Serious Sweet by A. L. Kennedy

Serious Sweet by A. L. Kennedy

Author:A. L. Kennedy [Kennedy, A. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503936515
Publisher: Little A
Published: 2016-10-18T04:00:00+00:00


A woman sits in a café on a not-unpleasant day. There may be rain later, but it’s gentle now and quite mild for October. She sits by the window reading and sipping a coffee. She is in her forties, and although she seems healthy, there is something slightly gaunt about her. She is carefully dressed: neat black shoes with a moderate heel, business suit in dark-gray cloth with a pale-blue stripe, pale-blue blouse. Everything is of quite good quality but is a touch large for her, a touch out-of-date. It might be that she hasn’t worn this ensemble in a while, took it for granted, and then discovered, too late to do better, that it wasn’t exactly suitable, or as she’d wished.

Perhaps it’s this cause for regret that lends her a noticeable tension. The woman might, equally, be expecting company. That said, she has left a black raincoat of traditional design folded over the chair opposite and has a book with her—no one appears to be on the way.

There are two waiters on duty—one behind the counter and one with a roving commission—and both of them seem to know the woman in the sense of recognizing a regular customer. They do not resent that she has ordered just this small coffee, has ignored the generous towers of brownies, heaped scones, the possibilities of hot dishes. They don’t mind that she seems in no hurry to leave.

Then again, it’s not busy now. The square outside is quiet, the afternoon is lengthening, even dimming. The day is coming to an end. The place will close soon, as it doesn’t cater to the after-work crowd, leaving that to the pub over the way, to the restaurants dotted round. There would be no absolute harm in the woman staying put until that happens.

She looks at her watch and orders another cappuccino in a voice that is soft, maybe distracted, maybe involved with the book she reads and then does not read, instead glancing out through the window at nothing much. It may be an uninvolving book.

All of these actions on her part have a kind of weight, a significance, simply because she is the café’s only customer and therefore a focus of attention.

There is nothing significant in her lifting the new coffee to her lips, then deciding against it, standing, paying the waiter without getting change, and walking outside.

Her expression, though, as she opens the door—her expression reflected in the glass panel that lets her see the wet autumn pavement opposite—her expression is one of such certainty and content. She seems to be more than she was. It is remarkable to her.



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