As I sat up, I began to hear voices, muffled conversations and laughter. Was there a group of people in the house? I had flashbacks to a memory of Greta, a nightmare about a ghost. I must have slept for ten or eleven hours and my brain had stuffed all sorts of ideas into my dreams. It was no surprise that Greta had been involved after the cemetery.
If someone had broken into my home, then it seemed they sounded happy about it. I brought myself onto my feet and noticed that I was in a pair of silk, monogrammed pajamas. I caught sight of myself in a floor length mirror and gasped at the outfit.
I ignored the voices in order to step closer to my reflection, tapping my fingertips against the embroidered, ‘S’ and ‘A’. Sadie Alden. My nightwear usually came in the form of some cutesy little shorts and t-shirt combo from a grocery store clothing section. These looked expensive, ignoring the embroidery which obviously added to the cost.
Where had these come from? When did I get changed into these? The shock of the pajamas faded as the laughter grew louder. I considered unplugging the bedside lamp to use as a weapon against intruders, but a part of me suspected that I was misinterpreting what was happening and I didn’t want to embarrass myself.
Creeping down the stairs, the voices didn’t change in volume. I wasn’t getting much closer to the sound of the noise. That’s when the most obvious explanation for it occurred to me. I could hear people in the café through the walls of the house. I found a clock in the kitchen and saw that it was approaching lunchtime. Why hadn’t I heard any of the sounds earlier? Why hadn’t they woken me? I must have been sleeping like the dead.
I spotted my noodles on the counter and smiled as I remembered my lazy dinner idea, one that I hadn’t even finished. I thought about making breakfast for myself using the food that Effie had acquired for me, but with the café right there, I felt compelled to go and try the food that was now associated with my name.
I ran back upstairs to change out of my strange silks and into something a little more appropriate for public viewing. I spotted my suitcase in the bedroom and unzipped it to look at the sea of clothes that would melt me in the heat. I found a spaghetti strap cami and slipped that on. I turned to open the closet out of curiosity and found row after row of shorts, skirts and dresses. Checking the labels, I could see that they were all in my size.
I had a vision of putting something on from this closet and having everyone in the café gawp in disgust at the new woman in town wearing Greta’s clothes. ‘How distasteful’ they would all say. Everything in the closet still had the tags on. They hadn’t been worn. They may still be Greta’s, but they were brand new and unworn. Something inside gave me the green light to pick up a pair of pale green cotton shorts and pull them up over my legs.
I looked in the mirror once again and, yeah, the outfit worked. I felt like I sensed something behind me, a cool touch on my shoulder, but there was nothing there. I found a small pair of scissors in the bathroom draw and cut the tags off, pulled my hair up into a loose bun high on top of my head and tugged a few strands down in front of my ears. I liked the slightly-worn look with my hair, nothing too slick.
I was almost running, the speed of my feet hurrying down the stairs and along the corridor helped me reach the door that connected the house and the café in no time. Would it be okay for me to wander in through the kitchen? Well I owned the place now, so I guess so. I reached for the handle, briefly recalled that I had been given a key for this door but not remembering where I put it and found that it was unlocked anyway.
I assumed Effie must have unlocked the door when she arrived this morning so that I could wander in when I woke up. The thought of hanging out with her or her sister again gave me a giddy feeling, the sparks of a new friendship.
The kitchen was a tornado of two women spinning around each other with utensils in each hand and multiple plates and bowls being loaded with a variety of foods. I couldn’t see orders written anywhere and tried to see if there was a digital system in place, there was no way they could just be remembering everything.
“Good morning!” they both sang in unison. They didn’t even look up from their tasks. It was a beautifully choreographed dance that they had clearly perfected over years through work in this kitchen and I was fascinated to learn how they did it.
“Sadie, come this way,” Effie yelled from the kitchen door. I hoped she wasn’t planning to have me don an apron and start serving customers before I’d had chance to eat. “You have a table over there, number eight. I’ll bring your order over next; I just have to ring this customer through the register.”
I felt instant relief, but also confusion as I hadn’t placed an order yet. I hadn’t actually seen a copy of the menu, nor could I see one anywhere in the café. I walked over to my table and had a flashback to the dream in which I had been watching Greta work, this had been exactly where I had sat. Creepy.
I lowered myself onto the wooden chair and was almost immediately struck by a man entering the building, his face was like a beacon calling me to stare. His tousled brown
