A group of women pours into a café. They make for their usual table and sit at their usual seats, a whirl of bags and coats, marking their territory. Within seconds, there is a fierce hum of conversation.
A waiter bustles up to them, young, hair slicked back. He has to clear his throat several times to break through the wall of words. The women look startled. The waiter begins to hand them menus, but Teresa held up a hand. ‘No need to worry yourself about that,’ she says, ‘We know what we want.’
The women place coffee orders. Visions of scones oozing cream and jam dance through Mary’s mind. ‘Can I tempt you into some cake?’ says the waiter, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Go on, be good to yourselves.’ ‘Ah, no, you’re grand,’ says Teresa. ‘I think I’m good enough to myself already.’ Laughs from the other women.
The drinks arrive. Herbal tea, regular tea, black coffee. Mary has managed to resist the urge to order a cappuccino. Perched on the edge of each cup is a coffee biscuit. The biscuits remain in their packaging while the women talk. Mary sees them winking at her The conversational current carries Mary along, but in a corner of her brain, a food channel flickers, showing images of cakes, of a dirty, lardy fry. And the coffee biscuits keep calling to her, glowing brighter and brighter.
After the Coffee
At last, the women’s watches jolt them back to reality, and they begin the slow gathering of bags, of coats, of thoughts. ‘Oh, look, we never ate the coffee biscuits,’ says Teresa. ‘I’ll take those,’ says Mary. The women stare at her. ‘For the grandchildren,’ she says. ‘They’re coming home later.’ The women smile and hand the biscuits to Mary, who puts them in the front compartment of her handbag.
In the car, Mary opens the compartment, takes out the biscuits and lays them on her lap. Four of them. She rips off the packaging and puts them into her mouth all at once, layering them on the tip of her tongue like communion wafers. She lets them melt on her tongue, in an ecstasy of sugar and butter. When she is finished, she brushes the crumbs off her lap. Then she drives away, a smile on her face.