Some Sort of Complication. Chapter Four.

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A woman in a red coat burst through the cafe door, panting slightly as she closed it against the wind. I grinned, watching the fading blush of her cheeks, and the way she looped her bag handle around her fist. She stood tall and straight, and walked with purpose.

To my right there was a squeal, loud and piercing, and Cassie bounced across the tiled floor to strangle the woman. Cassie's thin arms wrapped tightly around the woman's neck, and her head buried into the flyaway hair. The woman looked stunned, but somewhat immune to the high-pitched keening that seemed to come from Cassie's prone form.

"Good to see you too, kid." Cassie leapt back with indignation.

"I am not a kid!" The woman laughed with an elegance that Cassie lacked, and slipped across the floor to a stool at the counter.

I turned away, trying to tune out the indignant grumbles of Cassie, and watched out the window once more. The clouds grouped, looking as though a storm was going to come soon. Thinking about it, I hadn’t brought an umbrella, and being caught in the rain sounded poetically stupid. With a sigh, I stood and carried my empty lunch-ware to the front. A moment later I was slipping past Cassie and through the kitchen door.

The smells and noise assaulted me immediately. They were brilliant as a slippery clash; the heat and steam of cooking fit well with the clatter of equipment. Above it all rose Peter’s voice as he gestured at Rob. They were both grinning while keeping an eye on the dishes and saucepans on either side. Leaving my used things on the metal bench that ran around the room, I twisted between the other cooks, smiling greetings and tasting as I went.


Rob saw me first, glancing down toward the laughing cooks he caught my eye and waved me over. The crowd seemed thicker the closer it was to them, so squeezing past without knocking anyone became a task. I arrived at Peter's side with hair mussed and a distinct smell of steam rising off me. Rob hugged me tight, smiling quietly as Peter started to explain what he wanted to do for Cassie’s birthday.

“I think we’ll throw a party here, let her invite friends and have fun.”

I shrugged, looking over at the bubbling pots. “Do what you like, I don’t mind.”

“But you must come! There is no party without you!” I cringed away; the idea of spending time with a bunch of people I didn’t know wasn’t appealing at all.

“We’ll see, then.” Robert grinned, watching me, “Rob, what’s been going? I’ve not seen you in ages!”

“Here and there, you know how it is.” He stirred his pots alternately, not even looking at them. It made me want to giggle, the ease that Rob took to cook. He’d always loved the kitchen, since we were kids and his mum would mention baking biscuits. He’d throw himself into the kitchen, the chincha is waiting! Ca-mon mum! The chincha is waiting!

“And what are you doing back here, in my chincha?”He caught my gaze with a sudden grin, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“How long did your mum try and get you to say kitchen? Had to be weeks, years, even.”

Bobby, baby, she’d say, it’s not chincha, it’s kitchen. Say it for me? Kit-chen. Rob would smile up at her with that sudden brilliance that transformed him from average to amazing, and say sure mum! She’d smile back at him, giving me a worried, if apologetic glance, even then, I’m glad, baby. You’re a big boy, big words for big boys, hey? He’d nod with the seriousness of a seven year old and bounce his way past her into the kitchen. Ca-mon mum! Let’s cook biscuits! She’d laugh call back in a second, Bobby, just a second.

She looked at me, once. When we were older, twelve or so, she looked at me with that sad seriousness Bobby’s okay, right? At school? I could tell, she knew about the bullying. Or maybe she'd just guessed it, from the way he was. Yeah, Missus K, he’s okay. She nibbled her lip and glanced behind her, where Rob was flipping through recipe books. He’s not... getting into strife? She looked so worried, it cut me to see it. Nah, Missus K, no one’s causing him strife. Got an eye on Rob, honest. She cheered a little, managing a smile. Ca-mon, Mells! Into the chincha with you! She cringed, hearing him, and that sadness crept back.

“I dunno, Mells, but it sure was fun to say it, aye?” He grinned back at me, though the same sadness was in his eyes.

“Tell her she has to come, Bob!” Peter shook his spoon into the pot, splattering the sides with white sauce. “There’s no party without Mella!”

“I reckon she’s ‘llowed to make her own decisions, aye?” Peter looked disappointed, and Rob was back to concentrating on the food under his care. “But. Mella, go to the party. You’ve never had enough fun.”

I couldn’t tell if he was upset with me now. Lord knew, the man could go into moods like anyone else, more so than most, to be honest. I could feel Peter watching me as I spaced into Rob’s back, eyes unfocused for the moment.

“Yeah... yeah.” My eyes snapped to meet Peter’s, and he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’ll go then. Whatever.” He nodded slightly. The mood had dampened, none of us looking forward to more conversation. “So. Anyway. I’m off. Be good, call later, kay?”

I kissed Peter’s cheek and pressed Rob’s shoulder a moment.

“Bye!” I made my step bounce and grinned at them both, weaving backward through the kitchen. Peter cringed, calling out “watch out!” every few seconds. With a quickly blown kiss, I turned and took off, Peter’s curses and Rob’s laughter following me.

Cassie stared as I burst through the kitchen doors. “You’re not allowed back there!”

“Chill, Cassie-cake” She looked right offended at the ‘cake’ part of that. “I own half this place. I can go where I like.” I grinned brightly, keeping things as happy as possible.

The woman sitting across the counter looked me over. “You’re the owner?”

“Co-owner. Cassie’s boss, Peter, is the other. You ought to say hi to him, he’s lovely.” I kept the smile on my face, even as I moved around to her side.

Cassie looked horrified. “Janie, don’t... I mean... I’ll be right back.” She turned and walked stiffly through the kitchen doors while I laughed lowly.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” I looked to the woman. “She’ll just be asking Peter if it’s true.”

The woman smiled back, turning so that she faced me, her eyes trailed over me and back again, “I’m sure she is. I’m her sister. Jane.” She lifted her hand at me, expecting me to take it. I did, with a raised eyebrow.

“Amelia.” She smiled at me, settling in her seat with a wriggle. I felt my shoulders push back, as I stood taller. “If you’ll excuse me...”

She blinked at me slowly. “Oh, of course! You were leaving.” It was hard to stop myself from rolling my eyes, but I just smiled at her.

“Yes. It was nice to meet you.” I started to turn, ready to walk out, when her hand was suddenly in the crook of my elbow.

“It really was nice to meet you.” I stared at her and her hand alternately.

“Yes. Could you remove your hand, please?”

“Oh!” her hand slid away and covered her parted lips. I could see the black gaps between her silver polish “I’m so sorry.”

I moved my hand to my shoulder. My bag strap was rough; I pulled it closer to my neck and held it there. I wanted to compact myself from her. The warmth of her hand imprinted on my arm, and the space refused to cool. She stared at me, eyes wide and apologetic, but I looked away and started to walk out. She started behind me.

“Please.” I stopped. “I didn’t mean...”

“That was really awkward.” I didn’t turn around, but let my head incline slightly. “You should control your impulses a little better, Jane.”

I heard her step back, and the creak of her stool. With a nod, I walked out into the breeze; lavender blooms struck my hair my back hunched in defence. My car was a few metres down the street and the small flowers covered the bonnet.

The flowers tickled down the curve of the bonnet, though some stuck near the windshield. With a sigh, I got in the car and locked the door. As I stared out at the purple haze, a small noise of disgust threatened my throat, and I let my head stop to the steering wheel. It hurt.
Last edited by PenguinAttack on Mon Oct 20, 2008 2:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
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With a sigh, I stood With a sigh, I stood and carried my empty lunch-ware to the front.

I'm reading double :wink:

Hmm... very well done. I could just see Cassie's face when she heard Mella was the co-owner. Serves her right ^^
But what does Mella do for the business exactly? Peter does a lot of kitchen/managing work, obviously, but I don't understand Mella's role. And if she's a co-owner, you would think her role to be vital. She's treated more as an honored guest with friends behind the counter and the back-stage pass then a boss.

And Jane is creepy. Does bad personalities run in the family? :P
But I'm really enjoying this. I'm kinda disappointed I can't keep reading.
So hurry up and write!
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I don't have enough suggestions for this chapter to do a line by line so I'll just quote sections:

A woman in a red coat burst through the [s]cafe[/s] café door, panting slightly as she closed it against the wind.


The smells and noise assaulted me immediately. They were brilliant as a slippery clash; the heat and steam of cooking fit well with the clatter of equipment. Above it all rose Peter’s voice as he gestured at Rob. They were both grinning while keeping an eye on the dishes and saucepans on either side. Leaving my used things on the metal bench that ran around the room, I twisted between the other cooks, smiling greetings and tasting as I went.
[Is she still carrying her tray? I think it can safely be assumed she's put it down or had it taken off of her by now but a brief mention of that would be good.]

Bobby, baby, she’d say, it’s not chincha, it’s kitchen. Say it for me? Kit-chen. Rob would smile up at her with that sudden brilliance that transformed him from average to amazing, and say sure mum! She’d smile back at him, giving me a worried, if apologetic glance, even then, I’m glad, baby. You’re a big boy, big words for big boys, hey? He’d nod with the seriousness of a seven year old and bounce his way past her into the kitchen. Ca-mon mum! Let’s cook biscuits! She’d laugh call back in a second, Bobby, just a second.

She looked at me, once. When we were older, twelve or so, she looked at me with that sad seriousness Bobby’s okay, right? At school? I could tell, she knew about the bullying. Or maybe she'd just guessed it, from the way he was. Yeah, Missus K, he’s okay. She nibbled her lip and glanced behind her, where Rob was flipping through recipe books. He’s not... getting into strife? She looked so worried, it cut me to see it. Nah, Missus K, no one’s causing him strife. Got an eye on Rob, honest. She cheered a little, managing a smile. Ca-mon, Mells! Into the chincha with you! She cringed, hearing him, and that sadness crept back.
[I think this flash back could have been done in full detail, with speech in speech marks and such. Only some of the sentences seem scrambled together with speech and it's a little hard to follow.]

The flowers tickled down the curve of the bonnet, though some stuck near the wind-shield. With a sigh, I got in the car and locked the door. As I stared out at the purple haze, a small noise of disgust threatened my throat, and I let my head stop to the steering wheel. It hurt.


[Excellent work, there's no drop in quality and I find myself intrigued by the actions of Jane. She seems to be quite cool and under control at the beginning and then suddenly almost... needy? And Mella's reaction is a brilliant piece of characterization. Just when I think I have her sussed, you throw in another view of her nature that gets me to wondering again.

My only real complaint is that lash back. I think it could have been done with much more care and I'm not completely sure it adds much to the story. It does tell us a little of Rob but I think that near enough the same could be achieved with an awkward moment's silence and the descent into one of his moods to some extent. In other words, I think you could cut it and have the same impression more or less be given without even having to add more than a short sentence or so. If Rob is to become more important, dribble his story to us later. Not now while we're hungering for details of Mella.

No other criticism or complaint though, you're doing a find job my lovely.

Heather xx]
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