She huffed. ‘They don’t like mine.’
‘They trust you,’ he said gently. ‘You don’t have to be all… soft about it. Your mum wasn’t.’ He poked at a tray of brownies.
Mae’s mouth pulled into something like a smile. She couldn’t remember her mother, gone before Mae could walk, a car accident, no one to blame, a mechanical fault. Mae was never sure how to talk about the stranger who’d birthed her. So she just tried to seem fine about the topic. Maybe she was, she wasn’t really sure. If she could point to a feeling, it was mostly just sadness for her dad, for what he’d lost.
‘I’ll go where you put me,’ Mae said, rinsing out the cloth.
He lifted a brownie, sniffed it, and nodded. ‘That’s my girl,’ he said, distracted.
There was a knock from the front. Her dad went out to see.
Mae heard him say, ‘Ofcourseopening hours don’t apply to you. You’re family.’
Mae smiled, a real one this time, and went out to the front to greet Callie, sweeping into the bakery like she always did, looking cool and effortless despite the heat.
But it wasn’t Callie alone. The waitress from the cafe was with her. Close enough for Callie’s hand to brush her back as they stepped inside.
Mae felt like she’d been bonked on the head with a cartoon mallet. She’d thought Callie was just talking. Was she serious? The waitress?!
‘What can we get you ladies?’ her dad asked.
‘Whatever’s still good and a pot of tea, please, Mr Morgan,’ Callie said, smiling. Her dad went into the back to find something.
Callie’s eyes flicked to Mae. ‘Mate.’
‘Buddy,’ Mae said with minimal mocking.
The waitress smiled politely. She looked nervous.
‘You remember Emma?’ Callie asked.
‘Sure,’ Mae said. Her voice came out thin.
Emma gave a shy smile. ‘Nice to see you again.’
‘You too,’ Mae managed. She wiped at some crumbs on the counter that weren’t there.
Mae’s world was tilted. That day in Emma’s cafe had seemed like nothing more than a daft moment Callie would laugh about later. Callie was always buoyed by attention, whatever the source. Mae had believed it would end there, because Callie didn’t date girls. Callie didn’t look at girls.
But here she was with Emma, ordering pastries and tea like this was the most ordinary thing in the world.
‘Long day?’ Callie asked.
‘Saturdays,’ Mae replied with a shrug. She looked to Emma. ‘You don’t work Saturdays?’
‘Called in sick,’ Emma said with a shy smile to Callie. Callie returned it.
What the fuck was happening?
Mae’s dad came out with some of those little Portuguese tarts, a steaming pot and two cups on a tray.
Mae busied herself with some imaginary cleaning at the front, all the better to keep an eye on the scene. She watched Callie sit down beside Emma, saw Emma lean in with somequiet remark that drew a laugh from her. She watched Callie try to pay, which was futile; Mae’s father waved her off before she could even open her purse.
Later, Mae watched them leave together, still smiling at each other, Callie tossing Mae a fleeting ‘Bye’ on her way out, as if Mae were just staff to be acknowledged in passing.
The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind them.
Mae’s dad came back out, wiping his hands on a cloth. ‘You all right, love?’
