‘No,’ Greta said quickly. ‘Well . . . not inthatway.’
There was a rustling sound on the line, followed by a long pause. ‘So, where were you?’ he asked.
Greta didn’t want to lie to him. Somehow, making up an excuse felt heavier than sharing a truth he wouldn’t believe. ‘I went back to that coffee shop . . .’
‘What?’he said sharply. ‘The derelict one? The place that wasn’t even there when you tried showing me?’
Greta laughed nervously, though she didn’t mean to. ‘The placeisreal. It’s just . . . hard to explain.’
Jim let out a humourless laugh. ‘Hard to explain? You don’t say?’ He hesitated, then his voice softened. ‘I was really worried about you. Me and Lottie both were . . .’
Greta screwed her eyes shut, knowing how absurd this sounded. ‘I really did go there, drink coffee . . . and go to Mapleville.’
Jim sighed deeply. ‘So, you’re still insisting you can slip into a coffee commercial? You know that doesn’t make any sense, right?’
‘Yes, I know.’
The air fell quiet between them.
‘I don’t want you to get lost in something that isn’t real,’ Jim said finally. ‘Do you think you should see a doctor?’
Greta shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. ‘A doctor can’t help me. This isn’t a medical thing. I honestlydiddrink coffee in that café, and it really did take me to Maple- ville. I lost all track of time and woke up the next day, back in the shop.
‘I’ve been talking to someone online who’s been there, too. Edgar Barker. He owns a vintage shop. He believes me.’ Her voice became a whisper. ‘There isn’t anyone else, Jim. There’s never been anyone else but you.’
Jim’s breathing was hoarse and unsteady. ‘I want to believe you. I really do. I just . . . don’t know how.’
Then the line went dead.
Greta sat there motionless, the phone still held to her ear. She was losing Jim even more, and it felt like a knife slicing through parachute cords, cutting her free while she was still falling.
She reached up to touch her pearl necklace, needing its reassurance. But her fingers pressed against her bare collarbone.
‘Damn it,’ she hissed, her hand falling away. She pictured the loose pearls sitting on Iris’s table.
Her only physical connection to Mapleville was gone.
Greta paced around her flat, trailing a hand down her neck as her thoughts spiralled. Had Iris thrown the broken necklace away? Would she ever see it again? The worries grabbed hold of her and wouldn’t let go.
There was no way she could wait until New Year to get the pearls back. So, Greta grabbed her coat.
Needing some fresh air, she left her car behind. She jogged through the streets, then the park, her chest feeling on fire.
When she finally reached Iris’s coffee shop, she skidded to a stop. Pausing with her hands on her knees, she tried to catch her breath.
The weeds in front of the slender building were knee-high. The walls were covered in graffiti, and the windows were shattered. A rusted chain hung across the door, just as it had when she’d shown the abandoned building to Jim.
Greta pounded her fists against the door. ‘Iris! Open up. I need to talk to you.’
People slowed as they passed by, casting quizzical glances in her direction, but no one stopped to ask if she needed help.
‘Iris.’
After hammering on the door until her knuckles stung, Greta dropped her hands to her sides. Stepping back, she stared up helplessly at the derelict building. It looked as empty and hollow as she felt inside.
‘It’s gone,’ she whispered.
Was she talking about the shop? The pearls? Her sanity? She wasn’t sure. Had the consequences Iris warned her about kicked in, making the coffee shop out of reach?
