‘Yes, me, too. I need to return to the boutique.’
Greta reached for her shopping bag. ‘Thank you so much for your kindness, and the pearls. It’s been wonderful to meet you.’
‘It was my pleasure.’ Millie stood up and smoothed down her dress. ‘You must come to the next coffee morning at the town hall. The ladies of Mapleville love a good get-together, and you’d be very welcome. We always have a few stories and activities to share.’
Greta wondered what she could possibly contribute to this perfect world. It was unlikely anyone would remember her as a former coffee commercial actor. ‘Perhaps I could give a talk, or run a drama class, to thank you for your hospitality?’ she suggested tentatively.
Millie’s face lit up. ‘Yes! How marvellous. The ladies will love that. Let’s compare diaries soon.’
As Greta walked back down the garden path, she felt like she was walking on air. She and Millie embraced on the pavement, exchanging double kisses on the cheek as they said their farewells.
Greta looked forward to getting back to her pretty white house, to kick off her heels. They were now really pinching.
Now more familiar with her surroundings, she noticed finer details in Mapleville as she walked, such as the golden filigree hands of the town hall clock, and the doves perching on the intricate cream stonework. Birds flew in formation, creating shifting patterns in the sky—an arrow, a circle, then a heart.
However, by the time Greta’s own street came into view, her footsteps began to falter. Her body felt sluggish, and she felt off balance, as if the ground was shifting beneath her feet. Her surroundings seemed to tilt, and Greta stumbled toward a nearby bench to sit down. She felt light-headed, as if suffering from a touch of sunstroke.
Things seemed to slip in and out of focus. She was vaguely aware of concerned expressions on the faces of passers-by, but they looked indistinct, as if viewed through fog.
‘Are you okay?’ A man’s voice reached her. It sounded muffled, like he was speaking through cotton.
Greta squinted at him, struggling to make out his features. He moved closer, but his figure was blurred. Through her hazy vision, she could make out he was wearing a suit, a tie and a Panama hat.
Her heart leapt when she realised who he was. ‘Jim?’ she gasped.
‘Yes. Hi, honey . . .’ His voice was distant like an echo.
‘W . . . what are you doing here?’
‘I got these for you . . .’
Sunflowers appeared before her, bright yellow, but with faded edges. Greta reached out to touch them, her fingers sweeping through the air. Everything around her started to shimmer, like in a heatwave.
She blinked furiously. Mapleville seemed to be falling away, and she didn’t want to lose it. Jim’s smile slowly melted into a featureless face.
‘No, wait . . .’ she said, reaching toward him. She felt helpless as he dissolved into a mass of shapes and colours. Her eyelids felt like they were setting to stone.
Greta wanted to stay here, to talk to Jim, to get back to her house, to take off her shoes, to smell the sunflowers. But a dense darkness pulled at her, as if sucking her into a thick blanket. A black veil descended, so she could no longer see anything, not even her own hand in front of her face.
Greta tried to resist, to fight against the smothering sensation.
Iris’s warning suddenly rang faintly in her head.Don’t struggle. Don’t try to stay.
And then Greta heard actual words. This time closer, as if someone was beside her, speaking right into her ear.
‘Don’tfight it.’
Greta felt someone grip her arm, lightly shaking her.
And then Iris’s voice, much stronger and clearer now. ‘Welcome back, Greta.’
Chapter 10
GRETA GRIMACED. THEpounding in her skull felt like a heavyweight boxer was trying to punch his way out. She pressed her palms against her temples, willing the pain to ease. Her worst-ever hangover or caffeine crash had never felt this bad. A thick fog of confusion clouded her senses, leaving her groggy and disorientated.
She opened her eyes, allowing her surroundings to filter into focus. Light streamed through the windows of Iris’s coffee shop, glinting off the jars on the shelves. Dust motes twinkled in the air. Greta could hear the creak of old floorboards and footsteps pacing back and forth. She swallowed, her mouth dry, like she’d licked the bottom of a bird cage.
The pacing stopped, and Iris came into view. Her face was still and calm, as if it was a perfectly normal to find someone clutching their head in her booth. ‘Welcome back, Greta,’ she repeated.
