A coral lipstick in Greta’s make-up bag seemed to call to her, one she’d bought but never worn. She found it and looked in the mirror above her mantelpiece to dab it on her lips. The colour added warmth to her complexion, and the pearls seemed to make her eyes glow.
Greta noticed the deep furrows between her eyebrows had returned. The lines that ran across her forehead like tram tracks had reappeared, too. They usually bothered her, a reminder of time passing. But now she tried to see them differently, as if they gave her an air of wisdom.
A text message from Josie pulled her attention away from the mirror.
Thanks again for your help at Brewtique. If you ever want to repeat the experience, let me know x
Greta shook her head. No chance. She wasn’t going to go throughthatagain.
She sat down at the dining table just as the front door opened. Lottie traipsed into the hallway wearing a secretive smile that faded when she saw her mum.
‘Hi,’ Greta called out. ‘Had a good time with Jayden?’ Lottie’s eyes flicked to her mum’s orange lips, then to the pearls around her neck. ‘Are you going to a wedding or something? Is that Grandma’s necklace?’
Greta touched the pearls. ‘This? No, someone gave it to me.’
‘Must be nice,’ Lottie muttered, still eyeing the strand. ‘Looks expensive.’
Greta smiled, saying nothing more. ‘So, how was your walk? Where did you go?’
‘Just around.’ Lottie shrugged. ‘The park.’
‘Oh, nice.’ Greta didn’t mention she’d walked there, too, in case Lottie thought she’d been stalking her. ‘And Jayden has a dog, right?’
Lottie’s eyes softened a fraction. ‘Yeah, Benji.’ She shook off her coat and flopped down on the sofa, holding out a photo on her phone. ‘A golden Labrador. He’s adorable.’
Greta leaned closer. ‘Oh, look at him. Yeah, he’s gorgeous.’ Lottie hesitated, as if choosing her next words carefully. ‘When I leave school, I think I want to work with dogs,’ she said quietly. ‘Maybe in an animal shelter or something . . .’‘Animals?’Greta said, surprised. She’d always thought, and hoped, that Lottie would return to acting one day. She’d been such a natural in the commercials, nailing her timing and lines every time. ‘Are you sure?’
Lottie rounded her shoulders. ‘Yeah. Why?’
‘Nothing,’ Greta said, trying to mask her prickle of disappointment. Acting was a Perks family legacy. ‘You’ve always had a way with animals. Maybe you could start volunteering at the shelter, or even dog walking . . .’
Lottie shot her a wary look. ‘You’re not going to try talking me into acting again, like usual?’
‘No, I promise.’ Greta raised her palms. ‘Your dad and I just want you to be happy.’
Lottie’s eyes narrowed, as if she was waiting for a catch. ‘Did you really just saythat?You’vealwayspushed me into things.’
‘Not anymore,’ Greta said firmly, wanting to ease the recent tensions between them. ‘I’ve learned my lesson.’
‘Right.’ Lottie crossed her arms, still suspicious. ‘Well, acting’s just pretending to be someone else, and I’d rather just beme.Not live in a fantasy world.’
Greta’s fingers drifted to the necklace again. As much as she’d like to tell Lottie about the magical coffee shop and Mapleville, she knew it would only add fuel to her daughter’s accusation. ‘A fantasy world, eh?’ she said, her lips curling into a half-smile. ‘Somewhere people get along, help each other out and are kind? Yeah, I’d love to live in that world.’
Lottie flashed her an incredulous look, like her mother had been swapped for a clone who looked like her, but hadn’t quite nailed her ways. She opened her mouth, then struggled to find the words. ‘I’ll be in my room,’ she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.
She retreated before Greta could say anything else.
Greta tensed her shoulders, bracing for a door slam. But a gentle click came instead. Perhaps a small breakthrough?
As Greta curled her legs onto the sofa, Iris’s coffee shop still occupied her thoughts. Had anyone else stumbled across the place and tried the peculiar coffee? What had theirexperiencebeen like? Maybe someone might have left a review.
Her eyes then settled on her laptop, sitting on the coffee table.
She wasn’t a fan of leaving feedback for restaurants, cafés or hotels, having been on the receiving end of criticism for her own performances over the years. Good reviews made her feel like she was soaring, while the bad ones felt like being buried alive, each hurtful word like a shovelful of dirt.
‘Don’t take criticism from people you wouldn’t go to for advice,’ Nora always told her.
Greta opened Tripadvisor and searched for coffee shops in Longmill, scrolling down the long list. Not able to find anywhere listed for the location between the launderette and the newsagent, she zoomed in on the map. As she’d initially thought, there wasn’t a building there, just an alleyway.
