Sid's Teashop

Copyright (c) 2011-2014 Andrew McBurnie; All Rights Reserved

("Sid's Teashop" was first published as a free download at Smashwords)

 It was dark when Jimmy left his home, with a feeling of relief, looking forward to a break from Minnie and the kids. He pulled his collar up against the cold air, walked down the muddy street outside his apartment block and turned the corner, heading for his favourite evening haunt, Sid’s teashop in the night market.

The market sprawled between the highway and the railway line, its stalls bustling with hawkers and evening shoppers. Crossing the road, Jimmy skipped between lumbering vehicles, once or twice raising an imperious hand when he recognised a driver. But when a gleaming and oblivious limousine suddenly loomed at him, he was forced to jump out of its way, glaring with jealousy at the classy black vehicle from the safety of the footpath as it glided smoothly away.

In the market, Jimmy pushed through the crowds with an assurance that warned people to make way. Clamour surrounded him: the cries of merchants and the pleas of beggars, the racket of cheap radios and music players, the sharp smell of kerosene, the comforting smells of hot food and fat.

From within the teashops, idlers gazed out at the world.

Just outside the entrance to Sid’s, Jimmy paused and took out a handkerchief to flick dust away from his shoes, before he lowered his head, assumed a business-like, forceful looking expression, pushed aside a hanging flap and entered.

As usual, all his acquaintances were there.

Harry, the taxi driver, greeted him first. “Jimmy!” he called out in a gushing voice. “We were wondering when you would arrive!”

Sid nodded and smiled at Jimmy, while sweeping a tray of dirty plates and mugs into a basin, then pretending to cuff his young son as the boy squatted to rinse them.

“How’s business, Jimmy?” called out Dave, the carpenter who lived next door to Jimmy and his family.

“Fine, thanks,” Jimmy replied as he slid along the bench seat next to Dave, noting the carpenter’s faint odour of wood and varnish. “And how are you?”

Dave wobbled his head, and gave a flat smile.

Opposite them, and sitting next to Harry, sat Bob, the chemist. He said, “How’s Minnie?”

“She’s ok,” Jimmy replied.

A single kerosene lamp lit the teashop, hanging from a beam over Sid’s little counter. As the lamp swayed, the shadows of the customers rocked slowly against the rough wall behind them. The soft light enclosed them against the outside world, but was not so bright that it prevented them seeing the goings-on outside.

It was a pleasant, cosy place, and Jimmy felt relaxed, comfortable, and among admirers.

“The usual?” Sid asked Jimmy.

Jimmy nodded. “And a pie, too,” he added.

Sid’s young son served Jimmy, squeezing between the bench and the sagging wall, pushing against it with his back and reaching over to put Jimmy’s tea and pie down on the bench. Jimmy picked up the tea first, enjoying the warmth of the glass in his hands as he sipped the hot, spicy liquid.

“What’s new?” asked Harry the taxi driver.

“Nothing much,” said Jimmy, glancing across at him. “And you?”

Harry shrugged. “The car’s still going. I can’t complain.”

One by one, everyone in the teashop agreed that there was nothing much going on, no excitement, or anything dangerous happening.