From Jamie Burchell’s Facebook page:
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Stocktaking this evening with Pumla Maseko. Officially my least favourite job in the world. Times like this, I wish I weren’t a grown-up and didn’t have to care how many bottles of red passata sauce we own, and whether our loss-and-breakages inventory record ties up with the actual number of wineglasses we have in the cupboard. (Hint – it never does.) And what’s the deal with teaspoons? Do they go to the same secret hiding place as socks?

Clinton Smith OMG, I used to work in restaurants. The way people just help themselves to serviettes and salt shakers! This one woman once loaded her handbag so full that the strap snapped on the way out and all these ashtrays came bouncing out.

Zanele Motsoepeng LOL @ Clint! When I used to work as a waitress, my granny made me steal her packs of butter and sugar every night. One night I brought her home Flora and she was, like, “No, Zanele, I want real butter.” That was three years ago and she still brings out the little packets of sugar whenever we visit. 🙂

Jamie Burchell Next time your granny comes to Delucia’s I am totally frisking her on the way out! 😉

Ella Burchell How’s it going with you and Hot Neighbour? Are you seeing him tonight?

Jamie Burchell Depends how long this takes. Pumla and I will probably grab something to eat here. There’s nothing like stocktaking to sap your strength.

Amanda Stanislau Speaking of Hot Neighbour Guy. When is he ever going to join Facebook so we can get to know him?

Jamie Burchell Never. He doesn’t really approve of social media.

From Pumla Maseko’s Facebook page:
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This is cruelty to pregnant women. Stocktaking night. I’ve already been on my feet all day. I think Jamie Burchell should take pity on me and let me go home now. This can’t be good for the babies.

Jamie Burchell Whine, whine, whine! I asked if you would trust anyone else to do the stocktake with me and you said NO!

Dumisani Keorepetse Don’t go climbing on any chairs or stepladders, see? That really would be bad for the babies. Not to mention for you.

Pumla Maseko Don’t worry, daddy. I’ve got this.

Dumisani Keorepetse We’re not going to call each other “mommy” and “daddy” after the babies are born, are we? I have friends who do that and it makes me a little nauseous.

Pumla Maseko After the babies come, you’ll be too busy with your sidechick to worry about me and the kids.

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Jamie recorded the number of dinner forks on her tablet computer and immediately backed up. The thought of somehow losing the spreadsheet and having to start this process all over again was too hideous to contemplate.

“We need to order more dishwasher salt,” Pumla called from the scullery.

“I thought we were going to start using that all-in-one dishwashing powder that comes with the rinse aid and salt already added,” Jamie shouted back.

“We did, but I didn’t like what it was doing to the glasses. They were coming out all streaky. So we went back to the old way.”

Jamie swiped to the New Orders screen and added dishwasher salt. “Listen, I’m going to the front to count linens. Don’t climb on any chairs while I’m gone. If you need something, you call me to come and get it for you, okay? I don’t want Dumisani coming after me with a horsewhip.”

Pumla made a grunting noise that may or may not have signified assent.

Jamie went through to the restaurant and knelt in front of the linen cupboard. It always amazed her how much stuff they had in there. White tablecloths, green overlays for summer, purple overlays for winter, green and purple striped napkins. Millions of dishcloths – many of which were so holey they should be retired. Aprons – both the smart kind for front-of-house work, and the more scruffy kind for kitchen work. Lint-free cloths for wiping glasses. General cloths for mopping spills and wiping up blood, both of which happened more frequently than people thought.

She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, yawning.

It was a lovely, quiet evening. In the wash of light from the other shops, Jamie saw the shift manager from the Spar roll down the metal blind over the double doors and lock up. He waved as he walked past, and she waved back. Then the freelance security guard who looked after cars in the little parking lot waved to Jamie too, indicating that he was knocking off for the day.

It was only ten past seven, but already almost dark. While it might still feel like high summer, Jamie knew the sun was in retreat, heading to the northern hemisphere to herald spring over there. But that didn’t stop it from being a warm, close, late-February evening. Rather than run the aircon, Jamie and Pumla had the front door wide open and a window in the kitchen open too, to create a through-draft.

They were perfectly safe, Jamie reminded herself. The security gate was firmly locked, and all the windows had steel bars on them. Not to mention the panic buttons under the counter by the till and above the worktop in the kitchen. Those rang straight through to the private security company.

Jamie gazed across the road to where the Earl & Badger was clearly hopping, its parking lot comfortingly full. It was live-music night and she could hear faint strains of whatever easy-listening band the Nikolaides brothers had hired for the evening. Perhaps she should drop in there for a drink after stocktaking. She would talk to Pumla into it.