“You’re awfully quiet today.”

“Hmm?”

Abbey clicked her tongue and took the drink ticket out of Hannah’s outstretched hand, and Hannah swung her gaze to meet her friend’s, realizing that she had been caught staring. “You just seem distracted.”

“Sorry,” Hannah murmured, taking up a rag from the counter and cleaning off a pool of coffee grounds that had spit from the side of one of the large grinders. Her face flushed red, but she turned from Abbey so that she could conceal it in the task of cleaning off the back counter.

It was afternoon, and the cafe had been gloriously slow that day, allowing for lots of menial work around the counter and also allowing for the girls to read the books they’d brought from home when they had experienced the long stretches of downtime between customers. A few patrons remained in the hour before closing, milling about the bookshelves and lazing in the warmth of the feeble spring sun that had put in great effort to shine that day, even if it was sporadically hidden behind bouts of gray that swirled endlessly above the city.

But Hannah knew that Abbey was on to something, for she had been quite distracted ever since the man in the peacoat had entered the cafe an hour earlier. He had done everything almost exactly as he had before--stalked ruefully up to the register, made no attempt at conversation or eye contact, ordered a single cup of black tea--and Hannah had watched him fork over a ten pound note for the charge, and then dismiss himself from the counter without waiting for the change. He took his seat in the far corner by the window, his field notebook and pencil out in front of him, and he hadn’t said a single word to Hannah when she had delivered his mug and the remainder of his change--a whole nine and twenty pence--neatly to the corner of his table.

Since then, Hannah had watched him as imperviously as a hawk as he performed his usual antics of glaring out the window, breaking his gaze only to scribble furiously in his notebook before rapidly returning to his important work of scowling at the outside world. The tea on the table had gone from steaming to stagnant, remaining totally untouched, and Hannah felt as if that bothered her most of all about his little routine. He had done this three times since she had first seen him enter the cafe nearly a month ago, and each performance was the same--the rudeness, the coldness, the clear intention to ignore both her and the tea she brought him--and he always left the change when he went away at closing.

Strange, Bartrum had commented about the man; strange and possibly in a bad way.

Strange indeed, Hannah agreed silently as she focused all her attention on the grime of the counter before her, determined not to let Abbey see her embarrassment at being caught in the act of staring at the stranger. But in a bad way? It would seem he’s devoted to making sure everyone around him is in one, surely.

“Hey, I forgot to tell you, my parents loved the decor we made,” Abbey remarked from her place at the espresso machine behind Hannah. “They saw it holed up in the garage where we put it out of Midge’s reach. They’ve offered to buy her a cake from that really lovely bake shop down the way from here; you know the one?”

“Mrs. Folds?” Hannah asked, turning to see her friend beaming with a nod.

“Yes, that’s right. I inquired with her on my lunch break at the office yesterday--she promised she could make a really stunning frosting dragon.”

“That’s stupendous,” Hannah laughed aloud, the thought of Midge’s face at seeing a sugar-crafted fantasy on a cake delighting her. “This is going to be some party you’re holding. It’s this Saturday?”

“Noon at my hobbit hole,” Abbey grinned. “There’s eight little schoolmates of Midge’s coming along, and their parents too. I’m a bit nervous to be around so many adults for so long.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hannah leaned her back against the counter, brushing her hands on the front of her apron. Abbey turned too, and she shrugged, pouring hot milk foam over the mug holding the espresso she had finished making.

“At work, it’s easy to remember that I’m an adult, because no one questions me,” Abbey placed the mug on the far end of the counter and called out, “cappuccino for Winston!”

Once the aforementioned Winston came to the counter to claim his coffee, Hannah crossed her arms goodnaturedly and motioned for Abbey to continue on. “Well, you have to know what I mean--when I’m at work, I can show people that I am a hard worker, and a responsible lass. They can see that I mean business when I’ve got my hand to the plow.”

“But…not around Midge?”

Abbey’s face softened, “it’s just different around other parents. They seem to have it so together all the time. And there’s always two of them to handle their kids.” Her mouth quirked in what Hannah saw as a rather sad smile. “I can tend to feel a bit in over my head around real parents like that--like I’m just scrambling to keep up with Midgey.”

“Abbey,” Hannah said firmly, dropping her arms to her sides and shaking her head in disbelief. “You are a real parent. You’re the most extraordinary parent I’ve ever known. You do everything and more for Midge all on your own!”

Abbey flushed with the compliment, and she waved Hannah off, “it’s no use to compare…I know it. But I can’t help but see those parents and think that Midge feels like she’s missing out on something I can’t give her.”

“You’re breaking my heart with those thoughts,” Hannah reached forward and clapped her friend on the shoulders with her hands. “You are a mum. And a good one at that. If any of those parents ever make you feel less than that fact, then that is a mark on their character--not yours. Who else can work two jobs and still give their kid the world as you do?”

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Abbey tried to push Hannah away as she squeezed her shoulders. “It’s a problem I’ll most likely work on forever. It’s weird being so young, and so old.”

Hannah didn’t speak, but she nodded, studying Abbey, letting the gravity of her words hit. Around them, the cafe clinked with ceramic mugs on tables and buzzed with quiet conversation between patrons. A car brightly honked its horn from somewhere outside beyond the glass of the windows.

“You inspire me, Abbey,” Hannah said at last, and Abbey once more made to brush her off.

“How’s the saying go? ‘Fake it until you make it’, aye?”

“I mean it, Abbey,” Hannah gave her friend a little shake before dropping her hands. “You amaze me with Midge. You really, truly do.”

“And you amaze me with how you don’t want to talk about how you were stealing looks at that lad over there,” Abbey chided, masterfully switching the subject so abruptly that Hannah choked on a gasp in surprise. “You can’t really expect me to miss your wandering eyes while he’s been sat there.”

“Keep your voice down!” Hannah whispered, making a playful swipe at Abbey, who chuckled gleefully. “Besides, I’m not stealing looks. He’s been rather strange and I’ve been…keeping an eye on him.”

“Strange?” Abbey asked, cocking her head. “What do you mean?”

Hannah regaled her interactions with the man, and once she had explained to Abbey how odd she had found it all, Abbey looked quizzical. “So, he really doesn’t drink a drop?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Hannah murmured, her eyes darting to where the man sat. He was caught up so thickly in his brooding that she was certain that he could not hear them from behind the hum of the espresso machine. “He leaves so much money behind, too. It’s just…odd.”

“I’ll say,” Abbey agreed, peering over the machine to steal a quick glance at him. “He does look rather peeved to be here, doesn’t he?”

“Always does, and it’s for the entire time he stays. I just can’t figure out what his magnum opus is.”

The man continued to look out the window, and Hannah wondered at what he could possibly be scanning for on the streets outside. He didn’t seem to be studying any one thing in particular--instead, his eyes roved the expanse of the sidewalks and the buildings, even occasionally stretching upward to the roofs. He would take a few notes, his handwriting so firm that the table would rattle, and then he would return to his vigil. It was all so convoluted that Hannah couldn’t tell if she was wise for observing him or merely foolish for overthinking it all.

The front door of the cafe swung open, and Hannah saw a tall woman cross the threshold wearing a gorgeous overcoat of deep plum with gleaming black buttons. Hannah had never seen her before, and as the woman pulled off her thick, sharp sunglasses and clicked them shut before sliding them into her pocket, she wondered if she had ever frequented the cafe at all, because she certainly would have remembered such a person as her.

The woman’s hair, a mass of wild, tiny curls tamed back by a sleek black handkerchief bound around her head, was black as pitch and landed neatly halfway down her back. She was truly tall--her head was only just shorter than the coat hook high on the wall beside the door--and yet Hannah noticed her chunky-heeled boots, adding even more stature to her than she initially had. Teak skin, dark eyes, curved brows, and charmingly dressed in wide-legged black pants and a soft sweater, the woman was stunningly lovely.

As a ray of golden afternoon sunlight shafted in through the windows around her, she surveyed the cafe deliberately before her eyes landed on the young man sitting brooding in the corner. He looked up at her entrance, and Hannah saw him raise a singular eyebrow in her direction, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair expectantly.

The woman crossed to him, removed her coat, hung it over the chair opposite him, and sat down to face him. Hannah could hardly believe her eyes--he has friends?--and she shook off the nasty thought immediately, quietly scolding herself for it. A conversation began between them, and Hannah found herself longing to eavesdrop.

Abbey had seen the woman enter too, and she gave a low whistle. “She’s formidable,” Abbey breathed, and Hannah nodded. “She looks like one of those models in Arlington magazine.”

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” Hannah asked loftily, and Abbey gave her a sidelong glance and a quick shrug.

“He didn’t necessarily look pleased to see her.”

“No, he didn’t,” Hannah agreed. The woman was talking to the man, her elbows leaning on the table as she spoke, and he was staring at her and listening with an unreadable expression. They exchanged a nod, and then the man began to speak, running a hand through his chronically disheveled hair. The woman inspected the abandoned mug of frigid tea that the man had left untouched on the table, and she ran a finger along the rim of it before pulling it into her cupped palms as she listened to the man talk.

It was then that a young man approached the counter, coming out from where he had been seated in one of the thick lounge chairs by the coffee table and the sofa. He wandered to the register and blocked the man and the woman in the corner from sight, and Hannah noticed that Abbey distinctly ducked behind the espresso machine as he ambled over, leaving Hannah to front the order.

“Hello,” she said brightly to him, pushing the nose of her glasses up from where they had slid down her face slightly. She remembered that he had ordered a black coffee nearly an hour ago, and that he had been sitting in the lounge chair for quite some time pouring over the daily newspaper, even though the coffee in his mug had long run out. “How was the coffee?”

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“What? Oh,” he blinked slowly, a bit surprised by her question. “It was fine, thanks.”

Hannah smiled. “Lovely. Can we get something else for you?”

The boy jammed his hands into his pockets, and Hannah saw him cast a glance pointedly in the direction of the espresso machine. Abbey, who had taken up her post as far away from the boy as possible behind the machine, was intensely studying the dirty grate that caught water off the portafilters, running her fingers along them in a focused assessment of their integrity. Hannah saw the boy swallow hard, clearly fishing for words.

“Uh,” he muttered after a moment’s pause. “Another coffee to-go--a latte this time, please.”

“Surely,” Hannah nodded, ringing up the order and pulling a ticket to write the drink down on. “Anything else?”

“I want it hot,” he continued, this time making a point to look directly at where Abbey was shrinking behind the machine. “As hot as she can make it.”

It was Hannah’s turn to blink slowly now, and she gave him an uncertain nod. “Alright, we can handle that.”

“That’ll be all,” he quickly reached for his wallet, and Hannah finished ringing up the drink.

“Two pounds,” she said, and he pulled out the bills and placed them on the counter in front of the register. Hannah blinked at the scrap of paper he had placed atop the money, with a scrawled line of handwriting across it’s crumpled surface.

Thanks for the coffee. You’re cute. Call me sometime?

Collin

The boy, Collin, had scribbled his telephone number beneath his sentence, and when Hannah acknowledged the words and grasped their meaning, she felt heat crawl up her neck. He was rather nice to look at, with shaggy blonde hair and rather doe-like brown eyes on his pale face that possessed a strong jaw and cheekbones. He was lanky in the right ways, and he dressed fashionably enough to pass as casually suave. He met her eyes, and Hannah felt that traitorous heat climb right up under her jawbone and onto her cheeks. He smiled at her then, and she blinked, her hand resting just beside his note, her fingers itching to take it. His teeth were straight, and they almost gleamed in the fluorescent light of the cafe. Good dental hygiene went a long way, she realized.

This Collin fellow was handsome, and he had given her a note asking her to call him. It had been a long time since she had felt any sort of way like that, and she knew that she needed to say something to him; to let him know that she was interested too. Was she interested? She didn’t even know. He was still looking at her with those brilliant brown eyes and seemed as if he was poised waiting for her to speak, and she felt her tongue tie in her mouth.

Speak, girl! Her brain prodded, and she blinked, a smile breaking across her face. “So, what’s your--”

“Will you make sure she gets that?” The boy asked her, thankfully interrupting her just in time.

Hannah drew back ever so slightly, feeling as if he had just slapped her across the face. Collin made a small nod to where Abbey was still determinedly ignoring him from behind the espresso machine, and Hannah looked over to her friend as well, stupefied. When she returned her gaze to him, he smiled all of those beautiful white teeth at her once more. “Thanks much.”

He turned from the counter, his hands jammed back in his pockets, and he moved towards the far end of the counter near the door to wait for his drink. Hannah dropped her eyes to the money and the note he had left, feeling a ripe wash of mortification begin to flood her senses.

For Abbey. Of course; it’s for Abbey.

She dropped her hand over the note and pushed it to the side, placing the pound notes into the register and fulfilling the order. As she snatched up the note he had left, she felt it burning in her palm, the humiliation of where she had dared to let her mind wander taking up all the space between her chest and her throat. She stuck the note into Abbey’s line of sight on the edge of the counter under the espresso machine, and she watched as Abbey swiped it neatly into the rubbish bin, not bothering to even look at what the words on it expressed. That action somehow only worked to make Hannah feel even more ashamed.

Abbey dumped the boy’s latte unceremoniously into a to-go paper cup and placed it gingerly at the end of the counter beyond the machine, dutifully retreating back behind the safety of it. When she didn’t say anything to the boy, Hannah cleared her throat and forced herself to speak.

“That’ll be your latte, Collin,” his name was sour on her tongue, and she regretted saying it aloud at all. “Have a nice day.”

Collin gave Abbey a marvelous grin as he took his drink, but Abbey remained vigilant in her silence and her utter chosen ignorance of his existence. When she held her line for a few long moments without so much as a breath in his direction, the boy finally turned away from the counter and stalked towards the front door, briskly pulling it open and disappearing down the street and out of sight.

As soon as he was gone, Hannah felt a prickle of emotion in the back of her throat at her foolishness. Abbey turned to face her, her red brows so tightly knitted together that Hannah thought they had somehow woven themselves into one.

“He’s a pig,” Abbey scoffed under her breath, tossing her braid defiantly over her shoulder. “That’s the third note he’s tried to press on me. Thanks for ringing him up--I don’t want to speak to him at all.”

“What makes him a pig?” Hannah asked, slightly taken aback. “It was just a note telling you he thought you were pretty.”

Abbey flushed red, and Hannah saw anger sparkle in her eyes. “I went to secondary school with him and his crowd of blokes. He doesn’t remember me, but I remember him.”

“Why’s that?”

“You remember the boys that bed the girls who don’t want it,” Abbey muttered gravely. “And the ones that do it and get away with it.”

Hannah felt a flicker of disgust in her stomach, and she tried to wipe away the feelings of shame that she had felt grip her as she took on the task of wiping down the pastry display cabinet to clear it of stray crumbs and rearrange the last few wares on their trays. The muffled sound of a sweeping opera sonnet swelled through the metal doors behind her, and she knew that Ruby and Emil were surely turning down the kitchen for the afternoon, undoubtedly sweeping and mopping to the tune of some epic romantic tragedy that was blasting from his little radio. A few patrons brought their dirty mugs and dishes to the counter for Hannah and Abbey to collect and bring to the dish bin, and Hannah tried to shake off the interaction with the pig known as Collin and do her best to smile at the departing customers as they donned their coats, thanked her, and headed towards the door.

I would’ve done anything not to know that about him, Hannah’s thoughts swirled as she scrubbed at a particularly sticky splatter of honey from the surface of the counter. And to know that the note had been for me.

Her chest hurt with something she didn’t like to think about, and she squashed the feeling way down inside of her--as far down as she could send it. She wasn’t going to get flustered over things like that--not when there was work to do and more important things to focus on.

“Hey,” Abbey broke her from her thoughts. “Did you ever apply for that program? The one in the city center you were talking about?”

Hannah’s hands froze on the counter, and she pictured her desk at home. The application had sat in the bottom drawer for days, waiting patiently for her to send it off, but every time she had retrieved it from the drawer and made an attempt to force herself to mail it, she found herself unable to carry it out. It wasn’t done yet--or so she had told herself over and over--it wasn’t yet perfect. She needed to add more things to her blasted CV, needed to make it more appealing to the eye, and needed to beef up the section where she mentioned her merits and her history of volunteering.

But it was done, and she knew that she could only attempt to embellish it so many more times before it became gaudy. She also knew that she hadn’t much to offer the application; she had never been university, she had average grades in secondary, and she hadn’t much experience other than working in cafes and bakeries, and volunteering at the medic clinic back home.

It wasn’t much, and that in turn told her that she wasn’t much, either. And that held her frozen to the spot before the post office, terrified to let the application be seen by anyone other than her,

“It’s in the mail,” Hannah lied cheerily, not facing Abbey. “Now we wait. Thanks for asking!”

“Good on you,” Abbey gave her a thumbs up and grinned. “If anyone can do medical school, it’s you. You are so perfect for it.”

Hannah’s mouth was dry as she swallowed before returning Abbey’s smile with what she hoped was appreciation. Now I have to mail the damned thing. God, what a mess…

There was a scrape of metal on and Emil appeared from the kitchen, both his hands and his hair dusted generously with flour. “Girls,” he sung, stretching his arms over his head. “You are here with me tomorrow, yes?”

“Not me,” Abbey said, and Emil frowned theatrically. “I’m with Midge all day tomorrow, if you can believe it.”

“I’m here,” Hannah answered him with a wave, and Emil gave her a grin that could have warmed ice. “What are you scheming?”

“Eclairs,” he crooned, “just prepped them with lovely Ruby. They will be ready first thing tomorrow, for those of us who are present,” he looked pointedly yet teasingly at Abbey, and she swatted at him with the rag at her hip. He danced away from her lash, and he hid behind Hannah. “They are going to be the crown jewel of this pastry case,” he motioned to the glass display. “But of course, we get first taste.”

“Of course!” Hannah repeated, and Abbey rolled her eyes.

“I’m never here on your creative days, Emil!” She complained, putting her hands on her hips. “Can’t you make something glorious on days when I’m working the bar?”

“For you, I will try,” he pledged with dramatic flair, tucking a hand over his heart. “I will make it my life’s goal, sweetest Abbey.”

“Good,” Abbey snarled. “At least you pretend to appease me when I’m within earshot.”

Emil looked stricken, and Hannah and Abbey broke into laughter, both shooing him from the counter and back towards the kitchen. “Closing time!” He crowed over his shoulder at them, swiping his hands back and forth. “No more requests from the chef, j’ai compris?”

“Got it,” Hannah cackled, pushing him through the door. From inside the kitchen, she heard Ruby say something in clipped French, and Emil retorted hotly in Dutch, causing Ruby to put her head in her hands in mock frustration.

Hannah turned to the front counter once, barely in time to see the man and woman in the corner rise from their table and pull on their coats. The woman, tall as she was, matched the man in stature, and Hannah watched intrigued as she pointed a single finger at the man and jabbed it in his direction, saying something that seemed to come across to Hannah as quite sharp. The man glared at her as he stuffed his field notebook into his coat pocket, but he didn’t respond to whatever it was that she had said.

When the woman turned, she and Hannah locked eyes, and Hannah looked away briskly, hoping not to be perceived as staring. The woman moved easily to the front door and pushed it open, the man following close on her heels. As they crossed through the threshold, Hannah moved to the far end of the bar that was nearest to the door, and she tried to appear as casual as possible by the stacks of paper cups and little wax baggies as she strained her ears to their limit of comprehension.

“I don’t want you to get involved in this,” the woman snapped as she stepped out onto the street and held the door for the man.

“I don’t get a choice,” the man said gruffly as he followed her outside.

The door slammed shut behind them, and Hannah watched their backs as they moved down the street towards the tube station, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

She released her grip on the counter, and she realized that she had been clinging to it so hard that her fingertips had gone numb. Abbey looked over from where she was cleaning the espresso machine, and she raised her eyebrows at the door.

“They must be fighting,” she commented with a cock of her head. “Did you see the way she huffed out of here? He must be a real deadbeat.”

Hannah didn’t reply. Instead, she focused her attention on the table in the corner that they had vacated, and she wiped her hands on her apron as she moved through the cafe and the last remaining afternoon customers on her pathway over to it.

She looked down at the money--nine pounds, twenty pence--and she frowned deeply, not wanting to pick it up. Something felt off about it as it lay there, and she felt an odd sort of chill go down her spine as she shuffled it off the surface of the table and into the pocket of her apron. It all felt weird to her--the man, the change he was adamant on leaving, the tea he never drank. She knew that when she later would stuff the pound notes into the tip jar on the counter, she would be able to stop thinking about it. But as it weighed her pocket down, she found herself wanting to be rid of it as soon as possible.

She reached for the mug the man had left, and as she wrapped her hand around it, she lurched back so suddenly from it that the nearest customer at their table eyed her with surprise.

“Alright there?” He asked, and Hannah turned to face him, willing her eyes to soften.

“Merely caught some heat,” she chuckled a little too loudly, forcing a smile. “All is well.”

As the customer nodded and looked back towards his crossword puzzle, Hannah felt a shiver go all the way through her. She tentatively reached a finger out towards the mug, running it along the side of the ceramic edge.

Her skin warmed instantly, and she pulled back again, bewildered.

Hot. The tea is hot--scalding--as if it’s just been poured.

She looked into the mug and saw that it had been half drunk, the tea bag floating lazily around in a slow circle. The woman must have sipped at it as she and the man conversed…but Hannah had steeped that tea nearly two hours ago, and she herself had watched it go from steaming to still.

She looked out the window in the direction of where the man and woman had headed off. They were long gone, but Hannah felt something unsettling hanging in the air, almost as if she were being watched where she stood. She caught her breath, her hand reaching for the mug, and there was a soft tang of heat--woodsmoke, or ash--that entered her senses as she plucked up the half-drunk tea and forced her legs to move towards the dish bin.

Try as she might’ve, she failed to describe the feeling, and she didn’t reply when Abbey asked her why she had suddenly gone so pale.