Kathy's Kelter

Chapter Three- Pasties and Persistence

Pison eu wasps drifted over the crowds of tourists in the town of Kingsbridge. The fact that South American insects somehow made their way into an English town is beside the point; why was there so many tourists? Kathy could tell apart the trippers from locals because of their wacky hats and typically pretentious outfits, though she didn't understand why there was a myriad of them, especially at this time of the year.

She scanned the lightening skyline, endeavouring to understand the rationale. It took a few moments, but she could just about make out the shape of her favourite cafe, Ol' Jimbob's Mocha & Molasses.

It was customarily rather recondite; what brings so many people to it? Better adverting?

Still physically and emotionally exhausted, in spite of her nap, Kathy felt impelled to eat. Specifically, she had a craving for a good ol' Cornish Pastie. Perhaps taking a visit to her virtuous friend Jimbob would help her out? Discovering your husband's corpse and having to discard it is taxing on anyone, let alone a floundering student. She resolved to treat herself.

Slipping on her orange Crocs, Kathy vacated from her house. The items which covered her feet were far from elysian, though Kathy didn't care much for fashion. She saw no point in equipping herself with 'stylish' items while she's actively getting blisters due to the unrealistic design.

Pushing her way through the throng, Kathy was amazed that no one mistook her for an infirmed, feeble woman, desperately in need of a doctor. Her complexion may as well have been caterwauling it.

Ol' Jimbob's was not far from her house, so Kathy wasn't necessitated to walk a distance longer than which she was capable. She craned her neck, perusing the no longer rickety display sign. The walls appeared to be glazed with a fresh coat of crimson paint.

This was unlike the style of Jimbob; had the place been refurbished by someone else? A partnership?

Kathy entered the cafe. Bustling with life, it was arduous to hear the recurrent jazz & Bossa Nova music which normally maintains the peaceful aura. The place was littered with seating and tables, arranged in a crescent shape, with the counter in the narrow gap at the acme. Kathy construed the menu, and settled on a Cornish Pastie and a coffee. Caffeine always helped her to remain vigilant, despite the health issues it can bring.

Upon hearing the cashier offer her thanks to Kathy, Ol' Jimbob came lumbering to the counter. His appearance was outstanding. His shaved head was more neat than usual, and Jimbob had lost a noticeable amount of weight.

"Kathy, me love!"

She smiled weakly at the animated greeting. "Hey, Jimbob. How's life treating you?"

"Honestly? I'm 'appy as a pig in muck. My business is really starting to get on it's feet, y'know? How about you? You look a little... down. Pregnancy hard on ya?" he answered, with lager-ridden breath. He must've noticed her delirium.

She was unsure of how to respond, so she gestured Jimbob to an aluminium, circular table. Sitting opposite him, Kathy explained everything. The stress of A Levels, the stress of pregnancy. She apprised him of Cula, and how she's falling apart. The recount of events was much too poignant for Kathy, and she plunged into sobbing once more.

"I'm devoed. No wonder you're bawling - that's terrible! Cula's just.. gone like that?" He looked at the floor. "I can't imagine the stress of being pregnant and dealing with all the rest of this. Ah lass, it's a nightmare. I'm more than happy to help whenever ye need me, just give me a ring.'

This was an inauspicious beginning to what Kathy was hoping to be a fairly conventional conversation, so she changed the subject.

"So, what exactly happened to this place? I have to say, I prefer the old design. It's somewhat rebarbative now." Jimbob's eyes filled with glee.

"I was approached by Ergo Institute - sounds fancy, but they're just a company that's going downhill.

They're trying to build their reputation back up again, and they're hiring.

I was offered a second job, working as a tech producer, on the agreement that they would do up my cafe to look more pleasant, instead of doing all that mither myself. Hard offer to refuse."

Kathy was proud of him. Hitherto, he was very lacking in the diplomacy area, but he appeared to have polished up on that.

"Y'know, you should really think about gettin' a pet. Like a cat or something. I heard kids love 'em, and helps with the loneliness too," offered Jimbob.

It was a thought that Kathy had never considered. Would she be able to handle a pet on top of all her current tension? She doubted it. "A pet? I'm not really that kind of person, but thanks for the thought." She was partly lying; Kathy adored animals, but she couldn't think of an appropriate way to tell him without him insisting more acutely.

Looking down at the morsels of Cornish Pastie teetering on her plate, Kathy realised she needed to go. She had homework to complete. Thanking Jimbob for the comfort, she rose to her feet, and left with swiftly growing apace.

Kathy brushed through the holidaymakers in the doorway, and ushered herself out into the street.

As she did so, Kathy glanced back at Ol' Jimbob's Mocha & Molasses. She couldn't deny the fact that it looked refined. Even the windows, which were crisply pellucid. Kathy didn't seem to be the only one who shared her fondness for the windows; she noticed a woman with champagne blonde hair and coruscating red shoes closing in on the left-most window. Why did she have a rock in her hand? People in Kathy's generation were outré, to say the least. The closer she got, the closer Kathy got to realising that the woman was not admiring the window. She was, more truly, twisting her arm back, and aiming the rock. She was a vandal.

Kathy stood, ten feet away, and gaped in perturbation as the woman cast the stone into the glass window. Her reflection shattered, and Kathy was occluded with fury.