Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 49

‘Hey!’ said Polly, delighted to see him. ‘How are you?’
‘I am fantastic,’ said Reuben. ‘Cheerfully triumphing over minor setbacks!’
‘I see that,’ said Polly. She glanced out onto the street. ‘How did you get here?’
He grimaced slightly at that.
‘Can you believe they took my Segway? How am I meant to get around now?’
He waved his hand at a member of staff who was peering at his phone.
‘Flat white.’
‘Um,’ said Polly, as the waiter carried right on looking at his phone. ‘He doesn’t work for you.’
‘He does right now,’ said Reuben. ‘Whilst I’m sitting in his coffee shop.’
‘Yes, but he won’t see it like that,’ said Polly. ‘You have to say please.’
‘Why do I have to say please? I’m giving him money for it. And if he was actually getting it for me, I’d be giving him extra money for that too.’
Reuben said this loudly – he said everything loudly – which appeared to have the required effect, as the bearded waiter pushed himself off the counter slowly.
Reuben took his flat white with some satisfaction, but without saying thank you.
‘So you don’t mind being semi-retired?’ said Polly.
Reuben shook his head.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘I’m working more than ever. And I’m finally getting enough sex.’
The rest of the coffee shop pretended not to be earwigging. This wasn’t very much like a business meeting, thought Polly. And also: how could Reuben and Kerensa possibly be having more sex? Then she thought about how much she missed Huckle, and blushed.
‘Anyway,’ she said. She showed him the van she’d found on the Internet.
‘Oh yes,’ said Reuben. ‘I like it.’
‘So what do I do?’ said Polly. ‘I mean, how do I put this kind of thing together?’
Reuben turned her laptop towards him.
‘What is this computer? How old is this? It’s rubbish. How can you even carry it around with you? Mine is made out of NASA titanium. It weighs four ounces.’
‘I don’t know what that is,’ said Polly patiently.
‘You can spin it on one finger,’ said Reuben. ‘This is a terrible computer. I want to buy you a new one.’
‘Didn’t your computer get taken away?’ said Polly.
‘Hmm,’ grumbled Reuben.
He started a new spreadsheet. He typed unbelievably quickly.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Business plan 101.’
‘What’s 101?’
Reuben looked at her and grinned.
‘Stop looking so nervous, kid.’
Polly glanced at the picture of the van again.
‘I have run a business,’ she said. ‘I do know a bit. It’s just… So many things seem to fail. Everything seems to fall apart.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Reuben. ‘Of course they do. That’s how it works.’
He smiled at her encouragingly.
‘Do you know how many failed start-ups I ran before we hit it big?’
Polly shook her head and shrugged.
‘Nine! Nine of the fuckers. But I didn’t care, because I knew I could make it. Then I did make it. Then it all went to shit again.’
He raised his spoon and his voice.
‘But you carry on! You get it back! All you have to believe is that you are awesome.’
‘I’m kind of average,’ said Polly, tentatively.
‘You live in a freaking lighthouse! You. Are. AWESOME!’ said Reuben. ‘Not as awesome as me, since you never owned a helicopter. But apart from that…’
Polly looked at him.
‘Say it!’
‘I’m not going to say it! I’m British!’
‘SAY IT!’ Reuben turned round to the waiter, who was now leaning against the wall. ‘You say it too; get yourself out of this coffee shop and into doing whatever it is you and your beard really want to do for a job.’
The nonchalant waiter perked up suddenly.
‘I want to be a film editor, man.’
‘Awesome,’ said Reuben. ‘That’s an awesome thing to want to be. Go do it!’
‘Reuben!’ said Polly. ‘This isn’t The Wolf of Wall Street.’
‘Everything is,’ said Reuben, who thought that film was both the best film ever made, and completely aspirational.
‘Do you want this or not? Do you want to succeed or not? Do you want your life to get better or not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then say it.’
Polly sighed.
‘SAY IT!’
‘I am awesome,’ she said, quietly.
‘Louder,’ said Reuben.
‘I am awesome,’ she said at a normal volume.
‘LOUDER!’
‘I. AM. AWESOME!’ screamed the bearded waiter suddenly. Then he tore off his apron, threw it on the floor and marched out the door.
Reuben and Polly watched him go in surprise.
‘Aha, free drinks,’ said Reuben. ‘Awesome.’
They stayed in the café, heads together, for two hours, and hammered out the basics and structure of a solid yet flexible business plan.
Polly had learned a lot from running the graphic design business with her ex, even if it had ultimately failed. She had also picked up plenty from watching Gillian Manse deal with the books – she had been very efficient; too efficient, in fact. The old bakery had managed to cling on by virtue of good solid money management far longer than it ought to have done. Polly wondered if an earlier retirement might have led to a happier, longer life for Mrs Manse.
But she wasn’t distracted for long: she was soon pulled back into the world of profit and loss accounts and offset capital expenditure. This was as close as she had ever seen Reuben to working. He was completely and utterly engrossed, and his fierce concentration didn’t let up for a second. For the first time she could absolutely see why this short geek had taken over the world, and why you wouldn’t ever bet against him doing exactly the same again one day.
‘Do this,’ he said. ‘Use Huckle’s money; the bank can’t help you, although you can open a small business account, which lets you bank free for six months. Make sure you get that.’