The Waitress by Melissa Nathan Read Free Book Online

in. She naturally assumed that Sukie’s heavy shoulders, general air of dejection and unusual lethargy were due to the crapness of the day. It wasn’t until they were on their last two customers of the 7.14 train to Euston that Sukie told Katie, ‘You’re looking at the person behind the voice behind the Anusol advert.’
    ‘Wow!’
    ‘On Essex Radio.’
    ‘Wow!’
    ‘I just found out I got the job.’
    ‘Wow!’
    ‘As soon as I’ve spent my earnings, I’m going to kill myself.’
    ‘Oh.’
    Sukie spun round to face the customers. ‘Would you like sugar in that?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes,’ said the woman.
    She turned to get the sugar.
    ‘
No
!’ the woman cried suddenly.
    Sukie turned back to her.
    ‘Yes or no?’
    The woman hesitated. ‘I don’t know.’
    Sukie blinked.
    ‘What do you think?’ asked the woman.
    Sukie blinked again.
    ‘I think you deserve the sugar,’ said Katie quickly, as Sukie’s face registered exactly what she thought.
    ‘Yes,’ the woman turned to Katie. ‘I have been good all week.’
    ‘Well then,’ Katie went to pick up the sugar.
    ‘But I’m being weighed tomorrow,’ said the woman quickly. ‘It would be a shame to waste all the good work I’ve done this week.’
    ‘It would,’ said Katie.
    ‘Half,’ said the woman.
    Katie didn’t move. ‘Final answer?’
    The woman nodded firmly.
    ‘Final answer. Half a sugar.’
    Katie obliged. As the woman walked out of The Café with her black coffee and half a sugar, Katie said dully, ‘I know all the names of the shadow Cabinet.’
    Sukie nodded. ‘I’m the voice behind the Anusol advert on Essex Radio.’
    They stood there for a while watching the rain.
    Early Saturday afternoon, Katie threw her last bag into her car. She hadn’t intended to leave for her parents’ this late – it was now starting to get dark – but the temptation of having three whole car seats to fill with luggage had proved too much and her packing time had extended way beyond the usual, even though she was only going for one night . She’d also started packing much later than she’d planned because she’d completely overslept and then had needed a hot bath to get her body working properly. Forty minutes after getting into it, she’d woken up, chilled and wrinkly. She had a coffee and phoned her mum to tell her she might be late. The journey would be easy. Just a few motorways and she’d be home. She’d packed her CDs and was raring to go, boosted by the fact that the next time she hit London, she’d be on her way to her date with Dan.

4
    So far it had taken Katie four hours. Weekend traffic didn’t help the fact that she took the wrong turning off the motorway twice which resulted in a loss of confidence so complete that she missed the next two exits and had to double-back twice. By the time she got home she would need a valium and a shower.
    As would most of her family.
    Katie had a condition that was prevalent in her family, which the men dubbed Locational Dyslexia, the women A Crap Sense Of Direction. It didn’t much matter what it was called; the result was the same. She couldn’t direct herself out of a paper bag with an exit sign.
    And now she was having a nightmare roundabout experience. As she approached, she saw that none of the locations she had memorised were mentioned – even briefly – on this roundabout sign. She glanced in her mirror – cars were slowing down behind her and there was no time to stop. She didn’t have a chance to look and see if any of the names on the signpost were even in the same direction as home. Needles of sweat pricked her armpits and her heart quickened. Getting nearer to the roundabout , she moved across into the middle lane. Perhaps the signs painted on the roads would help her – but what if she was in the wrong lane? She watched all the other drivers already on the roundabout, envious of their apathetic expressions. Couldn’t she just plump for a car and follow it?
    A wide space