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I’m transported back to helping Max with his homework after school, going through line after line with him to make sure the words were sinking in. ‘Are you dyslexic?’
He shrugs. ‘Maybe? I’ve never been tested.’
I tuck a chair under a nearby table. ‘I can look over it if you want.’
It takes every ounce of effort not to take it back when I realise this thing could be twenty pages long, could take me hours to check over. But I don’t. The offer sits out there like a wayward ball in a game of catch.
‘Really? Would you?’ His gratitude glows bright and hopeful;sunshine warming a pavement, drawing out the weeds from the cracks.
‘I’m not exactly busy.’ I gesture to the near-empty coffee shop around us before untying and retying my ponytail as I reiterate, ‘I’ll do it.’
‘You’re an angel, thank you.’ Something loosens from his posture, a single knot pulled from the tangle. ‘Dunno what I’d do without you, Ava Monroe.’
I try to brush off his words like I always do, but some part of them takes root.
And then his phone flashes with a text, and his eyes light up as he reads it, and his full smile returns in all its blazing glory. I don’t know who’s texting him, but whoever’s on the other end of the phone has untangled the remaining knots and released the weight from his shoulders.
I shake my head and the root dislodges. My heart’s grown accustomed to a lack of sunlight. Nothing can bloom there.
‘I’m studying part-time at the moment,’ Dylan tells me one afternoon while I help her carry a few boxes to the stockroom, her short hair falling out of her ponytail as usual. ‘But I’m hoping to squeeze in a bit of travel before my career properly starts.’
‘Have you done much travelling before?’
‘None,’ she says. ‘I’ve barely even left London.’
‘Where would you go?’
I grab a KitKat while we’re here in the back room and her eyebrows raise. One thing I’ve learnt about Dylan: she’s a stickler for rules. She starts emptying her box and filling the shelves with its contents while I flatten cardboard and chomp on my chocolate bar.
‘I love the ocean. I’ve lived in London my whole life, so the sea has always felt like the perfect place to refresh. I’ve been trying to convince my boyfriend to go somewhere but he doesn’t think it’s worth it right now. Thinks we should travel when we’ve retired and all our ch—’ She grimaces and clears her throat before she continues, ‘When we have more free time.’
‘A few weeks here and there isn’t going to destroy your career,’ I say.
‘It’s fine. I’m kind of nervous anyway, so it’s probably for the best. I’m not even sure if I’d enjoy it.’ She says this, but her expression’s still wistful.
‘My brother works in travel. When it comes to it, I can put you guys in contact if you want. He’d probably— ugh.’ I crane my neck to peek through the glass and see Carl walk in with a woman I don’trecognise. ‘Sorry, Carl’s here. I should go and do my job.’
I wipe my hands on my apron and swallow my final bite as I push open the door. Our manager has seated the power-suited woman at his table and reaches me at the till with superhuman speed.
‘We have Nadia from head office in this morning.’ He’s smiling as he talks, but it’s entirely fake and he doesn’t blink once. I’m reminded of Madame Tussauds waxworks, only less lifelike. ‘She’s going to observe and give feedback, so please put your best foot forward.’
He looks down at my shoes as he says this. I’m wearing my Docs, which aren’ttechnicallypart of our uniform, but I’m going out after work and didn’t want to lug them around with me on this morning’s commute.
‘Will do,’ I reply evenly, resisting the urge to tap my heels together like I’m on my way to the Yellow Brick Road.
‘Could you make her an oat latte? Make sure the milk is perfect.’ I start to prepare the shot and he adds, ‘And while you’re there, can I have a flat white?’
I comply, and over the next hour or so, I’m on my best behaviour. From our short interactions, I get the impression Nadia sees right through Carl’s smarmy exterior. She talks separately to both Dylan and me about how it is to work here, and of course, while I don’t expressly say anything bad about Carl, I’m not exactly subtle either. I’d never claim to be good at his job, nor would I even want it, but he proves every day that some people are entirely unsuited to managing a team.
Nadia nods a lot when I speak, listening when I tell her what my favourite elements of working here are. I give her a more professional version of what I told Finn that firstnight we hung out; I like the structure and organisation and the satisfaction of knowing how things work and how to share that with people.
‘Of course, we love when people stick with us for a long time,’ she says, handing me her empty mug. An image floats across my vision of me, middle-aged, still working in this shop, and a shudder rolls through me. ‘But it’s important to us that everyone is working to their strengths, whether that’s front of house or elsewhere. Your perfect role might not be behind this counter.’
Carl appears then and says, ‘Dylan’s new, so we’ll be working on finessing her coffee skills as soon as possible.’
‘She’s doing great so far,’ I tell them, and Dylan gives me a small smile in thanks. ‘And we’re already on it—we’ve planned a training session for later.’
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Carl says. He turns to Nadia, ‘Didn’t I say Ava was on top of things?’
