Our coffee cups clicked down onto the wooden table, arranged next to neat paper napkins bearing the logo Café Carnela in an artistic font. We relaxed into our chairs, tucking our shoping bags down by our feet. Elizabeth picked up a sachet of sugar, but hesitated before pouring it into her cup.
"Oh, it's so pretty," she said, looking at the patterning in the froth. "I've always wondered how they even do that."
I looked at our drinks.
"It's not that hard," I said, "I can't do the super fancy ones, but I've got the hang of this one now."
"Seriously? You're a barista?" Elizabeth made it sound as impressive as being an actual barrister.
I laughed.
"That's putting it strongly. I used to run the coffee machine sometimes at work. I worked in a café, in a garden centre."
It had suited me. Our tiny tables had been scattered out between plant displays. The hubbub of the café, the smell of jacket potatoes and coffee, blended with the peaceful, green aroma of the foliage. Being there, being surrounded by growing things but not responsible for looking after them, suited me well. That thought nagged at me slightly, but I couldn't place why.
"That's so cool. That's what you did for your gap year?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yeah. I mean, I did other stuff as well." Now that it was just me and Elizabeth, it was easier to bring it up. "Some voluntary stuff and all that."
"I thought you said you didn't go abroad?"
"You can do voluntary stuff in the UK, Elizabeth," I said, chuckling. Actually, travelling to volunteer sounded amazing to me in principle, but I couldn't get over how conceited it felt. Travelling halfway round the world to help out, with nothing to offer but my youthful enthusiasm? It felt like a hollow gesture. But at home, I had things I knew I could do, places where I knew I could make a difference, however small.
"I know, it just seems like a wasted opportunity not to travel," she said. I shrugged.
"It didn't feel wasted to me. I did a lot of stuff with this organisation I know that supports Looked After Children."
My Mum had found the organisation for me years ago, when I was barely thirteen. My parents were open with us both. Throughout our childhood, they'd never kept any secrets about how we became a family. But somehow, it took me that long to realise just how lucky I was. When I'd just tipped over into my teenage years, when I was bursting with new hormones and a ferocious desire to figure out who I was and how to make sense of my life, my Mum had taken that energy and pushed it in the best possible direction, into the lives of people like me, but less lucky.
"Looked After Children?" asked Elizabeth. Of course she asked. Everyone always asked. "Is that like, in a nursery?"
I took a sip of my coffee.
"No, not really. It means like, children who are 'looked after' by the state. If they're fostered, or in a home for whatever reason. I did a lot of peer support stuff, after school activities, that kind of thing."
"So like, adopted and all that?"
I picked up my teaspoon and began twirling it through the foam of my coffee, breaking up the residue of the pattern.
"No," I said. I was used to having to clarify these things. I was used to people asking questions, every single step of the way. So I kept things general. Explain the concepts first, introduce the personal aspects another time. That was my strategy these days. "Adopted kids have a family, their adoptive parents are their parents, so the state doesn't have to look after them anymore. Looked After Children might only be in care temporarily, or maybe they didn't get adopted."
The unlucky ones.
"Oh, you mean like Social Services?" I gave a slight nod, and Elizabeth shuddered. "I can't even imagine that. Taking little kids away from their parents? It's horrible."
I didn't respond. I raked the froth backwards and forwards in my coffee cup. I had no memories of the woman who gave birth to me, but Jason did. I thought of the hollow tone in his voice when he'd told me that some mothers, it's better not to know.
I gulped from my coffee.
"What about you?" I said. "Skiing in Italy, that must have been amazing."
"Oh, well, I didn't do much skiing," Elizabeth admitted. "I was mostly just a chambermaid, cleaning hotel rooms and that, it was pretty awful work to be honest. But I met Julia over there."
She smiled.
"Was she on her gap year there too, then?"
"No, she's one of the supervisors. She's a little bit older." She said it with a cheeky smile, and dived into a full history of her relationship with Julia. How she'd never really accepted before that she fancied girls as well as boys, how Julia had wooed her as they worked together to clean up guest bedrooms, how Julia had looked out for her when the other chambermaids weren't so nice. How she'd wanted to stay over there with Julia, but her parents had insisted she take up her deferred place at Uni. How hard it had been on Julia to let her go. The girl was in deep.
"I just hope we can make it work long distance," she finished, eyes wide and earnest.
"If it's meant to be, it'll all work out," I said, diplomatically. Elizabeth's enthusiastic nod told me that she hadn't taken the alternative meaning, 'if it's not meant to be...'
"Still, your first year at Uni," I continued. "Meeting new people all the time, wouldn't it be nice to have the option of seeing someone closer to home?"
"You mean like, in the flat?" said Elizabeth, giggling.
"Ugh, no more flatmate relationship drama, please!" I laughed. "Although, Christopher is pretty hot..."
Elizabeth's giggles escalated towards hysterics.
"One hundred per cent!" she said. "And he's such a nice guy as well. Hey, do you want me to set you guys up? I bet he likes you."
"No, God, no!" Laughing, I waved the idea away decisively. "We live together, for Christ's sake, it would be a disaster."
"You said closer to home..."
"Not that close! Besides, I said I thought he was hot, not that I wanted to go out with him."
"I bet you guys would work together," said Elizabeth, eyes gleaming.
"Drop this idea now, Elizabeth," I laughed, "I'm not in the market for a boyfriend at the moment."
Although as I said it, I thought of Callum and my antics running up to him in the library the other day. I'd never been a big one for developing crushes on guys, but apparently leaving home had triggered something in me. Or maybe charming young men at university were a cut above lanky teenage boys who hadn't yet learnt to use deodorant.
Before she could respond, Elizabeth was interrupted by her phone ringing. She took one look at it, and jumped up.
"Oh, sugar. I forgot I promised Julia we'd video call on her lunch break. I've got to go, now."
She began throwing her things together, gathering up her purchases.
"Can you not tell her you're out? Or call her later?" I asked, a little put out to have our conversation cut off.
"No, she'll be annoyed, I promised I'd be around and I completely forgot. I'm so stupid. Sorry, Ellen." She spoke in a rush, stuffing her purse into her bag. A quick hug, and a wave, and then she was diving out of the shop door, pressing her phone to her ear.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I got caught up..." I heard her saying. Half of her coffee was still undrunk, cooling on the table across from me.
I leaned back in my chair, finishing my own drink sip by sip. Elizabeth and Julia. I had a bad feeling about it. Still, I reasoned, you can't tell someone you've only just met that you think it's weird how their girlfriend is controlling their life from afar. I had to hope that time, and distance from the amazing Julia, would start to balance things out for Elizabeth.
My coffee done, I headed back out to wander round the shops some more. I started by going back to the shop with the blue dress. I had a plan of my own about that, and it involved two fingers up to Julia and the clothes she would and wouldn't approve of. Then I meandered up the street, winding up in the book shop. That was a punishment as much as a pleasure, because I couldn't buy half the books I wanted to. When I got tired of arguing with myself over which ones were worth the price and the space on my tiny shelf, I paid up and made my way back to the flat.
I traipsed up the stairs again, weighed down by a few extra bags. The shops were cool, and very convenient, but if I wanted to go there often, I was going to need to find a job that I could fit in around my studies. This time, the corridor was empty, and I slipped straight into my room. From next door came the muffled sounds of Elizabeth on the phone. As I laid my new things out on the bed, I strained to hear what she might be saying, but of course I couldn't make it out.
I slotted my books onto my bookshelf, and clothes onto hangers. I'd eventually found a forest green sheath dress with a cute belt to wear tonight. I thought it would look alright with the pumps Elizabeth had found for me. There was a large shoe box kicked underneath my desk at the back, and I got down on my hands and knees to drag it out. Hopefully I could squeeze my new pair in there, in keeping with my ongoing attempts to maintain an organised bedroom.
I pulled the shoe box into the middle of the carpet. It seemed a bit heavy for holding a pair of shoes. Something I hadn't finished unpacking yet? My system hadn't been the most orderly. I'd ended up working at a couple of bits each day, amazed by the quantity of stuff one person needed. This would be more stationary, or perhaps some extra mugs.
I flicked the lid off the box and my heart sank. Inside were all five of the plants Sophie had gifted to me over the last few years. Dead.
So, a little bit more of Ellen's background for you here. Interesting?
Also, what do you guys think of adding pictures to illustrate stories on here? When I describe clothes etc, I normally have a vision in my head and then look up an image to make sure that something like it exists. Do you prefer to imagine it, or would you like to see a picture?
Thanks for reading and have a nice day all!