Sunshine

Jimmi Patel left the house at an unaccustomed run. Not quite out of condition yet, he thought, but bloody near it. The metal gate clanged, creaked and kept swinging as he ran for the bus stop. The number 9 was just pulling away, taking hope with it.. Jimmi leaned against someone’s tag: Crusher, or Zap, some nonsense. He’d grown out of all that. He lit up: last Marlboro, lost chance. The smoke melded with his steamy breath; he shivered. There wouldn’t be another interview. Not for Art College, anyway. Mum would be pleased though. At this rate he'd be 30 before he left home. He tossed away half of his cigarette. Turning up his coat-collar, he turned for the Sunshine Café. Only sunshine he’d see today.

The bell clanged as he barged the door open. ‘Thought you were sick!’ was the Greek’s only greeting. Jimmi nodded as he made his way to the sinks. The steam rose in the kitchen area, bringing dubious smells. He regretted buying those trousers already.

Shit, thought Jimmi, as he heard the raucous voice ordering ‘a mug o’ tea an’ the full fry’. The Sunshine Breakfast. He hoped it wasn’t her. She would wait at the counter as the Greek knocked up her breakfast, not allowing him to cheat her of even a baked bean. How he cooked with her so close to the counter, Jimmi didn’t know. There was no harm in being ugly, he himself had aunts who could frighten elephants. But you could be clean. How can you look smelly, though? And the clothes, from Oxfam’s skip, not the shop, for sure.

Jimmi lifted a rack of chipped plates out of the steriliser. God that steam. He’d have to go out front to cool down soon. The Greek was good about that, at least. But that bloody woman was there.

‘Jimmi, get out here. Clean the corner table, fast.’ Even the Greek couldn’t stand her for long.

She was standing, holding her plate of still sizzling, bubbling food. Her appraising look at Jimmi marked him down as one of them. What was it to her, anyway? She shrank away as he leaned over the table. As if he would ever accidentally brush against her! He stepped back from the table. She sat down. ‘Should go home the lot of ‘em. Dirty foreigners!’, he heard as he headed back to the cleansing steam…