a kind way of saying it.”
“I'm capable of one a day.”
She eased the dry sock over her toes. It was too big, with enough room in the heel for somebody else's heel as well.
“They were at Jo's together,” she said. “Just sitting there.”
Will's grin faded.
“She put me opposite the cupboards. As if I was the extra person she'd fitted in.”
He pushed a stool towards hers with his foot and sat down. They were close enough for their knees to touch if either turned.
“I don't know what I'm meant to do with all the places,” Eva said. “He can't have every one.”
“He won't.”
“You don't know that.”
“I think you'll be happier.”
He said it with such certainty that she looked at him.
“Eventually,” he added.
“Could you put a date on eventually?”
“Tuesday week?”
“Too far away.”
“Thursday. But Thursday happiness costs extra.”
She laughed again. He was pleased with himself. Usually she would tell him so. Today she let him have it.
There was a little flour on his cheek as well as his elbow. She wanted to wipe it off. The want was brief and quite clear.
From the café, Nora called that the bread delivery had arrived.
Will got up. Eva put her shoe back on. It was still wet, but less than it had been.
“Are you going to the harbour tomorrow?” she asked.
“Wasn't planning to.”
“Come with me.”
His hand stopped on the door.
Eva could have said she needed a friend. She did need a friend. She also wanted to stand next to someone who wanted her while Ben stood next to Nora, and Will knew her too well to miss that.
“Ben will be there,” she said.
Will lowered his hand.
“Right.”
“I know.”
He looked at her for a moment. “Ask me again when you know what you're asking.”
Then he went to bring in the bread.
Eva stayed on the stool, looking at the yellow sock above her shoe. She had wanted him to say yes quickly, before she had to hear herself explain it.
That evening, when she took the socks off at home, she folded them together and put them beside her bag to bring back.
She still wanted to ask.