What if I drink the rest of thecoffee?
At home, she often zapped her half-drunk cooled brews in the microwave, ignoring Lottie’s exasperated requests to ‘just make a new one, Mum.’
But Iris’s coffee wasn’t ordinary. It seemed to offer a chance to reimagine her life.
Greta approached the cup with trepidation, peeking into the shallow, stagnant brown liquid. Was there enough left to help her return to Mapleville?
Iris hadn’t mentioned anything about temperature or quantity affecting the ritual or its effects. If Greta drank it, she’d technically only be consuming one cup of coffee, just spread out across the day. She pursed her lips as temptation bloomed in her chest, like drops of ink in water.
Her thoughts strayed back to the disastrous evening at the Anvil Inn, Lottie’s sullen silences, Jim’s disbelief in Iris’s coffee shop, Nora’s offers of uninspiring work, and the ever-growing pile of unpaid bills on her kitchen table. All the mounting rejections in Greta’s life felt like a heap of rubber tyres piled on top of her.
Mapleville offered her the chance to show the world, her family, and herself that she still hadsomethingto offer.
Greta headed once more to the jar labelled Starbright, taking it off the shelf. The glass stopper resisted at first, but she gave it a firm pull.
Sniffing its contents, she found its aroma bittersweet, like burnt chocolate with a hint of spice she didn’t recognise. Greta reached inside, pinching the dried leaves and ground coffee beans between her thumb and forefinger. The mixture felt crispy and almost disintegrated at her touch.
She carried a small amount over to the booth and sprinkled it directly into her cup. Then she stirred the concoction with a spoon, watching the leaves break apart and swirl in the remains of her coffee. By now her fingertips tingled with craving, even though the thought of drinking the cold brew felt icky.
Greta didn’t know if drinking it would work or not. There was only a small amount of coffee left in the cup—possibly enough for an hour or two away from Longmill. She could still be back here in time for dinner with Lottie, and have time to prepare for theCoffeeMorning Crewshow the next day.
Her only way to find out was to try it. Even if it felt impulsive, possibly reckless.
As she raised her cup, the coffee’s aroma hit her, strong and pungent. The cold china sent a chill through her lips.
A voice in her head warned her this wasn’t a good idea.
What if Iris catches me?
The thought hit her like a brick, but the pull was too strong, the temptation too much. Greta gripped the handle of the cup tighter. Despite all the alarm bells sounding in her mind, she let the cold coffee slide down her throat.
The bitterness was more pronounced this time, unpleasant. Specks of leaves stuck to her teeth, and she ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth to dislodge them. As Greta swallowed, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions spun in her mind. But did she really have anything here to stay for?
In Mapleville, she was a better version of herself, living in a picture-perfect place. Her family loved and cherished her.
But what now? What was still missing from her life there?
She considered her next wish and found her thoughts taking her back to her improvisation in the ballroom, where she had truly feltseen.The imaginary flowers, the applause, receiving the pretend award.
And she wanted more of it.
‘For my third wish—’ Greta spoke aloud with determination ‘—IwishI had it all. I want my career to sparkle, just like it used to do. I want to be a star, with the world at my feet, to be adored, not forgotten.’
Then she drained the rest of the cup.
Perhaps because Greta still had some coffee in her system, or perhaps because the coffee was cold, or maybe because she’d added the Starbright, the effects came on faster this time.
A low hum began in her ears, building steadily until it resembled the drill of roadworks. She clutched the edge of the table, nauseous, as she felt herself slipping away once more.
Somewhere in the haze of shifting sights and sounds, she heard the coffee shop door fly open and hurried footsteps approaching her.
‘Greta.’Iris’s voice flew at her, sharp and urgent. ‘What on earth have you done?’
But by then, it was too late.
The last thing Greta saw was the white rabbit on the coffee jar label—and it seemed to give her a frown.
Chapter 19
