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The roadside cafe at Christmas
Roadside Cafe
Listening to the familiar spit and crackle of eggs in the large pan, I wondered again whether there was more for me then this grotty roadside café. The familiar pop pop pop of the coffee percolator and the cries from Frank as he ran in and out of the kitchen. Rubbing my hands on my apron I grab my notebook and push my way through the door. Working as a waitress I can confirm that my legs feel like knives stabbing me, a 12-hour shift is never fun. Serving people 24 hours a day I have witnessed many late nights and hard early mornings. Today was not proving any different. 11am on a Monday and I’ve been here since 2am.
The busy hum of customers and dirty tables demanding to be wiped. Watching the snow fall outside I glance around the busy room and notice three small children sat wearing shorts, T-shirts and baseball caps. There is a man with them, sat talking into his phone, wearing a thick heavy brown coat. Is this picture normal? Are these his children? surely they are cold. Walking to their table, the man look up. The children remain silent as he orders coffee, three coca colas and four burgers. Should I be concerned? He was feeding them after all. Maybe all is fine. Serving other customers, I continue to keep an eye on them. Mentioning my concerns to Geoff the cook he told me that I’ve read too many books and there is nothing wrong.
Concerns
They had been there about 30 minutes when I see the girl walk to the toilet, I now follow and pretend to clean around the wash basins. Hearing sobs I know I am right to be concerned. Hearing her pull the lock back she then looks at me, reaches into her pocket, hands me a piece of paper and leaves.
Stunned I now read it. “I saw you look, help! Blue Nissan, bad man.”
Walking out to the car park, I find the car and photograph the registration. Now phoning the police I tell them what has happened and advise them of the car.
In the café they are getting up to leave, how can I stop them? Phoning Geoff I tell him to act quickly we need to delay the man and children. Despite his reservations I was relieved that he acted quickly, bringing out more coffee and cola.
What now?
“More drink before you hit the road? the coffee is bottomless today”, he said kindly.
The man looked at him suspiciously as the children sat back down eyeing the cola greedily. The man grumbled about his schedule, and said they must go. The small girl now protested wanting more drink. Staring Geoff down, the man started to get angry.
“What is this? We are leaving”.
Its now that two police cars arrive in the car park, and the man’s face turns to panic.
“Daisy what did you do?”
“You’re a bad man”
“And you tell too many stories.”
Christmas
Here the story evolves. When you see children not dressed appropriately for the weather, or a child hands you a note, it’s easy to misinterpret the situation. The man had been on the phone to the children’s mum, his partner. Daisy was the eldest and didn’t like him. She just wanted daddy which was a whole other story.
Dean had decided to take the children Christmas shopping. He wanted to buy their mum a present. Knowing that the eldest, Daisy, didn’t trust him he had bought them a burger.
Getting them to dress for the weather hadn’t worked and they had left their coats in the car. Making an effort to get to know the children he knew that Daisy was difficult but did not expect to be speaking to the police today. After checking his story, they spoke with me. I hadn’t wasted their time as next time it might not es innocent, and no I was right not to approach him.
Watching them leave, I thought of my own life. This man was trying to do a nice thing and bring his partner a happy Christmas. I will be here; we are open every day of the year. My children will be with my mum. Christmas will just be another day. I sat and realised that we need decorations, we need a proper Christmas menu and maybe we could sell some exclusive café Christmas gifts. Christmas is for giving and sharing. I give and share my time; we need to make our café a warm and welcoming place for our travellers. Unsure what Geoff would say, I now retrieved my notebook and returned to work.
Shopping
Dean walked the children into the busy shopping centre. Daisy reached for his hand having thought about what she had done.
“Sorry, but you’re not daddy”
“No love but I’m trying to care for you and your mum. You just need to let me”.
“Mum likes clothes and I’m cold.”
“Well lucky that we are surrounded by clothes stores, come on, lets shop.”
Better to give than receive
Christmas morning and Gabbie was surprised by the three large parcels under the tree. Things seemed to have changed over the last two weeks. The children’s dad was still being an idiot, but Daisy had been nicer about Dean. The police incident had scared Daisy, and her and Dean were now talking more. You can’t buy love but a new found respect was being built.
Opening the presents, boots and a large woolly jumper from Dean and a new top from the children. She loved them and was so grateful that this man had made such an effort for her. She hadn’t known him long, but he was certainly a really good man.
At Christmas time it is always better to give then to receive, whether it’s giving your time or giving a present. Whatever you do, bring someone joy!
Happy Christmas everyone! Hope you have a lovely time!
For more see The empty school classroom
Written for Writers Unite! photo prompt
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The Winterton Weeping Woods
Our holiday
What have I done? This is a bit different to the glossy brochure. Clever marketing had brought us to what should have been a park lodge. Instead, it is a dingy barn. A barn with a leaky roof, running water and a bathroom. Sort of habitable, the bargain price makes more sense now. Where in the UK can you rent a park lodge for £200, for a week in August? You can’t! I’m sure that wouldn’t even pay for Butlins. At least Shaun is smiling. Mike, not so much. If I hadn’t been left alone to holiday plan, then this wouldn’t have happened. Mike had liked the price though and had enthusiastically loaded up the car.
Five hours from home and here we are. Winterton Weeping Woods, weeping was right, this was a disaster. No WIFI, no heating, I look again at the brochure, did I misread it? Or have we been scammed Luckily, we have thick heavy blankets in the car. The only happy person here is Shaun and he is five. Needing warmth, we build a fire and as darkness truly settles in we became more agreeable to the situation. We needed an adventure, something to bring us together. However, a tent in our back garden would have been better then this. I have never considered sleeping in a barn. This one did at least have beds and duvets, but this was not the holiday I had planned.
Night
As the evening got darker, I started thinking of what could be hidden in the woods. We were alone, maybe there were other holiday makers equally dissatisfied with their accommodation, we would go for a walk tomorrow, or so I thought.
2am
I am woken by a howl. Something big was outside. Then a loud banging, I just wanted to sleep. I could hear Mike stir next to me. Pulling up the covers I am vaguely aware that he is going to check on the ruckus.
In life things happen, we make choices, and they are sometimes the wrong ones. Maybe I should have gone to the door, but Mike seemed like he was on a mission to get rid of them. As all went quiet, I fell back to sleep.
8am
Woken by Shaun, I realised that Mike had not come back. Looking outside I couldn’t see him, and he hadn’t left a note. The car was still there though, so he couldn’t have gone far. Checking my phone there is no message there either. Grabbing Shaun’s hand, I lead him out of the barn and now start walking. In my worry over Mike, we haven’t eaten or had a warm drink. I’ve literally just stepped into my trousers, boots and coat and dressed Shaun.
Summary
So here we are, a forty-year-old woman who should know better and a five year old, now cold, hungry and lost in the woods. No Wifi and phone reception is poor too. Shouting Dad and Mike had got us nowhere and great, it’s now raining!
Peter
Its now as we sit cuddled up under a tree that an angel appears. Not a godly angel but a man who changed this whole awful drama around. Explaining who we were and why we are here, he started laughing.
“I’m so sorry”, he said, “I don’t know about your husband but why are you sleeping in the barn?”
“Is this not Winterton Weeping Woods?”
“It is, but the barn is where I go when the missus has had enough of me. The holiday park is just beyond the woods. I can take you, but we must find your husband.”
Pulling out what looked like a radio, we soon found out where Mike was. Last night there had been an accident and the people involved had knocked on the barn door wanting Peter but found Mike instead. Mike had then obliged by going with them to the hospital after helping lift the young man on to their trailer.
Peter now told them where Mike was supposed to be, and I could hear laughing. I guess it is a funny story, but I feel incredibly stupid. Showing us the pathway back, he offers to meet us in an hour to lead us to the holiday park where we should be.
The weeping woods
Day Two of our holiday was not as we had expected. The reception staff had laughed too, this is a story that will be retold. The daft family who spent a night in a barn. Maybe the park needs better signs!
However, at least they found Mike and he had been good with the injured man, so a good ending there.
Having now found the park lodge with the hot tub we are no longer weeping. This was more like I had imagined and just as stated in the glossy brochure.
So why are these woods called Weeping woods? Well according to the internet there is a history of people going missing, taken. On a quiet night, howling and crying can be heard. I looked at my full wine glass and then out towards the woods. Was that howl last night the injured man? Or something more sinister? I looked up at the sky and thanked God that we had met Peter who had brought us to the park lodge where we should be. That barn had certainly not been safe! I’m sure there is more to this then the locals and Peter are willing to share. Maybe its not his missus that sends Peter to the barn but something else. Why was this holiday so cheap?
Yes, I need to stop thinking about it, relax and enjoy my holiday, playing detective would quite possibly get me in trouble, that’s what happens on television anyway. I could find myself buried in the woods, I shuddered.
Sipping my wine, I now lean back in the hot tub, listening to the rhythmic bubbles I close my eyes. We are okay, we are safe and all here and I need to quit the overthinking and enjoy my break from work. We are here to relax, not to solve the mystery of the Winterton Weeping Woods.
Written for Writers Unite! photo prompt
For more see – Back on the road written for writers unite
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Back on the road
On the road
Tell me, why is it that when life finally gets good, it quickly turns bad? After working and building on my hopes and dreams, here I am, again on the road alone. I had it all, a husband and three kids, and now they have gone too. Unable to fix myself, a burden to others I packed up my backpack, wrote a note, walked to the busy highway and stuck out my thumb. Now miles away from home I sit and contemplate my life.
When I met Lewis, I had been working in a school. Assisting the teachers and helping the children. After a poor work review, I quit and was soon packing groceries in the local supermarket. Depression hit; this wasn’t me; I had a university degree and should be doing more.
Then expectations from the children. Drive me here, drive me there, help me with my homework. Cook my dinner and no I don’t want the same as my sister. Lewis just sitting playing with the TV remote control, of course his job was harder than mine!
Life
Is this just normal life or should we be demanding more? I am an expert at letting life push me down. My heart was well and truly in my boots and I’m not sure if I can sink any further. Looking at the world around me I watch a squirrel running up a tree, busily going about its day. Would my life be easier if I was a squirrel? I’m sure squirrels have their worries and problems too.
Dragging myself off the floor, I glance at the road ahead. I pick up the heavy pack and check my phone, As I suspected, no messages, 9am and they were pleased to be rid of me. They must have sorted their own breakfasts, got them selves to school. See I knew they didn’t need me to chauffeur them.
Last night
James and Glen, had sat watching the big house. They saw the woman leave, with what looked like a heavy pack on her back, she had walked straight passed the car and headed at a fast pace down the road. They wondered if she knew what was happening, was she running? Surely not. However not their problem. Their job was the man of the house, Lewis. Accountant to his family but guilty conspirator to their boss. Their job was to put a bullet in him and if they failed then they would be the ones found dead.
Attaching a silencer to the gun, James slid out of the car while Glen sat and watched. This job had to be done right. Twenty minutes later he reappeared. Having broken in the back door he now could confirm that the deed was done. Their plans were now safe, Lewis would not be repeating anything.
Lucie
Lying in her bed she saw a black shadow. It wasn’t daddy, It was too tall. Pretending to be asleep she lay still. As the shadow left she heard a scraping sound then a possible muffled scream. She was scared, pulling up the covers she wanted mummy, she would know what to do.
10 am
Sat in a road side café I was warming my hands on my coffee mug. Looking at my phone I wondered why Lewis hadn’t messaged or phoned, Surely, I didn’t really mean nothing to him. As it rang, I jumped, it was the school. Maybe he hadn’t managed this morning like I thought he would. As I answered I felt myself sink even further. The children had not arrived, and Lewis was not answering his phone. At the offer of a welfare visit, I asked myself how had things got this bad? Surely their dad wasn’t this incapable. I remembered the squirrel, was its life simpler? Foraging for food, looking after its family and staying away from predators.
Apologising I advised that I was miles away and consented to the visit. Hoping that things were alright at home. Knowing they would let me know if there was something wrong. An hour later my phone rang again, and my life fell apart once more.
Home
In life there are no certainties. Did I really think I could just walk out? Just hit the open road. I had let life’s pressures get the better of me. Now I was suddenly a single mum. Lewis hadn’t even known I had left. Why hadn’t he told me that he was in trouble? Had this contributed to his arrogance over the last year?
Holding Lucie, it appeared she had seen her dad’s killer, a dark shadow in the doorway. At ten years old she would possibly be traumatised for life. If I had been lying in bed next to him, would I have been shot too? I do love my children, but their demands are relentless, it was Lewis that had finally driven me away but now it really is just me parenting alone. I had wanted to leave but I didn’t want him dead.
Now was not the time to be discussing this. We are all heartbroken and the police are investigating and trying to keep us safe. No school or work for a while, there would be time for the four of us to talk properly and try and start to rebuild our lives. The police have referred me for counselling, but I haven’t told them the full extent of my mental exhaustion. The children need me now, guilt and mixed sad emotions are weighing me down.
Lewis
Would life ever be good again? For now, we are in a safe house, The police are saying that Lewis was not a bad man, but he had been mixed up in something through his business. They suspected that he had been a loose end that had needed cutting off. We didn’t need to be loose ends as well so until the killer was behind bars we remain here where no one can find us.
Hold on to those you care about, the future is not certain. Had I saved myself by leaving? We will never know, but I do know that my children need me. Maybe they are my purpose and I’m not such a failure after all.
Written for Write the story on Writers Unite!
For more see, The cold truth behind the shoes on the line
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