12

The searing sunshine didn’t last long. A heavy rain cloud shuffled in front of the sun and cast its dark and miserable aura on what had been a bright and wonderful afternoon. The skies turned gray, the heavens opened, and the citizens of Abi’s small town scarpered like the ants her grandmother believed them to be.

“The British summertime is like losing your virginity,” Martha once told her. ‘You get excited. You throw on your best skimpy clothes, let your hair down and prepare for a day to remember, only to end up disappointed, wet, and annoyed thirty seconds later.’

Abi recalled those lewd but accurate words as she followed Robert down the street. Her first time had been just as miserable and short-lived as her grandmother had suggested. The old woman had been told nothing about it, of course—Abi kept all the gory and depressing details to her-self—but she had a way of knowing regardless. Call it intuition, call it experience, whatever it was, she could read Abi like a book.

Robert still had the phone pressed to his ear, but he was moving with a little more urgency now, his feet treading freshly fallen rain as he hurried down the street and slalomed the retreating sunseekers. Abi hurried past a man wrestling with a T-shirt in the doorway of a hairdresser’s, his flabby torso seared an uncomfortable shade of pink and glistening with moist sunscreen. She sidestepped a panicked woman pushing a stroller, the laughing baby enjoying the unexpected shower and reveling in the high-speed retreat, his dimpled cheeks set into a wide grin, his bright blue eyes fixed ahead, his chubby face bobbing from side to side as if on a rollercoaster.

Robert eventually ducked into a large coffee shop, followed by two giggling teenagers, keen to get out of the rain. Abi went in after them, instantly irritated by their high-pitched chatter but glad for the distraction. She watched as Robert wiped his phone on the seat of his jeans, checked the board above the counter, and then stepped into the queue. Abi and the girls ahead followed suit.

This time she was close enough to hear what Robert was saying, but every time he spoke, the two girls ahead of her, both wearing bikini tops and low-cut denim shorts, drowned him out.

“I know what I’m doing—” she heard Robert say, followed by, “Oh my God! That was insane. Did you see that?”

“It was out of nowhere! We should totally sue the makers of that app. Sunny all day, my ass.”

“Totally.”

Abi groaned, and one of the two girls turned to look at her, her features set into a scowl. If she had her grandmother’s bravado, she would have responded with a short, snappy remark, instantly putting the two girls down and silencing them. But Abi wasn’t her grandmother. She replied with a warm smile and the girl turned away, continuing her conversation.

Abi waited for her turn in the queue, growing increasingly frustrated by the inane and high-pitched chatter of the two girls but knowing that she couldn’t make a scene. Not only was she scared of confrontation, but she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself when she was just a few steps from Robert.

She told herself not to get stressed out, not to worry. Robert was in the coffee shop because he wanted to work, she reasoned. His laptop was slung over his shoulder, and he probably had very little food or drink at home. There was no furniture, either. He was there to work, she knew it, and she would watch him work and see what he was up to.

Robert finished his phone call when he reached the counter, placing his order and then dropping the phone into his pocket. He shared a laugh and a joke with the server, collected his coffee, and then sat down next to the door, brushing past Abi without so much as a glance.

The girls were next, hemming and hawing as they debated over whether to opt for hot or iced coffee, the hot and wet day seemingly confusing their usual ritual. All the while, Abi watched Robert through the mirror behind the server. He had plonked his laptop bag on the table and sat hunched over it, his coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. If he had gone there to work, he wasn’t in a hurry to get started.

The more she watched him, the more she worried. There was a table next to him, and he had his back to it, making it the perfect spot for her, but it would mean sitting within a few inches of him. She would also have to walk past him to get there, and if he looked up, her face would be just a couple feet from his.

If he recognizes me now, she thought to herself, what can I say?

Oh yes, that was me back there at the pub and I did follow you in here, but I’m not stalking you, I swear.

He’s the one that’s supposed to be stalking me, she thought, her anxiety turning into temporary amusement, and yet here I am decked out in sunglasses and a hat looking like Inspector Clouseau.

And for what? So, I can watch him work or hear him on the phone with his boss?

She laughed softly and shook her head, suddenly realizing how crazy she had been and thinking about what her grandmother would say when she told her.

“When you’re ready.”

Abi snapped out of her daydream to see that the two girls ahead of her had been served and the server was now waiting impatiently for her.

“Sorry?”

“Do you want to buy something or are you just here for the view?”

“I—I—” Abi hesitated and then stepped forward, closing the gap between her and the counter, clearing her throat. “Yes, I would like something.” She smiled warmly, but it wasn’t reciprocated.

The server looked no older than twenty. Her long blonde hair had been tied into a ponytail, pulled so tight that it fixed her with a permanent resting bitch face. Her lips taut, her eyebrows narrowed. Her arms were folded across her chest, where a low-cut top partially covered a striped apron that bore the name “Lisa.”

“Do I have to guess or are you going to tell me?” Lisa asked bitterly.

Abi felt her face getting redder and redder. It didn’t take much to fluster her, but the young, impatient server was ticking all the boxes.

“There’s a queue, miss,” Lisa said, emphasizing the word miss to sound like the hiss of a venomous snake.

Abi began fumbling around in her bag, not entirely sure what she was looking for. “I—I—”

Lisa sighed and rolled her eyes. She turned to the young male server behind her, currently frothing foam for a tall latte, and shook her head, a gesture that he returned with an eyeroll. As Abi scanned the board above the counter, she saw Lisa make a point of checking her watch before looking beyond Abi’s shoulder at the gathering queue. Abi turned herself to look and there were only two people there, both of whom didn’t seem to care about the wait and seemed more embarrassed than angry.

There was a slyness in the young girl’s eyes. She was enjoying it. Abi guessed that the story would find its way onto Instagram or TikTok by the end of the day. Abi would be transformed into a boomer or a Karen; the story told via a series of poorly spelled and massively exaggerated captions while the girl performed an irrelevant dance.

She’d flash some flesh, pout some more, and probably gain a few hundred new followers while Abi retreated to her home and proceeded to regret and overthink every aspect of the encounter.

The thought alone made her angry and embarrassed. The first caption hadn’t been typed, the idea merely a hint behind Lisa’s wry smile, but already Abi felt her skin flushing and her heart rate quickening.

“I’ll have a coffee,” Abi said eventually, composing herself just enough to avoid stumbling over her words. Lisa rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to offer another snide remark, but Abi got there before her. “Large. Black. Thank you.”

The young girl turned away, barely acknowledging the order. She whispered something to the male server and they both looked at Abi before turning back to one another and sniggering like schoolchildren.

Abi had never been bullied at school. She had never fit in, as she didn’t have many friends and didn’t feel like she belonged, but she hadn’t been targeted in any physical or emotional way. During moments like this, she often wished that she had been bullied, as that way she would have some experience, she would have toughened up, and she would be able to bite back instead of just standing there and waiting for the ground to swallow her up.

As she watched the young girl brew the coffee she had ordered, Abi caught sight of herself in the mirror and saw how red and flustered she looked. Moments earlier, she had been proud of herself for doing something daring, something that she would have typically avoided at all costs, but she had been brought back down to earth with a big wet slap on the face.

To make matters worse, she saw that the two young girls were now sitting where Robert had sat and he was nowhere to be seen.

“Three-fifty,” Lisa said abruptly, thrusting out her hand, her beady eyes, plastered with an excessive amount of blue eyeshadow, glaring at Abi.

Abi handed the girl a five, calmly took her coffee, and then left the shop with her head held low. She didn’t tell the girl to keep the change, and she certainly didn’t deserve a tip, but she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Outside the shop, she looked around for Robert, but he was nowhere to be seen. Laughter from inside caught her attention, and she looked through the window to see that Lisa was now serving someone else and was enjoying a laugh and a joke with them, as if she was the friendliest, sweetest person in the world.

“Bitch,” Abi muttered under her breath, feeling her anger return.