‘Can we not do this right here?’ she said under her breath. ‘The wall’s not exactly soundproof.’
As if summoned by the words, there was a new sound from the back: footsteps, faster this time, then the scrape of something heavy being shifted. Callie stopped breathing.
Isabella’s eyes flicked towards the kitchen door again, assessing. For a second, she seemed to weigh up how far she could push.
‘I can do quiet,’ she said after a beat.
‘Thank you,’ Callie said.
Something in her expression must have shifted, because Isabella’s own softened by a fraction as she misted Callie’s face with settling spray.
‘Hey,’ she said quietly. ‘You can manage one baker. That’s all she is. And you’re a star.’
Callie managed a thin smile. ‘You must be very good at pep talks in the green room.’
‘Only for the ones who tip,’ Isabella said. ‘Speaking of, I accept cash, card, and gossip.’
Callie tutted and rolled her eyes. The walkie on the table crackled.
‘Isabella, how’s Callie looking?’ came Neil’s voice, tinny.
‘Flawless, obviously,’ Isabella said, leaning over to press the button.
‘Sam’s er… stuck somewhere, running a bit late,’ Neil replied. ‘We might need to roll on some pre-stuff with Callie and the… what’s her name? The baker. Just chatting at the counter.’
Callie’s spine snapped straight. ‘We’re not scheduled to do that,’ she said quickly.
Isabella glanced at her, then at the walkie. ‘She says she can’t wait,’ she told Neil with a twinkle in her eye.
The walkie clicked off. Callie wanted to smash it.
‘Why does this keep happening?’ she asked Isabella, half-desperate.
Isabella’s eyes gleamed with a mix of pity and morbid curiosity. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Looks like showtime came early.’
‘I can’t…’ Callie started, then stopped, because why not? Why couldn’t she walk five metres and say niceties to Mae Morgan? Was it really so hard? They’d broken the seal already. They’d spoken to each other. Eye contact had been made. It wasn’t so bad now, was it?
Sigh. Yes. Yes, it was.
‘I’ll be right here,’ Isabella said with as close as she got to warmth. ‘With blotting papers.’
‘What more could I ask?’ Callie muttered.
‘You’re welcome,’ Isabella said. She gave Callie’s shoulder a quick, surprisingly warm squeeze. ‘Chin up, eyes bright,emotional disaster contained to thelowerhalf of your face if possible, yeah?’
Callie took another breath. Mae was about to be summoned into frame. She smoothed her hands down the front of her blouse, felt the faint tremor in her fingers, and stood.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ she said.
Back Then
Callie clocked out at midnight, her shoulders aching from carrying trays and dodging drunk regulars.
She stepped outside to a half-asleep village. Life was winding down for the night. But Callie’s mind was very awake.
Mae. Sitting in the pub. With thatidiot. Smiling that weird smile that didn’t belong on her face.
Callie shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and walked fast, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She’d tried to laugh it off during her shift. Tried to tell herself she didn’t care, that Mae was allowed to do whatever she liked. But her thoughts kept circling back to the same impossible question:
