The Shelf above the Stock

The brown wrapper caught behind a screw head in the shelf. Vera tugged once, saw the edge of the card bend and let go. She moved the stool closer to the cupboard. Anouk had meanwhile sent a message about a possible time at the foundation. Vera put her phone face down on a crate.

The two menus had to move first. They belonged to the previous owner: laminated cards with a photograph of an open sandwich topped with fried eggs that looked much bigger than hers. She had kept them because people still asked for them. She glanced at the prices and slid them onto the clear part of the shelf.

The wrapper came free without tearing. Its brown cord was half wound round it. One corner was creased; Anouk must have held it there when she pulled out the small folder. Vera laid it on an empty upturned crate, smoothed the flap open and checked all four corners.

There was nothing inside.

She thought of Milan saying there might have been an elephant in the kitchen before his shift. The wrapper had been flat when he put it away. It was no tidy solution; Anouk had already told her that. At least she could stop making it bigger in her head.

‘Vera?’ Yasmin called.

She stood the wrapper against the wall. ‘Yes?’

‘Someone’s here for that order.’

‘Which one?’

‘The one with the note.’

She went into the café. A woman stood at the counter with three bags and a boy’s coat over her arm. She laid a folded sheet on the wood. She had ordered four filled rolls to take away yesterday. Vera could see her own note on the copy pinned to the fridge. She had written down the time and forgotten to transfer the order to the preparation list.

‘How long will it be?’ the woman asked.

Vera looked at the clock. The woman was exactly on time.

‘A few minutes. I’ll make them straight away.’

‘There’s someone waiting in the car.’

‘I’m starting now.’

In the kitchen, Vera laid rolls on a board. Yasmin fetched the packaging. She did not ask why they weren’t ready. She read the note, checked the types of bread and exchanged the second bag for another.

‘One without cheese,’ she said.

‘I see it.’

Vera cut the first roll open. She had been about to pick it up with the hand she had just used to unfold the wrapper, and went to the sink after all. Yasmin set out the clean things. From the café came the woman’s voice, telling someone on the phone that she was still waiting.

When Vera handed over the rolls, she did not offer a free coffee. The woman had no time for one. She said the order should have been ready and told her the price. The woman paid, picked up her bags again and tucked the coat under her arm.

‘At the agreed time next time, please.’

‘Yes.’

After lunch, Yasmin went through to the back. Her break was later than they had intended. Milan took over for the short overlap between their shifts and pointed out the open cupboard door to Vera. Someone carrying a crate would walk into the stool.

‘I’m not finished yet,’ she said.

‘I’ll just move it out of the way, then.’

He put the stool against the wall. Vera went back to the wrapper and took the napkin box off the shelf. There was no hidden receipt underneath, only an old brochure from a supplier who no longer called. She fetched the business folder and went through the plastic sleeves one by one, this time without a customer at a table. Maintenance, a returned invoice, an appointment with the window cleaner. She put the papers where she would look for them next time, rather than filing them under today’s date.

She ought to look beyond that one Tuesday. There might be a note in the surrounding weeks which she had mistaken for something else. She read her short entries. Freezer. Flowers not ordered. Not the same white cups. She remembered more about the argument with the supplier over the cups than she did about the man with the folder.

The box on the floor of the stock cupboard contained empty glass jars, two towels and the spare clips for the outdoor signs. When she opened it, her first thought was that now she knew where to find those clips. She closed it. It was not a photographer’s box, but the syrup stain on the label might have told her that beforehand.

Her phone vibrated on the crate. Anouk asked whether this coming Tuesday would suit for the comparison. Sanne could set aside enough time then. Vera replied that she could come in the morning, provided she was back for Yasmin’s usual break. She added that she still wanted to visit Dorus to see the complete delivery receipt.

Anouk sent his number. Nothing more. Vera looked at the two lines for a while, tapped out her thanks and put the phone down again.

Milan came through the back with a full bin bag. He had to move the wrapper aside to get it through the door.

‘Keeping this?’

‘For Anouk. She still wants the cord.’

‘And the rest?’

‘That too, for now.’

He tied the bag shut. Vera had already put off asking once in her head. If she didn’t ask now, she would go on thinking Milan might offer of his own accord.

‘Could you cover a bit more tonight?’

He looked up. ‘No.’

‘Not the whole evening. Until nine, perhaps.’

‘I’ve got a class.’

‘Oh, yes.’

She knew that. Thursday evening was crossed out on his availability sheet. She had copied it herself for the rota.

‘And I’ve got things to do beforehand,’ he said. ‘It’s not just the hour I’m there.’

‘I asked you for four hours yesterday.’

‘And I did them.’

She heard the words as he heard them. As though one paid spell of cover automatically made another possible. She picked up the empty napkin box to have something in her hands.

‘I’m not suddenly giving you a whole extra shift.’

‘I know. But I do need to know whether I can leave when I’m meant to.’

‘You can leave.’

Milan nodded, took the bin bag out and came back empty-handed. Vera wanted to say that she sometimes worked more hours than the rota said, too. She did not know what he was supposed to say to that. He hadn’t asked for a comparison.

‘We’ll arrange a morning time for this coming Tuesday,’ she said.

‘For other days, you need to give me times. Then I can see.’

She wrote down the morning appointment. She wanted to agree a few possibilities for cover with him for later on. He wanted to see the hours for those as well, not just the day. She put the sheet in the rota folder instead of on top of the loose delivery notes.

Dorus answered her second call. By then Vera was standing at the kitchen door with the phone to her ear, where she could still see the counter. She introduced herself and mentioned the folder.

‘That arrived,’ he said.

‘I know. I signed for it.’

‘Then we’re all right there.’

‘I’d like to see what it says on the whole receipt. The picture Anouk sent isn’t complete.’

Something slid along a table at the other end. Dorus asked exactly what she meant by incomplete. She said the top was missing. He said he would look into it.

‘Could I come round tomorrow?’

‘I have to work.’

‘So do I. That’s why I’m calling to arrange a time.’

There was a brief silence. Not long enough to make anything of, but Vera held her breath until he answered. Tomorrow morning would do, he said. Not early. Ten o’clock.

She wrote down his address. He asked whether Anouk was coming. Vera said she would check with her, but she herself had taken delivery and wanted to ask about that.

‘The door’s at the side,’ he said. ‘Not the house door.’

He rang off. Vera saw that Milan had picked up his coat. Their overlap was ending. She raised a hand to let him know that was fine and went behind the counter.

The afternoon took time to get going. A single coffee first, then three people who all wanted something different, followed by a man with a lengthy explanation of why the toilet ought not to be locked. He hadn’t missed his train, but he was in a hurry to catch it. Vera gave him the key with the big wooden tag and told him where to go.

She fetched the bread for the last filled rolls from the kitchen. The new felt pads were still in her bag. At the empty table by the window she pulled a chair towards her and finally stuck a fresh pad under the foot where the old one had come loose. She did not stay to test whether it sounded better on the floor. Someone was waiting for his change.

Only towards evening could she finish with the wrapper. She slid it into a larger sleeve without folding the flap shut again. She added a note with Anouk’s name. Not in the lost-property box. On the shelf with the business folder, so she could fetch it herself.

Then she sent Anouk a photograph of the empty inside, asking whether she could keep it like that. No conclusions about boxes that had never arrived, just the wrapper they had discussed.

Anouk called back rather than typing.

‘You can flatten it, as far as I’m concerned. The cord really is all I want.’

‘I didn’t ask whether I could send you that photograph.’

‘Vera, it’s an empty wrapper.’

At the other end she heard something shut, then footsteps.

‘You don’t have to make it harder than it is. Have you found anything?’

‘Not the signed receipt. Really, just what we already knew. You collected the folder.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to Dorus tomorrow.’

Anouk said she could not come. She had a commission and wanted to keep it. She asked Vera to tell her what he showed her, and not to make any promises about the rest. The last part did not sound angry. It was a request she apparently felt she needed to make.

Vera said she understood. She did not mention the late rolls. There was no need. She would have to face that customer herself next time.

After hanging up, she checked the stock cupboard once more, this time only to see whether the door would close. The crate was straight. The stool was in its place. She had looked at everything she could in her own business without turning it into a whole second working week.

In the café someone tapped a teaspoon against his glass. Not impatiently, but loudly enough to call her over. She turned, straightened her apron and went to him.