"Yeah," Matt said, his voice muffled as he solved my problem by bending low over the gears he was, presumably, fixing. I was worried his shaggy brown curls would get irredeemably entangled in the chain. "There's never much doing on a Wednesday. Everyone forgets we're open at all, what with the half-day closing."
"We have half-day closing?" I asked stupidly.
Matt looked up, a smudge of grease on his freckled nose. I fought the urge to wipe it off for him, because blokes don't do that for each other. "Yeah, didn't Jay say? We close at one on a Wednesday. I'm surprised he didn't tell you not to bother coming in until tomorrow."
I wasn't. Bloody Jay.
"Oh, well," Matt carried on, "maybe he wanted to start you off gently?"
"What, Jay?" I raised my eyes briefly heavenward. Thinking about my past with Jay often prompted a heartfelt prayer for strength. "Like he did when he thought I should learn how to swim and shoved me off the end of Bournemouth pier?"
Matt laughed. "Did it work?"
"No." I grimaced at the memory. "Luckily there were some anglers there, and one of them jumped in to save me. I was only five."
"Bet Jay got into trouble with your mum, then."
I cast my mind back and hit a blank, apart from a vague memory of Mum telling me I shouldn't have been pestering my brother, anyway. "Doubt it. But the angler gave me a dead crab to take home." I brightened. "Mum must have been horrified, but she just had to smile and say thanks, seeing as he'd just saved my life. And Jay was really jealous." I'd kept the crab in my bedroom for a couple of weeks, until it mysteriously disappeared-by which time the smell had been so rank even I didn't miss it.
Matt sighed. "Must be great, having a brother. Apart from, you know, him trying to kill you and all."
"Er, yes. I think." My turn to sigh. "I suppose I'd better go back and make the place look open." I took a step back toward the door. Matt nodded and bent low over the bike once more, his baggy jeans slipping halfway down his arse to reveal stripey underwear that reminded me of one of the throws in Jay's living room.
I caught myself staring, and shook my head. What the hell was I thinking? Time to get back to work.
***
I sat behind that till and counted down the hours to one o'clock. How on earth could Jay make a living doing this? We had only two customers in who actually bought anything-one, a cycle lock for seven pounds ninety-nine, and the other, a pump adaptor for 87p. At this rate, we'd be bankrupt by the end of the week.
As I turned the shop sign to "Closed" I became aware of a sort of shuffling sound behind me. When I turned, Matt was there. "Um. I was just wondering-do you fancy going to the caff for lunch? I mean, it's nothing special, just a greasy spoon sort of place, so maybe you'd rather not … "
"I'd love to!" I said a little too loudly. All those hours with no one to talk to had got to me a bit.
"Great!" Matt enthused-and promptly tripped over the most expensive bike in the shop, which started to topple over towards the next in line. I lunged to catch it, having visions of writing off all Jay's stock in one fell swoop as the domino effect took over. "Shit. Sorry about that," Matt muttered, hanging his dark, shaggy head.
I straightened, breathing hard. "No harm done." Maybe this was how Jay kept afloat. Matt trashed the stock, and Jay claimed the insurance. I wondered how much longer it'd be before they started refusing to pay out for acts of clod.
We made it to the café without further incident, thankfully. Then again, it was only two doors down, past a hairdresser's that wafted out humid fumes smelling of mingled fruit and chemicals. The café was pretty much as Matt had said-linoleum floor, orange Formica tables and a misspelt chalkboard menu that seemed to consist mainly of grease, grease and more grease. Generously seasoned with a sprinkling of misplaced apostrophes. The place was almost full, though, which argued well for the quality of the food, if not for its healthiness. The clientele was mostly male, in a mix of business and casual wear, but there was a group of four women dressed for the office in the far corner. They looked up when we went in, one of them giving me a frankly appraising look that was a little alarming. I broke eye contact and headed over to the free table farthest from their corner, trying to surreptitiously check if I'd spilt anything down my front or left my flies open.
"Does Jay ever come in here-watch out!" I managed to save the vinegar bottle Matt's wayward elbow had knocked off a table on the way.
"Sorry," Matt said, looking mortified. "And, um, no. Not really his sort of place. He usually has something healthy and cold in the shop."