Adam's Apple Pie

One - The Fall of Man

The baby's shrill cries pierced through the skulls of all nearby. One could only wonder how such a tiny thing could have such powerful lungs – no adult could shriek this loud outside of a metal band. Her cheeks were already starting to glisten, like a waterfall. What had brought on this little brat's cries – only Christ knew. All anyone wanted to know was, when would it shut the fuck up?

I could see other people in the cafe were starting to grunt and sigh, but still trying to be polite. Couldn't blame them to be honest, I felt their same annoyance. But it wasn't the baby's fault, she was just doing what babies did. I did feel sorry for her mums' (that's mums' plural), they looked just as annoyed as everyone else, but nothing they did would shut her up. I could tell they were married from the glint of a wedding ring from one of their fingers. One of them looked like an supermodel, with thin waistline and curled hair to boot. The other drew me in with her exotic looking eyes. I always had a thing for Asians. She looked somewhat familiar – but I couldn't put my mind on why.

Shame they were both lesbos, as many a man would fight for them the way they looked – and probably did at some point.

"Here's your latte, Adam."

With all the noise from the baby, I'd almost forgotten that Rachel was there. She handed me a cup from behind the café counter, giving me a freckled smile. "Cheers, duck," I said, mimicking a Stokie accent just to annoy her. She tied her orange hair back and let out a huge sigh as the baby let out another piercing scream.

"Oh, why won't that kid just bloody shut up?" she screeched, but not so loud that anyone else would hear here. "I'm starting to think pro-choicers have a point." She instantly looked at me. "It's a fucking joke!"

"Hey, I don't care," I shrugged. I took a sip of my latte so as to not burn my lip. Rachel's head darted from side to side like a meerkat seeking danger.

"Where the fuck is Ron?" she grumbled. "He should have been back ten minutes ago and I'm gasping for a puff."

"I'll look out for him on my rounds," I said, taking a slurp from my drink.

"Front desk to Duty Officer," said a crackled, deep voice.

I rolled my eyes into the back of my head, then held my radio to my mouth and pressed the button. "Go ahead."

"We've just been told that the downstairs toilets need attention," the radio crackled.

"Ok, I'm on it," I replied. "Rachel, can you keep this warm for me?"

"Sure thing, suge," Rachel replied. "And if you see Ron, tell him to get his arse in gear!"

"Will do."

Almost as if on cue, Ron returned, walking back behind the cafe counter without so much as a hint of an apology. "Where the fuck have you been, you lazy twat?" Rachel cursed. The rest of the argument was cut out by the baby's screaming. I didn't mind, I had to attend to the toilet. Knowing my luck, some overzealous granny probably blocked it with too much toilet paper – or some skivy put cocaine along the lines of the bowl; that was an interesting day to say the least.

Fortunately, it turned out not to be as bad as the report suggested. In case you're wondering, it was more in the overzealous granny category. Or overzealous granddad I guess. Or overzealous whatever people identify as these days (seriously, I struggle to keep up sometimes).

It was nearly time for me to do the footfall readings, so I went to the desk after sorting the toilet situation. Gavin was working the desk today, wearing those comically large glasses that reminded me of an eighties children entertainer (except without being a pedo – at least I didn't think Gavin was a pedo). I always had to hold my breath when I saw his hair, it reminded me of a cross between a jheri curl and a pom-pom. Seriously, how did he think this look was good for him?