Be bold

I LOVED my flat. Think simple smooth lines, a small palette of subtle colours and nothing unnecessary.

Minimalism, the designers call it.

It’s not to everyone’s taste, but I loved it.

And that particular spring morning I was especially reluctant to leave its calm tranquillity to go to work, which for the past year had been at a nearby café.

Previously I’d been with a big company in the sales department.

It was one of those set-ups where you’re given very demanding targets to meet.

Then, as you’re congratulating yourself in succeeding in meeting them, they’d give you new, even more impossible ones.

It was relentless, honestly, and was affecting my mental health.

So when one day I saw an advert in the café’s window for an assistant, I applied.

It wasn’t what I was trained for and I wasn’t necessarily intending to stay for long.

But it was handy for the flat and I enjoyed it, and so weeks turned to months.

The proprietor was a woman called Carly, about my mum’s age.

There were normally just the two of us, though her family members would step in if needed.

Generally, we managed perfectly on our own.

It wasn’t a big place and we didn’t do anything complicated.

Tea, coffee, cakes, soup and things on toast.

Our customers were mostly retired people, young mothers and work-from-homers on their lunch breaks.

And most of them came most days.

You see places advertising themselves as community cafés, but this had the potential to really be one, and I did my best to encourage that.

I felt I was succeeding.

But then Carly’s husband, John, who she’d met relatively late in life, got a big promotion at work that involved them relocating.

I was all set to look round for something else, imagining that she’d be thinking of selling the café.

But no.

“Barrington said he’s happy to play a more active role,” she explained.

“Barrington?” I repeated.

It was the first time I’d ever heard of him.

“My older brother,” she explained. “He helped me with the finance when I started up and we formed a partnership, with him being just a sleeping partner.”

“But now he wants to be more involved?” I asked.

“That’s it,” she said. “He’s taken early retirement but is finding nothing to do.”

“He’d like you to stay, Ella,” Carly continued. “I would, too. You know all the customers and wou