13The Cafe
"Hi Oliver," Pamela said as she sat down at the table.
"Hi..." he replied, but his gaze was focused on Bella.
There was an awkward pause before Pamela added; "I brought a friend with me. I hope you don't mind. Oliver, this is Bella. Bella... Oliver."
Bella nodded coolly at him but he was all smiles and charm.
"So... what do you want?" he asked.
Pamela shrugged. "I think I'll have a cheese and onion pasty."
"Chips for me," Bella said.
"Coming right up." Oliver got up and went to order.
"Your friend is weird," Bella whispered to Pamela.
She smirked. "I think he's star struck by you."
"I doubt it. Have I got something on my face?"
"Yeah..."
"Really? What?"
"A nose."
Bella rolled her eyes and Pamela took the opportunity to look around the cafe. It wasn't very crowded but people were starting to pile in. It had a professional yet warm atmosphere, what with the thick, brown carpet and the cream blinds. There were about fifteen round tables in total. Three plasma screens hung on three of the walls and all were stationed on the BBC News channel.
"It's nice here," Bella commented.
"Hmm," Pamela agreed, drumming her fingers on the table.
After a while, Oliver came back with the food and they started to eat.
"Geez, what happened to your face?" he asked Pamela, referring to her bruised cheek.
She forced a convincing smile, trying not to wince. "Fell off my bed."
Bella glanced at her, but didn't say anything.
"That must have been some fall," Oliver said musingly, still staring at her.
Pamela shrugged and changed the subject. "Do you come here everyday and eat alone?"
"Nope. My mate will be here soon. He couldn't find any parking space."
"Guys and their cars," Bella muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Attached at the hip," Pamela agreed, grinning.
Oliver raised an eyebrow and was about to speak but his friend entered the cafe.
"Blake! Over here," Oliver signalled.
Blake was a tall, burly guy with brown eyes and black hair. He saw them and walked over, slipping his car keys into his pocket.
"You all right?" he greeted Oliver before nodding at the girls and slipping into a chair.
Pamela couldn't help but notice his arms. They were tanned and very toned.
"Do you want anything?" Oliver asked him.
"Yeah-"
"The counter's that way," Oliver interrupted, pointing at the queue.
Blake gave him a dirty look. "I'll pass, thanks." He then turned to survey Pamela and Bella, who were eating pretty much in silence.
"Is the food good?" he queried.
"Yeah," Bella replied. "It's better than college food anyway."
Blake grunted. "That's good to hear."
Oliver hid a smile.
Pamela's mobile rang then.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Pamela. It's me, Craig."
"Hey Craig. Did you get my text?"
"Yeah. Where are you then?"
"At a cafe on London road."
"Well, can I see you later?"
"Why?"
She was certain he was shrugging.
"No particular reason. Do I need a reason to see you?" he asked.
"No," Pamela laughed. "How about we meet up at the seaside?"
"Sure. What time?"
"Um... five?"
"Sounds good to me."
"Okay. Well, I'll see you later then."
"Sure. Bye," he replied and hung up.
Pamela slipped her phone in her bag before finishing off the food. Oliver had managed to gain Bella's attention and they were talking about the subjects they studied. Blake was scraping at an invisible stain on the table.
"So, do you go to college?" Pamela asked him, taking a sip of water.
"Me and college?" he guffawed. "No, full time education don't suit me."
"So what do you do then?"
He looked her in the eye before replying, "I'm a businessman."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he paused. "I own this cafe."
"You're joking?" Pamela gaped, impressed despite herself.
"Well, I own half of it," he corrected himself. "My Uncle's the other owner." He pointed to a man standing behind the counter, wearing a suit.
"Wow. That's amazing."
He shrugged modestly. "I had some savings, which I thought I could use. My Uncle didn't have a job. This place was up for sale. Everything was pretty convenient."
"But it probably didn't look like this, right? When you bought it, I mean."
"Hell no. It was actually three smalls rooms. We knocked the walls down ourselves. I had a few mates who were builders. We got the work done at a discount and boom, we were up and running."
"And you've got a good advertising means, too," Pamela pointed out.
He looked at her blankly.
"Oliver," she elaborated. "He's been going around telling everyone how great the food here is."
Blake grinned. "Couldn't have hired anyone better myself."
"Well, the food here is good," Pamela complimented him. "And I'll be telling everyone I know to check this place out."
"Thanks," he said, looking pleased.
They got up a while later to head back to college.
"I'll give you girls a lift," Blake said and strode out, car keys in hand.
"He doesn't leave much room for argument, does he?" Bella said to Oliver, who smiled but didn't say anything.
When Pamela got home, Mrs. Winters greeted her.
"How was your day?" she asked, helping Pamela take her jacket off.
"Fine, thanks."
"Could I have a word with you please?"
"Sure," Pamela said in surprise, following her into the living room. Mr. Winters was home early and greeted her with his familiar smile.
"We have some... news."
Pamela nodded to show she was listening. Were they chucking her out? Had they found out about last night? Did Jacob tell them? But why would he do that? Surely he knew she would spill the beans on him, if he did.
"Your Dad has been released," Mr. Winters said, leaning forward.
At first, their words didn't sink in. But when they did, Pamela sat down on the sofa, suddenly breathless.
"He's been... released? From jail?"
Mrs. Winters nodded. "They decided to send him for therapy instead."
"What?"
"Well, some of the psychiatric doctors thought that he was suffering from severe stress..."
Pamela said nothing. Severe stress?
"... It's a severe mental disorder," Mr. Winters was saying. "And he's been getting panic attacks and the like."
Panic attacks? That didn't sound like her Dad.
"The authorities contacted us, regarding you and your well being," Mrs. Winters added.
"What did they want?" Pamela asked her.
"They wanted to know if you're okay and happy. They're also giving you a choice."
"A choice?"
"You can live with your Dad if you wish to do so, or you can stay with us."
Pamela hesitated before saying honestly. "I'd rather stay with you, if you'll have me."
Mr. Winters nodded. "That's fine with us. But I think you should consider visiting your father."
When Pamela didn't say anything, he added, "He's not well at the moment. It might help him to see a familiar face."
Pamela nodded slowly. "I'll visit him. Where is he staying?"
"He's at the Royal Infirmary in London. We'll go with you this weekend, if you want."
"I'd like that."
"What happened to you?" Craig asked Pamela, gaping at her cheek.
"I fell off my bed," she replied, almost irritably. Why did everyone insist on starting a conversation with that question today?
"You fell off your bed?"
"Can we please talk about something else?"
"You're cranky today."
"Sorry," she sighed and started walking, her shoes slipping slightly in the sand.
They walked in silence for a while.
"Are you okay Pamela?"
"I'm fine." She looked at him then and forced a smile. "Thanks."
He half smiled back at her.
"It's just that... I've had a weird day."
"Why? What's happened?"
"Well, you know that my Dad was in jail right?"
"He... was?"
"Yeah. He got busted for smuggling drugs."
"So that's why you're so interested in Jacob Winters' activities?" Craig asked, realisation dawning in his eyes.
Pamela ignored the question, assuming it to be rhetorical. "Well, my Dad's been released."
"He's been released? When did he get convicted?"
"A couple of months ago."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't he be serving a few years?"
"Yeah, he should."
"Then why's he been released early?"
Pamela shrugged. "Apparently he's not well. He has a psychiatric disorder."
Craig raised his eyebrows. "Well, shouldn't you be happy that he's out? I mean, whatever he did... He's still your Dad."
"I am happy... for him. But living with him wasn't an ideal situation. He wasn't a great Dad."
"And you're scared you'll have to go back?"
Pamela shrugged. "The authorities gave me a choice. I can go back or I can stay here."
"And you are staying here, right?"
"Yeah." She sighed.
"And you will go and visit him, correct?"
"Yep."
"So why the glum face?"
Pamela shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I should go back to him. I mean, he probably needs looking after."
"But you don't want to go," he stated the obvious. "Why not?"
"I can't explain. Even though we lived under the same roof, I don't have a relationship with him." She didn't tell him that her father didn't even know anything about her. He never bothered to find out. He barely glanced at her when she was there and she treated him in the same manner.
"It's starting to get dark. Let's turn back?" Craig suggested after a moment.
Pamela nodded and they started to walk back along the path they had followed. The sky was filled with swirling colours of purple, blue, red and yellow. It looked almost as if someone had emptied all their paint pots at once and not mixed them completely so little globules of each colour still existed independently. The sea was as blue as ever though and hit the rocks, spraying white foam everywhere.
"So, will you tell me what really happened to your face now?" Craig asked her with a grin.
She hesitated before telling him about following Jacob.
"You... followed him?" he repeated, looking almost angry. "Alone?"
"Well, yeah."
"Are you crazy? That guy could have killed you!"
"Don't be silly Craig," she scoffed. "Why would he kill me?"
"Who do psychopaths do crazy things?"
Pamela rolled her eyes. "Please don't lecture me. I've already followed him, so I know where he disappears to and what he does."
Craig looked like he was going to say something, but she interrupted him, adding, "And I'm going to follow him again. Don't try to convince me not to because I've already made up my mind."