Brew Books

Chapter 19

I'm dreaming of two boys in Manchester United jerseys. They're sitting together on the bottom bunk in the bedroom they share. There are posters of football players on the wall, lego built into the shape of Star Wars ships displayed with pride on the dresser, and a carpet strewn with plastic racing cars. The brunet boy is crying, while the redhead boy sits with his arm around his brother.

'They're not really going to make you go,' the redhead says wisely. 'They're not going to split us up.'

'They already got me uniforms,' the brunet says, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jersey.

'But maybe we can both go,' the redhead says. 'I'll come with you. We can both go to boarding school.'

'Don't be stupid,' the brunet snaps. 'You can't go to that school.'

'Well neither can you!' the redhead cries. 'I won't let you!'

A phone starts ringing, somewhere, and both of the boys look around, startled. The brunet boy wipes tears from his eyes, and as he glances around I swear he looks straight into my eyes, with some kind of knowing.

And then I wake up to my alarm, feeling panicked about the intensity of that little boy's stare. I turn off my alarm and open my curtains to reveal a dark night. Not even a red glow to suggest that the sun's about to rise. My head hurts.

As always, Ed's beaten me downstairs and he's busy setting out the display of muffins and pastries. I take over from him while he starts up the coffee machine.

I'm arranging the pain au chocolats when Ed says, 'vanilla latte,' and hands me a coffee, with a fern artwork in the milk.

'Thanks,' I say, looking up at Ed and smiling.

He leans against the opposite counter and holds his coffee with both hands. His brown barista apron covers the orange paisley shirt he's wearing, and his hair is messier than usual this morning.

'I've got you rostered on for Sunday morning,' Ed says. 'It's only a four hour shift, but I need you bright-eyed, okay? We're supposed to be going to Kitty's friend's DJ set after the bar closes on Saturday, but I'll probably come home no later than two. You can come with me if you want.'

'Yeah, probably a good idea,' I say. 'Who else is working on Sunday morning?'

'Just us,' Ed admits. 'It's not ideal. But Kitty's worked too much overtime lately, and Harper and the girls can't do a back-to-back shift with bar work on Saturday night. And Will's got the afternoon shift.'

'Lucky I like working with you,' I say, grinning. 'As long as you keep making me coffee.'

'Deal,' Ed says, smiling back. He gives the store one last glance over and then turns on the front lights, opens the blind, and unlocks the front door. It's only five minutes until our first customers arrive, requesting double strength lattes. It's one of those days for everyone, it seems.

A few hours into the shift, when the sun is finally up and most of the commuter rush has died down, Charlotte walks into the café. I think this is the earliest I've seen her up in the morning. Her cherry red hair is tied back into a half-ponytail, out of her face. She looks fresh-faced, and she's wearing a simple black shift dress, with her unseasonably-tanned knees showing above black suede boots.

'Babes, can I get a flat white?' Charlotte says to me, without saying good morning. Ed is under the counter, wiping up sugar he spilt when refilling the jars.

'Sure, babes,' I say, in a tone I didn't mean to sound mocking, but comes out as such.

Charlotte makes herself at home on one of the sofas and opens her laptop. I make her the coffee, conscious that I'm not going to be able to create fancy latte art like she's apparently so good at. I take it over to her, and see she's looking through street style photos online.

'Thanks babes, you're too sweet,' Charlotte says. 'But sorry, it's my fault, I totally should have said. I don't drink cow's milk. There's almond milk in the fridge.'

'I know where the almond milk is,' I say, snatching up her coffee again. I dump it down the sink, furious, and pour another shot of espresso.

'Ed, help,' I hiss at him. 'How on earth do I froth almond milk?'

Ed looks up, and then stands up and looks over at Charlotte. 'Oh, okay, I'll make it.'

'No, it's fine, you can teach me,' I say.

'Trust me,' Ed says quietly. 'No matter how well you make her drink, she's going to complain about it. You'll save us all a lot of time if you just let me do it.'

I'm offended, but watch Ed make the coffee and then take it over to Charlotte, who gives him a grin and resumes looking through photos on her computer.

'Does she do this often?' I ask Ed. 'She's literally just sitting there looking at fashion photos. Couldn't she do that upstairs?'

'Sometimes Harper distracts her,' Ed says. 'She doesn't really have enough room in her bedroom to work.'

'Work?' I laugh. 'She's probably planning her outfits for the next week.'

Ed shrugs. 'Yeah, something like that.'

I roll my eyes, sneaking a glance over at Charlotte. She's got a focused expression on her face, as if scrolling through fashion blogs is hard work.

'Jane, I need you,' Ed snaps, and I realise there's a customer waiting for his ham and cheese croissant to be toasted.

Kitty's been in the back all morning, pulling out stock for the bookshelves and helping customers. But as I'm busy toasting croissants, I see Kitty leave her work and sit down on the sofa next to Charlotte. Charlotte smiles, and the two of them start chatting about something that's on the laptop.

I don't get it. Here's Charlotte, with her fake tan and her attitude, caring way too much about fashion. And my childhood best friend Kitty, who never gave a shit about clothes, or makeup, sucking up to the queen bitch. It doesn't make sense. Kitty never sucks up to anyone. When I became popular in school, she didn't care. She didn't even try to get in with my popular group, even though she would have been so much more well-liked at school if she was in my group of friends. So why does she want to be Charlotte's friend?

I'm almost finished my shift when Harper comes down into the coffee shop. He says hi to Charlotte and Kitty, who are both still on the sofa, and then lands in front of me, his whole face split into a smug grin.

'Morning, sunshine,' I say.

Ed wordlessly hands him a coffee, but Harper doesn't take his eyes off me.

'I've got it,' Harper says. 'Your favourite book.'

I'd almost forgotten about our little game, so I smile that he remembered.

'Breakfast at Tiffany's,' Harper says, grabbing a croissant off the display. He holds it up and arranges his hands as if he's smoking a cigarette from a long cigarette holder. He puts on a face - the same expression Audrey Hepburn has in the movie - as he pensively eats the croissant while staring into an imaginary Tiffany's window display above my head.

I laugh. 'Good guess, but no.'

'That's my favourite movie,' Charlotte says.

I glance over at it. 'Then it's definitely not mine,' I smirk. 'Better luck next time, Harper.'

'Urgh, fine,' Harper says. 'What's your guess?'

I bite my lip, looking him up and down one more time. His long messy hair, his stubble, his jeans and black bomber jacket.

'Lord of the Flies,' I say.

Harper cocks his head to the side, almost as if he's considering my answer. Then he takes another bite of his croissant and says, 'Sorry, Holly Golightly. Not today.'

And with that he's out. I watch him crossing the street, coffee and croissant in hand.

• Author's Note •

Hi lovely Brew Books readers! I hope you're enjoying this book. Now tell me, do you have any ships in this novel so far? And another question for you...

What's your favourite season? Summer, autumn, winter, spring?

Thanks for voting before you go to the next chapter!

elle xx