Noah and I return to the counter. ‘I never dumped you by email, Noah,’ I hiss. ‘I didn’t want us to end.’
Confusion flashes across Noah’s face.
I continue. ‘You ghosted all my letters. I can’t believe the lie you have just told that customer.’
‘Alice, you emailed me to say you’d met someone else and that it was best if we split up,’ he snapped.
My eyes grow so wide I worry they are soon going to pop out of my face. Has he been living in an alternate universe all these years? ‘That is a lie, Noah!’ The couple turn around in their seats to stare at us. ‘You were the one who ghosted me. I waited for you–’
Something flickers across Noah’s face. ‘Now you’re the one who’s lying, Alice.’
I gasp. ‘Noah, I don’t want to spend any more time listening to your bullshit.’ Grabbing an empty tray, I turn my attention to the coffee machine.
He’s breathing fast behind me. ‘You hurt me all those years ago, Alice. However, I came back and agreed to work alongside you, thinking we could put the past behind us.’
‘Please stop lying, Noah,’ I snap. ‘Also, there are customers staring at us. You’re not being professional.’
He laughs, which infuriates me. ‘You’re the one who needs to think about being professional. Have you seen our social media lately?’ He brings out his phone and shows me The Little Love Café Facebook page. On today’s post there are a slew of negative comments
@JanineKingston36: Not great service today. #LittleLoveCafé
@RuthSayer: I agree @JanineKingston36 – the manager needs to start smiling more!
@KennyRichards45: Yesterday the waitress took half an hour to make our drinks. She told us she was busy. We were the ONLY customers in there.
I read a few and turned to Noah. ‘Isolated incidents. We’ll be fine.’
‘Alice, we have received these sorts of comments every day since Frankie left. You need to change your ways and stop being so angry. To be honest, I am the one who should be cross seeing how you treated me.’
I have had enough of him, this job, his patronising tone, and his lies. Placing down the milk jug and the espresso cup, I cast him a sugary smile. ‘I quit. Have a nice life, Noah.’ I collect my handbag, swing it over my shoulder and walk towards the door.
‘Alice, you can’t leave.’
At the doorway I turn around and look at him over my shoulder. ‘Watch me.’
It takes me awhile to calm down after I storm out. I sit on a bench on the promenade for ages and watch two white sailing boats head out of Blue Cove Bay. Everything feels so jumbled with Noah. Why was he lying about what happened? He knows full well he ghosted me after leaving for Ireland. My head feels like someone has secretly turned my kaleidoscope and all the bits of coloured glass at the end are in disarray.
Someone joins me on the bench. It’s Esme. She smiles, though her eyes are puffy and pink. Joy and Esme are identical twins, and both were blessed with thick dark hair, olive skin and amazing eyelashes, the ones that don’t need mascara. Even though they dress differently Joy is insistent they still both wear their long hair down and draped over their shoulders. I have never understood why Esme lets Joy have control over her hair.
‘Hello, Alice,’ says Esme, ‘thanks for the text the other day.’
I reach over and give her hand a squeeze. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Joy wants to sell the gift shop.’
‘I heard the other evening. I’m sorry, Esme.’
‘She has a plan for us,’ sighs Esme, casting her gaze out to sea. ‘I don’t want to leave Blue Cove Bay. This is my home… but Joy…’ She stops and wipes her cheek. ‘Ignore me. Joy makes good decisions. I should have faith in her.’
She’s trembling and looks like she needs a hug. Leaning over I pull her into one. ‘Esme, it’s okay to not do what Joy wants.’
She nods and changes the subject. ‘Are you taking a break from The Little Love Café? I heard you were working there.’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve just quit.’
Esme gasps. ‘Oh dear. Are you okay?’
‘I am now. It was too much, Esme. I need a different job.’ Flicking back my hair, I dismiss the worries about not having a job and a regular wage to pay Dad back, which are pinging into my brain at an astonishing rate.
