Connections Read Online Free Page B

of wine, and an elderly man came in and took what she assumed was his normal seat on a stool at the bar. “New here?” he asked.
    Fleur smiled and nodded, trying to memorise the bar prices.
    â€œYou’ll get used to me,” he told her. “Are you married?”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Fleur, “to a professional wrestler.”
    A man and woman came in with a small child and sat down. Though Fleur evaded their eyes they started looking at her expectantly.
    The elderly man told her helpfully, “The menus ought to be under the bar.”
    â€œThanks,” said Fleur. The family ordered and she left the bar for the kitchen. She put her head round the door and said, “Three burgers, two baked potatoes, one fries, one salad and where’s the red wine?”
    â€œIn a box on the stairs,” Al told her. “How do they want the burgers?”
    Fleur hadn’t asked. “All medium,” she told him firmly. She found the wine in the box on the stairs. There were only five bottles left. She raced back to the bar.
    â€œAll right,” said one of the men in business suits to the other. “You’ve twisted my arm – I’ll have a whisky.”
    Go home to your wives and families, Fleur silently urged them. The place was filling up.
    Geoff strolled in at eight fifteen, a quarter of an hour after Fleur had decided that if any more customers arrived, she’d go home. Only one bottle of red wine and two of white were left.
    Geoff nodded approvingly at Fleur and said, “Well done.” He opened the till.
    â€œI didn’t know how to work it,” Fleur said. “The money’s all under here. There’s hardly any wine.”
    â€œGot it in the boot outside,” he said. “It’s unlocked. Can you nip out and fetch it in? White Merc. You can see it from here. Do it now, or they’ll have me.”
    Swearing under her breath, as Geoff put the profits in the till and served some drinks, Fleur carried six boxes of wine into the bar.
    â€œCouple over there waiting for dessert,” Geoff pointed out. “Hold the fort while I move the car.” He was gone again.
    By the time he came back she’d taken the order for dessert and delivered it, dealt with a proposition and served the last bottles of white wine.
    Geoff showed her how the till worked and sat down heavily in front of the bar. His eyes were very red and his face pasty. Fleur wondered what he’d been up to during the last few hours. She also asked him if he’d pay her cash at the end of every shift. She wasn’t sure if, one way or another, the job would last even a week – it might collapse, or she might. Reluctantly, he agreed.
    Around ten Al emerged from the kitchen. “You’re on your own now,” he said to Fleur. He held his hand out to Geoff who handed him his pay from the till. “And the shopping,” Al said firmly. “Sixty-eight pounds nineteen.”
    Geoff produced the cash and Al said, “Cheers, Fleur. See you tomorrow?”
    Fleur found herself grinning. She said, “I can’t wait.”

Three
    Fleur was still mourning her lost life but, with the feeling she was at least ticking over in neutral, began to get used to her job. It was obvious that McCarthy’s was running on a cash-only basis. Each day the previous day’s takings, left overnight in the till, provided the money for the next day’s purchases and Fleur became accustomed to going to Tesco and coming back with huge carrier bags of food. Sometimes Al went with her if the load was expected to be exceptionally heavy. Each night Geoff brought along supplies for the bar in the boot of his car and Fleur was expected to unload. At least, she reflected, all this was keeping her fit and at least this time the cash flow where she worked was not her responsibility, though she knew what the probable outcome would be. Good, she thought – when the