“Ten minutes up the road. There’s another bus stop right outside the gaff, so you can sod off home anytime you like.”
Jamie climbed into the van. “That’s not why I was asking.”
“So? At least you know, eh?”
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Billy gunned the van’s engine and backed out of the parking space. He turned onto the main road before he looked at Jamie again. “I’m taking you to the local meal distribution centre.”
“The what?”
“Think Meals on Wheels,” Billy said. “But it’s not just for old folk. It’s a community kitchen that sends out hot food to people who can’t, for whatever reason, get it together enough to cook for themselves. It’s got a food-bank vibe going on too, but the main focus is cooking the food.”
Jamie had a strong inkling of where this was heading, but he asked anyway. “What’s that got to do with me?”
Billy treated him to a withering glance. “They need a cook, you can cook. You need a job, they’ve got one going. Ain’t rocket science, is it?”
Jamie supposed not. He turned his face to the window and watched Derby city centre fly by until Billy pulled into another nondescript car park. Then Jamie slithered out of the van and came around the bonnet to face Billy. “What’s the food bank to you?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you’re getting allBillyabout it.”
“You haven’t known me long enough to know what that is.”
“Uh-huh.” Billy could say what he liked, but Jamie saw the subtle fire in his eyes. It reminded him of Marc, but then, everything seemed to do that at the moment.
“You little shit,” Billy admonished quietly. “You’re a perceptive fucker.”
“Am I?”
“I’d say so. I opened this place ten years after I got clean. I’d been inside for burglary, and while I was gone, me old ma starved to death in her bungalow because there was no one else to check on her. My kids were too young back then, and they were in care anyway. I ain’t never forgiven myself for it, and I won’t, but I can do my bit to make sure no one else goes hungry, eh?”
Billy let his confession loose in one breath and then got out of the van, striding away towards a utilitarian building in front of them. Jamie trailed after him with a heart that was equal parts heavy and inspired. What Billy had lived through to get this far should’ve broken him, but he was a fucking hero.Just like Marc.
Jamie followed Billy through a set of fire doors and straight into the inner sanctum of a working kitchen. It was nothing like Sea Rave’s sleek operation, and it reminded Jamie of the kitchen at his old primary school, but he felt oddly and instantly at home, even before Billy dragged him forward to introduce him to the woman in charge.
“Jamie’s a bit of a cook,” Billy said. “Think you could use him?”
Sheila, who seemed every bit the stern dinner lady who suited Jamie’s first impression of the kitchen, looked him up and down. “What you been doing with all the dinners you’ve cooked? Because you haven’t been eating them. Thin as a rake, aren’t ya?”
Jamie scowled. “I can see why you and Billy get on.”
Sheila’s uproarious laugh filled the room before she nodded at Billy. “I like him.” Turning back to Jamie, she said, “I’ve got two positions going: one for a part-time driver, and another full-timer in here with me.”
“What does that involve... the second one, I mean,” Jamie asked tentatively.
“Training to take over from Sheila,” Billy said. “She’s retiring soon.”
“Am I balls.” Sheila cuffed Billy’s head. “But I could use a hand cooking up the big pots and packing the meals. There’s a couple of girls who come in and do the sandwiches during the week, but the fella who helps me is leaving at the end of the month, and I can’t manage it all on my own.”
Her explanation didn’t leave Jamie much the wiser, but another glance around the kitchen revealed the sandwich girls in one corner and a middle-aged man who looked like Gandalf washing dishes in the other. Two gas-burning stoves held a couple of large steaming pots, and a huge pile of potatoes filled a nearby prep counter. “What are you making today?”
“Beef stew and dumplings. Mash. Vegetable fricassee. We’ve got a hundred and eighty meals to send out, mainly on the next estate over, but some across the way too. If you’re interested, why don’t you hang around today and give it a try? The pay is rubbish, but we’re a good lot. You’ll like it, I’m sure.”
“Um. Okay.” It wasn’t like Jamie had anything better to do. Billy agreed to come and get him later on, and Jamie rolled up his sleeves and got stuck in.
The traditional school-dinner-style menu wasn’t something he’d cooked before, and it didn’t take long to figure that Sheila’s method of cooking was very much “chuck it in the pot and stir,” but Jamie got a kick out of that, and the familiar rhythm of a working kitchen was a balm to his scratchy brain. He peeled, chopped, fried, and stewed, and once everything was ready, moved to the packing area to help Sheila seal the plastic meal trays. “This really is like Meals on Wheels, isn’t it?”