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“Hey, how are ya?”
“Not too bad, not too bad.”
Ella lifted her eyes from the till and looked at the customer in front of her, and had to tell herself to close her mouth. His green eyes were staring intensely at her, and her eyes travelled to his lips - hypnotising. She realised he had said something, and she gave a little gulp. “Sorry I missed that.”
“I just asked how you are.” The man grinned, and Ella grinned back. His smile was contagious.
“I’m really quite alright,” she said. “Really not too bad at all. Um… what can I get you?”
“An oat latte thanks. Large.”
“Was that takeaway?”
The man looked intensely at her and Ella didn’t dare to look away. “Have here,” he said, and she swallowed and punched his order into the till.
“Five fifty,” she said, and as he tapped his card on the till – “Would you like to start a card?”
“I’d love to,” the man said. “This is a nice place, how long have you guys been open?”
“A couple of years,” returned Ella. Something about this man was making her shakey; or maybe it was just almost eleven and she hadn’t eaten. She carefully punched two holes in the loyalty card, and held it out to him.
“Just you working today?”
“Yeah, just me. It’s normally just me,” Ella said cheerfully. “And another girl on the weekends. But it’s just a little place, more staff probably wouldn’t fit behind the counter.”
The man smiled. “Well, I’ll have to make sure I come back, won’t I!”
“Looking forward to it,” smiled Ella, trying to sound as if her hands weren’t shaking desperately as she finalised the order on the till. “Take a seat wherever you like.”
The man turned and sat down on one of the crates that slid under the long window seat. It was just a little café, with only four places to sit inside, but several little tables and chairs outside on the sidewalk offering a much more spacious seating arrangement.
It was not lost on Ella that the man had taken the seat with the best view of the coffee machine.
Ella snuck glances at him as she steamed the milk; one eye on the pouring espresso, her fingers carefully feeling the temperature of the jug. He was very well dressed; a button up white shirt and dark green chinos that matched his eyes. His clothes didn’t look like they should belong in this part of town, where there were more drug deals than correctly filed tax returns. His brown, long-pointed shoes looked clean and polished, and his hair was dark and curly, and his eyes –
She blushed fiercely as they made eye contact. She cursed mentally, and closed the steam wand with an aggressive twist, before giving it the best wipe of its life with the rag.
Ella held her breath as she glided the jug above the milk. With a flourish, she put it down and carefully placed the full mug of coffee onto a saucer; she smiled to herself, congratulating herself on the perfect swan that she had just painted. With oat milk, too. Not bad. Slowly, she carried it to the table.
“One oat latte!” she said cheerfully, placing it carefully in front of him.
“Thank you,” said the man. “If it’s not too much, what should I call you?”
“Ella,” she said without thinking.
“Ella,” said the man. “It’s Kit.”
“Nice to meet you Kit, I hope you enjoy your coffee,” said Ella, trying desperately to retain her customer service voice and falling somewhat short.
She somehow, rather awkwardly, made her way back to the safety of the counter. Customers trickled in, mostly ordering takeaway coffees, and Ella served them cheerfully. The bench got the best clean of its life, and the drinks cabinet was restocked three times (although it really didn’t need it).
At last, Kit rose – depositing his phone back in his pocket.
“Thank you for the coffee,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Ella nodded, and said “Thanks, I’ll see you then!” in a way that sounded insincere to her – she hadn’t meant to make it sound like that – oh what was she doing?
He was nodding and smiling at her, with his gentle smile, and then he had left, and the door closed shut, and Ella wanted to dance and jump and lie down all at once. Quickly, she ducked into the staff door, and past the store room into the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, she cursed.
There was a huge coffee mark on her cheek. It was as obvious as a coffee mark on the cheek could be; she must have absentmindedly wiped her face and left it there earlier. Who knows how long it had been there for. He had definitely seen it.
No wonder he was laughing at you. Ella cursed as she scrubbed at her skin aggressively. Why did life have to be so darn stupid?
///
Kit started to come in every weekday, Monday to Friday, ordering a takeaway coffee at twelve past six in the morning precisely. At first, Ella was surprised that he was up so early; the coffee shop opened at five but she normally only got tradies through the front door until at least seven. However, she soon got used to it, and found herself looking forward to his smiles and his good-mornings and his how-did-you-sleep-last-night-ella’s.
Ella learned to ignore the shaking in her stomach when he opened the door, and soon lost her customer service voice when she spoke to him. She learned that he had a golden spaniel that he took on walks at five am. She learned that he lived in a suburb twenty minutes away – it was a suburb well known as being very, very well off, so she figured that made sense – and she learned that he owned at least nineteen pairs of cufflinks (but she definitely wasn’t counting, of course.). She learned that he stopped in at her coffee shop because “she steamed the best oat milk this side of the river”, and besides, it was on his way to work. She learned that he worked somewhere in the city, and he did some sort of vague city job, and he didn’t like talking about it, as he tended to evade her questions of what he actually did for work.
She learned that he would often pay ahead coffees for other customers. She learned that he would ask for an extra shot in his coffee every Monday (and eventually he stopped asking, because he knew she would put it in anyway).
She learned, through snippets of morning conversation with him, that he was someone who, if she was born into happier times, would like very much to be good friends with.
She compensated for this by doing heart latte art on his coffee every morning. He wouldn’t know, of course, as she put the lid on too quickly, and she always carried it outside to him if there wasn’t a line. (there rarely was, at a quarter past six in the morning.)
Then he would thank her, and say goodbye, and their fingers would brush as he took his coffee, and her heart would flutter, and she would hurry inside and busy herself with cleaning tables or serving customers and smashing out coffee orders.
Sometimes she would catch herself smiling into the shiny reflection of the milk fridge. Then she would clean it harder and roll her eyes at herself.
///
Kit never visited the café on the weekends. For this, Ella was thankful. They were the busiest days of the week by far, and she didn’t know that she could cope with the distraction of his green eyes watching her every move.
Thankfully, Anna joined her on Saturday and Sunday mornings, often staying back till two if she had to. They ran a breakfast menu – just small things, bacon and eggs cooked on their little grill, and avocado toast – and the both of them had developed and perfected their systems so well that they could cope with a line out the door, without batting an eyelid. The only factor that they hadn’t perfected was where to fit in the dishes, but that’s hospitality for you.
Ella liked Anna. She was a design student at a Uni in the city, and she had shaved her head earlier that year, dyeing it in what felt like a new colour every week. She had a nose ring and more earrings than the health inspector would have approved of, but she was steady on her feet, and Ella knew she could cope in any stressful situation. She didn’t make coffee, but that suited Ella fine, as she much preferred the coffee machine.
Ella hummed to herself as she poured yet another cappuccino, chucking on the lid and yelling, “Order for Jay!”
She nodded to the man taking his coffee, and glanced at the next ticket.
An oat latte. For Kit.
Oh dear.
She chucked a shot on, while glancing around the café, searching – and there he was. Standing in the corner. Arms folded.
Staring straight at her.
She quickly steamed the milk, just the temperature she knew he liked it, and poured his coffee. No time for a heart in the rush. “Order for –“
He was taking it away from her before she could finish. “You work too much,” he said. “Plans for your day off?”
“Um… I’m working tomorrow,” said Ella. “I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Please tell me you’re not working seven days this week, Ella…”
“It is what it is,” she shrugged. “I’ll see you.” She didn’t have time for this; seizing the next couple of tickets, she started to throw them together.
Glancing up, she saw he had disappeared.
Ella bit her lip and threw on a large jug of full cream. Hopefully she would see him on Monday.
///
“I think we’ll have to let her go,” the Stepmother was saying. “I just don’t know how we can do it.”
Ella knew this was not true. There was no way that they could not afford Anna. The café was as busy as it had ever been. But she bit her lip and held her tongue, and then said, slowly: “Stepmother, weekends are the busiest days of the week. If we do not keep Anna then I won’t be able to cope. I can’t work those days by myself.”
Stepmother slammed her hand down on the bill covered table. Ella jumped, her heart leaping to her throat. Deep breaths.
“What I say goes,” said Stepmother, softly.
“Stepmother –“
“If I say we can’t afford her, then we cannot afford her.”
Ella was silent. She kept her eyes on her feet. Her boots were cracked. She knew that if she stepped the wrong way the sole would flip off.
“Unless…”
Ella glanced up. Her Stepmother’s eyes were sparkling. Never a good sign.
“I’ll just take her pay out of yours.”
Ella frowned. “You don’t pay me. How does that –“
“I beg your pardon?”
Ella bit her lips. Hard. Maybe if she wished hard enough the ground would swallow her up and she could float away, back downstairs to her room, by herself.
Her Stepmother looked back down at the bills, picking them up and carefully placing them into a neat pile. Each letter carefully folded. “After everything we do for you,” she muttered. “After everything we do.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Ella.
“I didn’t catch that.”
“I’m sorry.” Louder this time, desperately trying to sound genuine.
“From now on,” said Stepmother, “From now on, you bring all the tips to me.”
Ella kept her eyes on the floor. The tips were the only way she had bought things she needed – toothpaste, new underwear, the deodorant. She was trying to save for new shoes. “But –“
“From now on, when you need something, you ask me,” her Stepmother said. Her long fingers were folding up the last letter. Crisp and sharp.
“Stepmother,” said Ella, forcing the words out of her mouth, “it’s just that I’m saving for shoes, and I know they’re expensive – “
“You have shoes, don’t you?” Her Stepmother looked at Ella then, glancing at her shoes. “What is on your feet?”
“Yes, but –“
“Don’t contradict me.” Her voice was becoming sharp, exasperated. “What is on your feet?”
“Shoes,” Ella whispered.
“Then why on earth do you need new ones? It’s clear you don’t know how to spend your money. It’s better you let me look after you. You are incompetent. Don’t know how to look after yourself. Just like your father.”
Ella kept her head down. Once she would have been trying desperately to keep the emotions from rising. Nowadays she was empty.
“Are we finished here?” The Stepmother said.
“Yes Ma’am.”
“You know I do this for your good, don’t you my darling?”
A pause. “Yes Ma’am.”
“Don’t you?”
“I know, Stepmother.”
“Good.”
“Stepmother – “
“What?”
“Can Anna stay?” Ella forced the words out of her mouth, and held her breath.
The Stepmother sighed. A great big sigh. “Yes, she can stay,” she said finally. “But the tips come to me. And if you need anything, I’m right here. All you need to do is ask. Is that understood?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Come here. Come kiss me better.”
Ella slowly walked to her Stepmother, who was putting the pile of bills in the table’s drawer. She gently kissed her Stepmother on the cheek.
“Off you go now. Go sort yourself out.” The woman flicked through the bills, and Ella knew she was dismissed.
She washed her cheeks in the bathroom, trying to return some feeling to her brain. Her hands were shaking, but she ignored it. She gave her face a nod in the mirror, and tiptoed out of the bathroom, and down the two flights of stairs, out of the house into the back rooms of the café.
She made double sure the front door of the café was closed and locked for the night; all the blinds were down, and the fridges were properly closed, and the grill was off. Then she crept back behind the counter, through the staff door.
Instead of going up the stairs into the main house, where her Stepmother and her sisters were starting to relax in front of the television for a relaxing evening, Ella ducked into the storeroom. She spread out her yoga mat from its spot behind the door, and nibbled at the stale croissant she’d saved for her dinner. The slower she ate, the longer it lasted, and the more she convinced her mind that her stomach was full. (She had figured out this sweet trick from old ww2 films that she had used to watch on the café’s ipad; before her Stepmother realised what she was doing and had reduced the shop’s till to one that looked like it had been made in the 80s.)
Ella switched off the storeroom light, and curled into a ball.
And she tried not to cry. She really did.
Crying rarely, if ever, helped her situations. They would always be exactly the same in the morning.
But something broke in Ella that night. She gave in, and let herself cry herself to sleep.
///
“You’re a bit off today Ella,” commented Anna the next day, on one of their rare quiet moments as they wiped dishes together. “You right?”
“Never better,” said Ella, forcing a smile.
“Don’t you dare use your hospitality voice on me, miss.” Anna waved the teaspoon she was holding threateningly. “I view that as an insult.”
Ella laughed then. “Just didn’t get much sleep.”
“You better get a day off tomorrow my love,” said Anna. “You need a good rest.”
Ella didn’t say anything, instead answering with a shrug. Anna always assumed that Ella had Mondays and Tuesdays off, and Ella had simply never corrected her. She didn’t need both her and Kit on her back. At least Kit thought that working seven out of seven days was an anomaly, instead of Ella’s very life.
The bell rang, and the two of them suppressed a sigh as they turned to the front of the shop, ready to face the next customer.
Ella almost dropped her tea towel.
It was Kit.
He frowned, making eye contact, and strode to the counter. “I thought you were taking the day off?”
“Na, she always works weekends with me,” laughed Anna.
“It’s all good, Kit,” said Ella quickly, shaking her head at him. Read my mind, she begged with her eyes. “It’s okay Anna, I’ve got this order.”
Anna shrugged, and went back to the sink.
Kit frowned.
“Just a coffee today Kit?”
“A coffee and a promise.”
“I don’t make promises to just about anyone,” said Ella. “It’d better be worth my while.”
“Promise me you don’t work seven days every week.”
“As I said,” said Ella, gulping, “I don’t make promises to just about anyone.”
“Ella,” said Kit, and he sighed. “You can’t do this. It’s not right. Hell, it’s illegal. We all need days off.”
“Well, what about you?” returned Ella, despite herself. “I’m guessing you’re heading into work today? I thought it was your weekend?”
“Actually,” said Kit, and he looked her in the eyes, “I came in to make sure you weren’t here.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” she said quietly. “But …”
“I’m sorry,” said Kit. “I know it’s none of my business. But I worry.”
His eyes were sorrowful, and she couldn’t bear to look at them. “Coffee’s on the house today,” she said decidedly. “Put it away.”
“I’m paying.”
“Just take this one, please?”
“Fine,” he said, “But only if you clip a free one.”
“Fine,” said Ella, and clipped his loyalty card for him. He still had three coffees away before he was meant to get the free coffee, but she couldn’t do any less.
Instead of going to stand outside, like he normally did, he followed her to the coffee machine, and watched her. She tried to will her hands to stop shaking as she quickly made his coffee. She poured it, slowly, gently watching the milk.
“Nice art,” said Kit. Ella felt her ears going red as she pushed on his lid, quickly concealing the heart she had made, out of habit.
“All in a day’s work!” Oh goodness, you sound like a cheerful idiot.
“What time do you get off?” Kit said suddenly.
Ella almost dropped his coffee. “Sorry?”
Kit almost looked sheepish. “I mean, I understand if you’ll be too tired –“
“Five,” said Ella. “I get off at five.”
“I’ll see you then, Ella.” Kit took his coffee from her. Their fingers brushed. He left the café without a backward glance and the door jingled cheerfully.
Anna was at Ella’s side immediately. “Did I just hear. What I think. I heard.” Ella laughed, and Anna shrieked. “Details! Everything! Right now! To hell with the dishes!”
To hell with the consequences, thought Ella.
///
He was waiting for her outside as she locked the front door. “How was your afternoon?” he asked.
“Not too bad. Just busy getting things clean. Sorry I’m a little late.” She wiped her palms on her skirt; it was the only dress she owned, a faded blue and with carefully hemmed frayed ends; but she rather preferred wearing the dress than her work clothes. Or her pyjamas.
“It’s okay,” Kit grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Was honoured to get the opportunity to help you put the tables inside. Come on, car’s this way.”
Ella wished he would walk faster; the windows above the café were dark, but she knew her Stepmother was up there, her eyes seeing everything.
Then she shook herself. She would deal with the consequences later.
She stopped in her tracks, realising that Kit was several steps behind her. He was laughing at her. “This one’s mine,” he said, opening the door of a low black car. Ella knew next to nothing about cars, but she knew that this one must be expensive. “You alright if we go for dinner?”
“Dinner? I thought this was a sunset stroll,” laughed Ella.
“I’ll have you back soon,” said Kit. “Just thought you deserve a dinner after the week you’ve had. But I understand if it’s uncomfortable getting in a car with a stranger. We could walk somewhere, if you’d prefer…”
“You’re not a stranger,” said Ella. She looked into his eyes, and felt as safe as she’d ever felt. She looked at him, and he looked at her, until Ella grew flustered and quickly ducked her head into the car.
“It’s like a hotel in here!” she laughed. Or at least what she imagined a hotel to be like.
“Not too bad, hey?” Kit got into the front seat and started the engine. “I hope you’re feeling hungry.”
“Always,” said Ella cheerfully, as they sped away, leaving the café behind.
It was further through the city than she’d been in years; not since she’d moved here, ten years old, quiet and scared and alone in a new city with her new family. She stared out the window as they drove over the river; the sun was starting to caress the horizon, and the rays reflected on the water in beautiful ways.
“You alright, Ella?” Kit’s voice was gentle.
“Not too bad,” said Ella. Her voice was little more than a whisper as she took in the view of the bridge and the glowing river. “Not too bad at all.”
They parked in an underground carpark not far from the bridge, nestled in the tall buildings of the city. Ella grew quiet as they left the carpark, and, walking next to Kit, felt terribly, awfully underdressed. She was painfully aware of her broken boots and patched dress that didn’t look anything like the dresses of the ladies they were passing.
She gave a small gasp as she felt Kit’s hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her through the street and manoeuvring past the crowds of people leaving the city for the day. “This way,” he said, guiding her up a flight of steps.
Ella had never imagined such a fancy restaurant. Their table was on the edge of a balcony that overlooked the river. The waiters wore suits with crisply ironed shirts, and the menu was a book instead of a piece of paper – and half of it was in other languages. “I’m not sure what I want, sorry,” she said, glancing at Kit.
He was staring at her, intensely, with his deep green eyes.
Her eyes quickly looked back down at the menu. She held her breath as he leaned across the table and gently closed her menu. “It’s alright,” he said. “Have you had paella before?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Let’s share one.” He beckoned the waiter over.
They soon lost themselves in conversation –
He told her about his family, his mother and his father and his sister, and the way they shared a nose and a loud sense of humour. He told her that he wanted her to meet his dog, and he should bring her in to the café sometime. He told her that his work had been tiresome of late and part of him wanted to run away and join a pirates crew so he didn’t have to bother with office work. He was laughing as he said this but Ella knew his frustration was real.
Ella told him of her father; of the way he had taught her to love books and old movies. She told him how her mother had taught her how to brew her tea properly and had let her start drinking coffee when her father wasn’t looking. She whispered of how she had lost them when she was young and had moved in with her stepmother; her father’s old wife from before he had remarried.
“I’m sorry,” said Kit gently. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
“Don’t be,” said Ella. “They lived full lives.”
She told him of her love for wildflowers and the colour green. (She blushed when she said that and quickly changed the subject.) He told her how he loved jet skiing. She told him that she’d never been but loved the feeling of cycling down hills with the wind in her hair. He told her he’d never learned to ride a bike. She told him he’d have to learn. He asked if she would teach her how to ride a bike if she let him take her on her first jet ski ride. She smiled and agreed.
He asked her how old she was. “A lady doesn’t reveal her age,” she quipped.
“Neither does a gentleman,” he returned. “I’m twenty four.”
“Twenty,” she said, with a smile.
The conversation lulled around their food. The seafood paella was everything that good food should be; full of flavour, and needing attention to eat and enjoy well. Their forks danced around the big platter, carefully moving around each other. Sometimes their forks tapped and they would laugh and share the big prawns.
(Ella hadn’t had seafood in years. She had forgotten how much she loved it.)
Ella lost herself in the view of the river. The sun was disappearing below the horizon, twilight joining in the evening’s dance. Light danced over the river. When she was younger, she had used to imagine she was a dolphin, dancing through the waves of the Ocean. She was older now and such things were silly, but there was still part of her that wanted to be there, dancing through the water, letting it wash her life away.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“It is,” said Kit. She looked at him – he was looking at her again, with those intense eyes.
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “I really appreciate this,” she said. “This is the best night I’ve had in a long time.”
“It has been a pleasure, Ella.”
Kit reached out, and seized Ella’s hand. She stopped breathing. Maybe her heart stopped too; she wasn’t sure.
“It really has been. A pleasure, I mean.”
“I really loved this.”
“Me too.”
Was Kit flustered? Ella wondered. “We should do this again,” she said shyly. “If you like.”
“Let’s go,” said Kit. “I want to show you something.”
He didn’t let go of her hand as he paid for their meal, and as they walked down the stairs of the restaurant, and as they walked the streets of the city. He showed her his offices, pointing out his window in the tall building. They walked through the city’s gardens, and ate late night icecream while listening to buskers playing violins in the middle of the square.
And, sitting on a bench overlooking the river – Kit kissed her.
Ella had never been kissed by a man.
It was slow, lingering, gentle. Intense.
His fingers swept her cheek. Ella looked deep into his eyes. There was nothing but safety there; something like love …
She pulled away,
“Sorry,” said Kit. “Was that too much?”
“It’s okay,” said Ella. She smiled at him. “It’s okay.”
“It was okay,” said Kit. And his hand returned to gently stroke her cheek, the other arm round her shoulders, his hand holding her close. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Ella,” he said quietly.
Ella did not believe him. She knew Kit was rich. He had hundreds of girls at his disposal; girls like the ones who wandered her suburb and who her Stepmother always threatened to turn her into.
“I’m telling the truth,” he said, as if to read her thoughts. “You are so kind and gentle. I’ve never met someone who looks at the world with such joy as you do. Who wakes up every morning as if their job is to bring other people joy.”
Ella just looked back at him, trying to search his eyes. She saw no falsehood in them. Perhaps he did believe what he was saying. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
Kit kissed her again, low and long and soft. He pulled her in, closer to him, and Ella felt herself melt into him. She wanted to know this man, she realised, as his tongue explored hers; she wanted to know him better than anyone else in the world. She wanted to know his secrets and bring him joy.
They left eventually, giggling at the late hour – it was half eleven – and driving back through the city. Kit’s hand was comfortably on Ella’s thigh as he drove one-handed, and she watched as the lights flickered by.
A dread – or a knot, or something awful – was slowly growing in the pit of her stomach. She bit her lip and squeezed Kit’s hand. He squeezed back. At least she would have him. Whatever her Stepmother said, or did, it would be okay – Kit would be there.
“I forgot to ask,” said Kit. “Sorry, I was distracted –“
“Ask what?”
“Where do I drop you off?” he laughed, slowing the car to a stop for a red light. “We’re almost at the café.”
“Oh.” Ella smiled. “I live upstairs. It’s okay.”
She could feel Kit glancing at her, but she looked straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. Then he said: “You’re not working tomorrow, are you?”
“I always work the Monday shift. You know that.”
“Ella …” Kit took his hand from Ella’s thigh and ran his fingers through his hair. She could sense his frustration but folded her hands in her lap decisively. “You can’t work as much as you do. And you live there too? What kind of working situation is this? You don’t need to work that much, surely!”
Ella pursed her lips.
“Ella, talk to me! What’s your boss like? Surely they can hire someone else? I can talk to them for you, really, this is ridiculous –“
“No,” cried Ella, interrupting Kit and surprising even herself. “No,” she repeated. “Really. It’s okay.”
“It’s very much not okay, Ella.”
“You don’t know my situation,” said Ella. “You don’t know what’s going on.”
“Well tell me then! I’m listening!”
“No you’re not!” cried Ella. “And you’ve passed it!”
Kit bought the car to a screeching halt. They had just passed the café. He quickly parked the car in the kerb, and Ella unbuckled herself hurriedly.
“Hang on,” he said, “Hang on, I’ll get the door.”
“No,” said Ella. “It’s okay.”
She got out of the car, and slammed it closed, before hurrying to the front door and unlocking it quickly. She refused to look behind her, but she could feel Kit’s eyes boring into her back.
She got the door open (finally) and closed it behind her, locking it from the inside. The café was warm and dark, leftover heat from the day’s work.
Ella breathed a sigh of relief – then cursed. Why had she spoken like that! And she hadn’t even said thank you!
She turned around to rush back.
And the lights flickered on.
Ella froze.
“Where have you been.”
Ella closed her eyes.
“Upstairs. Now.”
Ella followed her Stepmother upstairs, dragging her feet. She wondered if she should pray or make a wish or something. But her heart was too weary to even try.
She followed her Stepmother into her bedroom – it was small, but well furnished, with a double bed and chest of drawers, and several pictures on the wall. It had always been Ella’s least favourite room in the house.
Her Stepmother was cold. “Answer me,” she whispered, in a voice as cold as ice.
“I’m … I’m sorry …”
The Stepmother slapped her across the face.
She had not hurt Ella in years. The shock of it made Ella reel into the café counter, feeling more surprise than pain.
“You forget whose you are.”
Her Stepmother seized her neck and launched at it, sucking on it with her mouth, pushing Ella into the counter, unable to fight back.
Then, as soon as she had begun, she left, storming up the stairs and slamming a distant door shut with a bang.
Ella let out a sob, looking down at her shoes. Maybe she should have stayed in the city.
///
Ella’s alarm clock sounded – four thirty in the morning – and she forced herself to lift her head. She hadn’t slept a wink.
She dragged herself out of bed and crept into the bathroom. She examined herself in the mirror.
Her neck – a large hickey. Black and purple. Throbbing in the light of bathroom light. It wouldn’t start to fade for at least a week. Plain as day. For everyone to see. Ella didn’t own any makeup, but even if she did she doubted it would make much of a difference.
Her Stepmother hadn’t hurt her since her father’s funeral. She had never made her so angry. Ella supposed that what she had done had been wrong, but she didn’t feel as bad about it as she should.
Sighing at herself, Ella quickly showered and brushed her teeth, throwing on her work clothes and pulling on her broken boots. Giving herself one final sigh in the mirror (a big huff, as if to accept her fate), she quietly closed the bathroom door and started to open up the café.
The tradies that always came in every morning were some of her nicest customers; many of them had families and businesses of their own, and she always enjoyed a morning chat with most of them. But this morning, they avoided her gaze, and she could feel them staring when she wasn’t looking. A couple of the more rowdy ones asked her if it had been a wild night. Ella kept her head down and made their coffees quickly. When the early rush had finished, Ella nibbled on a piece of sourdough and sipped her first coffee of the day. She decided that the best way to get through the next few weeks would be to avoid any unnecessary conversation and pray that the hickey was faded by the time she had to work with Anna again – not that Anna would care that much. Anna had often worked with lovebites, although she at least had the good sense to attempt to cover them with makeup. Ella cursed the fact that she had always been forbidden makeup. She briefly considered sneaking upstairs to steal some, but quickly changed her mind, the memories of last night playing in her vision. It would be too soon.
“Good morning.” The familiar voice was cheerful as the door opened loudly. Ella cursed under her breath. “I know we ended things weirdly last night, but I just wanted to apologise and –“
Kit stopped suddenly. He was holding a small spray of flowers; white wildflowers mixed with native leaves.
But Ella could feel him staring at her, his mouth gaping, and she tried desperately hard not to burst into tears. “I’m sorry too,” she said quietly. “I was really rude and I shouldn’t have left like that.”
“It’s fine.” His voice was cold.
“No it’s not,” she said. “I was rude. Can you forgive me?” And stop staring, she thought. She saw Kit close his mouth rather decisively.
“I don’t remember being so rough,” he said quietly.
“It wasn’t you,” whispered Ella. “You didn’t do it.” Oh please, please understand…
Kit did not understand. He very clearly was extremely confused. “On second thoughts,” he said, “I think I’ll get my coffee somewhere else this morning.”
“Kit …”
“Goodbye, Ella.” Kit closed the door roughly behind him, leaving Ella standing there, staring after him.
Her eyes travelled to the floor. There – a single white flower. It had dropped from the spray. She picked it up, breathed it in – she felt sure he had picked them himself that morning, on the walk through the national park that he had gone on with his spaniel. She wanted to run after him.
But she knew it was no use.
He was gone.
Ella spent the rest of the day keeping her head down and quietly serving customers. Her body ached, and sometimes she had to sit down with her head between her knees and remind herself to breath. She avoided eye contact and made her coffees as fast as was humanly possible. The little flower sat under the till, her fingers brushing against it whenever she opened it.
Finally, five o’clock rolled around, and Ella closed the shop. She slowly swept the floor, stacked the outdoor chairs inside, and closed the blinds. She did not want to go upstairs. But she knew she had to; had to take her earnings up to her Stepmother.
She crept upstairs. One step at a time, forcing her feet to walk.
Her Stepmother was sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone. “Ahh, Ella.”
Ella swallowed. “Here’s the cash.” She held it out.
“You know, Ella,” said her Stepmother, “You’re a lot more trouble than you’re worth.”
Ella’s arm started to shake; from anticipation or fear, she wasn’t sure.
“The girls have gone out to friends tonight,” said the Stepmother. “I want you to go into the kitchen and scrub it from top to toe. Then deep clean the whole café.”
“Sorry?”
“You heard what I said,” said her Stepmother shortly, and Ella swallowed. She put the envelope of the café’s earnings on the table.
“Stepmother –“
“What?”
“I cleaned the kitchen yesterday afternoon. After the café closed?”
“You heard. What I said.”
Ella nodded, a slow nod, and stepped into the laundry – the tiny room off the kitchen. She bent down to pull cleaning supplies from the bottom cupboard. Then stopped.
Her blue dress. The one she had worn last night; her only dress, her mother’s dress. It was cut up, on the floor.
Blue threads of her mother’s memories on the cold white tiles.
“What are you waiting for?” Her Stepmother’s voice, sharp. She was standing in the doorway, arms folded. Terrifyingly tall. The tiny laundry was filled with her gaze.
Ella stared down at the dress.
“I can’t,” she whispered, despite herself.
“I beg your pardon? We’ve talked about the mumbling!”
“I can’t.” Louder this time.
There was silence behind her. Ella took a deep breath –
“After all I’ve done for you? After all I’ve done to look after you and care for you – should have left you to rot on the street for all the good you’ve done me –“
It kept going, the tirade of words, pointless words, but all Ella could do was stare down at the dress, the pile of material that even she knew was beyond saving. Her Stepmother was getting louder, almost yelling, stamping her foot – but Ella was past listening. She had heard it all before.
She started to listen when the door slammed. Turning, she tried to open it, but her Stepmother had locked it – she banged her shoulder against it, but it wouldn’t give.
“You owe me,” her Stepmother hissed through the door. “You father left such a debt. You have to repay me so I can keep the banks appeased.”
“I’ve done so much!” cried Ella, almost yelling. She wasn’t sure why but she didn’t feel guilty or ashamed. Was this anger?
“You are nothing but a worthless whore,” the Stepmother was saying. “You owe me your life. I own you.”
Ella felt something snap in her.
Or maybe it was outside of her. There was a pop in her ears and something in her changed.
She turned, and launched herself at the laundry window. It was small, but it opened, and she pulled herself out onto the ledge, squeezing through the gap. She let herself down by her fingers until she dangled in middair, squeezed her eyes shut, and let go.
The one story drop was thankfully softened by the hedges that her father had carefully planted, and she had trimmed monthly for years. Rolling, she batted her way desperately out of the hedge. There was a sharp pain in her ankle but she her heart was beating so intensely that she barely felt it. There was ringing in her ears and she wasn’t sure if she had hurt herself or if it was her Stepmother yelling. She slammed the side gate open and set off at a sprint, forcing her lungs to propel her forward.
The night was new, and the streets were dark, and Ella ran, panting, away from the café. There were yells in the distance, but still she ran, as fast as she possibly could. Faster and faster and faster.
She didn’t know what was going on anymore.
All she knew is that she had to run.
Faster and faster.
She did not let herself stop.
And finally – finally –
The trees.
She ran in, letting the bush take her in and keep her safe.
She would be safe here.
She had to be.
Ella let herself –
Go-
Gone.
////
Her eyes opened to a sharp pain.
She saw green eyes, deep green eyes looking into hers, filled with tears.
His hands were shaking her shoulders. “Look at me!” he was saying. “Can you hear me!”
Ella screwed her eyes at Kit. “Let me go,” she mumbled.
And dropped back into the dark.
///
It was many hours later. Ella pinched her eyes open. The room was bright, and she had to blink a few times.
She glanced to the side. Her arm had a tube attached to it, and fluid was slowly dripping into her. She was lying in a bed – a real bed – and the blankets were covering her all the way to her toes.
On the other side of her – Kit. He was sitting on a single lounge, his head nodded forward on his chest. Asleep. Ella watched the rise and fall of his chest. His forehead was furrowed in his rest, and his legs were bent, tucked up next to him in a ball.
She had watched enough movies to know she was in a hospital. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She wasn’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or of fear. Of resignation of her situation.
She gave a great jump at Kit’s voice. “You’re awake!” He knelt by her side in an instant, his face buried in her blankets. “You’re awake.” His voice was muffled.
Ella lifted a hand with a hiss of pain, and gently stroked his hair.
“Are you alright?” he whispered, lifting his head, looking at her. She was surprised to see his eyes full of tears. No one had shed tears for her before.
It was a strange feeling.
Ella thought about his question. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think I should go back home.”
“You don’t need to,” whispered Kit. He gently took her hand from his hair, and held it tight. “You don’t need to go back there.”
“But…”
“It’s okay,” said Kit. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright.”
And Ella sank back into the pillows, and stared at the ceiling, and felt as the wounds on her body began to faintly throb, and as the liquid in the tube slowly trickled into her arm.
She felt Kit’s thumb slowly circle the back of her hand.
As the nurses came, and made sure Ella was alright, and pronounced her much improved, his hand did not leave hers.
He told her how he had woken up in the middle of the night, convinced that Ella was in danger. He told her how he had knocked on the door of the café and was told that she didn’t live there. He told her how he had found her in the national park that morning, while walking his dog; how she was shaking and slipping in and out of consciousness, severely dehydrated, with a broken ankle. How she had laid in the hospital bed. How the police had arrested the Stepmother and how the sisters were being questioned.
He told her that he wasn’t going to leave her side.
“It’s okay,” Ella whispered. “I’ll be alright.”
“It’s okay,” said Kit. “It really is.”
“It’s okay,” said Ella.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, with his big green eyes looking into hers.
Ella smiled slowly.
For the first time, she believed it.
She would be okay, after all.
It was going to be okay.