‘How do you feel about Maple Gold replacing you with a different family?’
‘Does Lottie resent you putting her on-screen at such a young age?’
‘Those are some great, um, deep questions,’ Greta said with a swallow. She grabbed her notes, hurriedly trying to recover her thread. ‘I think my talk will cover most of them . . . Now, where was I?’
Then, suddenly, the shrill scream of the smoke alarm pierced the moment. Greta jumped and spun around to see smoke billowing from the oven.
Josie shouted out over the bleeping alarm. ‘Maisie. Did you forget about the brownies?’
Maisie’s head snapped up, her eyes widening when she noticed the grey clouds. ‘Oops.’
A flurry of activity broke out.
Maisie darted behind the counter and yanked open the oven door, waving her arms as the grey smoke curled out. ‘It’s fine. Totally under control.’
Josie grabbed her oven gloves and pulled out the tray. The burnt brownies looked like steaming lumps of coal, and she tossed them into the sink.
Greta rushed over to help, spinning on the tap so the brownies spat and sizzled. She threw open the front door to let in some fresh air, then grabbed a tea towel and wafted it in front of the smoke alarm until it stopped. ‘Is everyone okay?’ she called out.
An elderly couple had already put on their coats and scuttled outside. The remaining four guests had drifted toward the buffet table, their focus now on cake rather than conversation. Greta followed them, trying to salvage what was left of the evening.
One man wrapped cake into a napkin and slipped it into his pocket. A couple of women wearing matching blue anoraks conversed loudly.
‘I didn’t recognise Greta at first, did you? She’s put on quite a bit of weight,’ one said.
‘I know. Age isn’t kind to some ladies,’ her friend replied.
‘Ahem.’ Greta stood beside them and picked up a cookie. ‘I’m forty-five and proud of it,’ she said, biting it into it. ‘Worth every extra pound, don’t you think?’
The women paused with their cakes suspended mid-air, before nodding sheepishly.
Greta attempted to spark interest in her acting classes, but the attention was elsewhere, mostly on the kitchen, which looked like it had been trampled by a herd of buffalo.
She joined Josie at the door, wearily bidding goodnight to the guests as they filtered out.
‘Sorry everything didn’t go to plan. I can’t thank you enough,’ Josie said. She handed Greta a brown envelope containing her small fee. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out to run a coffee shop . . .’
Greta mustered a tired smile. After tonight, she felt the same way about performing in public.
She said goodnight, then called Lottie while trudging to her car, leaving a message on her voicemail. ‘Hi, sweetheart. I’ll be home soon. Hope your rehearsal went well.’
Rain pelted down, and Greta hunched her shoulders against the cold. The streets were empty and quiet, and icy droplets snaked down her neck, making her shiver. In the dark, she noticed a hunched figure approaching, and Jim’s warning about staying safe echoed in her mind. She tried to swerve, but the person bumped her arm.
Startled, Greta dropped her car keys and stooped to pick them up. When she looked up, a woman in a long, dark coat stood over her. Her face was part hidden by a voluminous hood, and long tendrils of her damp white hair hung down. With a quick muttered apology, the stranger handed a piece of paper to Greta and hurried across the road.
As she stood up, Greta’s heart thudded in her chest. Under the dim street lamp, she uncurled her fingers and glanced at the flyer. It was probably just a pizza menu, but the vintage-style design caught her eye. It featured an illustration of a white rabbit and the words ‘Looking for the Perfect Blend?’ Beneath it was an image of a jar with the label ‘Drink Me.’
She gripped the flyer tighter, unsure what it was even promoting. A strange feeling of curiosity rippled through her body. Looking for the perfect blend? In her life, she most certainly was.
She climbed into her car and tossed the flyer onto the passenger seat. Sitting there for a moment, she flopped her head against the steering wheel as the evening’s events raced through her mind. Was she ever going to get her life back on track?
With a deep sigh, Greta turned the key in the ignition and waited for the engine to rumble to life. The light from the street lamps twinkled orange in the raindrops on the windscreen, and she released the handbrake.
It was probably just a trick of the light, but as Greta pulled off the car park, she could have sworn the white rabbit on the flyer gave her a wink.
Chapter 2
HOW DID THEcoffee evening go, darling?’ Nora Noakes sat behind her desk the next day with her fingertips steepled against her chin. ‘All super-marvellous, yes?’
