Chapter 2
‘One Matcha Maker Special coming right up . . .’ Sasha said as she let Klara into her flat.
She’d grown to love her flat above the café, which she’d filled with books, plants and ornaments she’d collected while travelling.
Klara would often stop by for a drink after work, before going home to her parents’ farm on the outskirts of Bramleigh.
The living room had a generous bay window overlooking the green, with crimson silk curtains to block out any draughts, and an indoor jungle of monsteras, philodendrons and orchids, reminding her of the tropics.
Sasha was excited about Klara’s first matcha reading.
She’d swapped the blouse and skirt she wore almost as uniform for a cosy knitted sweater dress and her favourite over-the-knee ribbed socks.
She’d loosened her shoulder-length black hair and tied it in a messy bun.
On the mango-wood table, she laid out a tin of matcha powder, a small sieve, a bamboo whisk soaking in a cup of water, and her jade glazed bowl.
The pretty Japanese bowl always reminded her of Por Por, who’d bought it from a tea shop in Uji, mere months before she’d passed away.
Sasha often thought her career crisis had come at the right time, allowing her to spend those precious months with her Por Por while she still could.
University, where she’d studied history, had been a happy time.
But after her degree, her parents had nagged her to go into law.
And it was at law conversion college where things had gone wrong.
She was accused of a misdemeanour and had been asked to leave.
Afterwards, she couldn’t bear living with her parents and their disappointment.
So, she’d fled to South-East Asia, travelling and soul searching, and reconnecting with her beloved grandmother.
Por Por had been the psychic matchmaker in their kampong, their family village in Malaysia. She’d helped Sasha discover her own psychic abilities, teaching Sasha her special technique of whisking matcha and reading the bubbles.
‘Many of our family have this skill,’ Por Por had told her. ‘But only a few take the time to focus and develop their powers.’ She was very proud that Sasha was eager to learn, and taught her everything she knew.
Sasha had been thrilled to master the family psychic matchmaking skills. It had given her a new confidence. When she decided to open her own café serving delicious matcha treats, it made sense to offer psychic matcha readings as well, to guide people to find their perfect romantic match.
Klara sat opposite her on a floor cushion, while Sasha carefully measured out the matcha powder, sifted it into the bowl and added hot water.
Fresh grassy scents filled the snug living room.
She lifted the bamboo whisk from the cup and dunked it in the bowl.
But her hand shook and hot water splashed her wrist. ‘Ouch!’
‘You OK?’ asked Klara.
‘Yes, fine! Sorry – I really want this to work for you.’
The burst of nerves was natural. After all, Klara was one of her oldest friends and Sasha hoped the bubbles would lead her to a good match.
She deserved it. Klara’s long-term relationship with Aidan from university had fizzled out when her mum fell ill and she’d had to spend the majority of her free time visiting her in hospital.
Klara’s mum recovered but the relationship hadn’t.
Now Klara seemed ready for a new romance. Who would she find?
Sasha began to whisk the matcha. In Uji, she’d attended a workshop where she’d learned to make a variety of matcha lattes, hot and cold.
She’d soon fallen in love with the delicious and healthy tea.
She preferred the clean grassy scents and the gentle buzz it gave her, rather than the jittery effects of coffee.
Even better, matcha was full of polyphenols and antioxidants – so it was good for you!
Mesmerized by the rhythmic whisking, her nerves soon calmed. Silently, she called on her grandmother’s psychic gifts to help her see Klara’s match.
Steam curled up as the matcha frothed and bubbled. Sasha closed her eyes, breathing light in through the crown of her head, just as Por Por had taught her. She pictured a cinema screen inside her mind.
Soon, images flooded in. Klara on a beach, laughing and happy. There she was, strolling next to someone. A man. Sasha couldn’t see his face, but they were hand in hand, admiring the sunset streaking pink and red in the sky, reflecting on the sea.
The vision dissolved.
Sasha put the whisk down, poured the matcha into a cup and handed it to Klara to drink. She blinked and breathed steadily, coming back to the familiar surroundings of her flat. The piles of cushions on her comfy sofa. The jade dragon and brass Buddha on the mantlepiece.
Klara sipped her tea, looking at her expectantly. ‘Well? What did you see? Am I alone with my cats, knitting?’
‘Far from it,’ Sasha reassured her. ‘I saw you on a beach at sunset. Happy. In love. Hand in hand with someone tall and handsome, with a broad chest and muscular arms.’
‘Woo-hoo – on a beach!’ Klara launched a hug at Sasha. ‘A surfer, maybe? You need to be muscly to battle the waves. Any idea where this place was? Where will I meet this hunk?’
Sasha shook her head, laughing. ‘I don’t know – that’s all I saw. But it’s a positive sign. You’ll find your true love. You were happily in love. The message is clear. You might have a few frogs to kiss but you’ll find your perfect match one day.’ She stood up and tidied the tea things onto a tray.
‘Some day my prince will come!’ Klara sang. ‘Granny was right. I’m going to find my jam jar lid. Thanks, Sasha. Makes up for not getting any Valentine’s cards last week. But what about you? What about finding your lid? Can’t you do a reading for yourself?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Sasha’s chest squeezed with pain, remembering. Dominic, her last boyfriend, had dumped her by text. They’d been on a series of dates that never progressed beyond drinks, a couple of lunches and sessions in the library where she’d helped him with his law assignment.
And then he’d texted to say they should cool things. ‘Too intense,’ he’d called her.
She’d been devastated, but worse was to come.
A month later, the college accused her of plagiarism.
Their assignments had been too similar. Klara had told her to stop helping Dominic with his work but it was too late.
He refused to own up to the fact that Sasha had helped him, not the other way round.
After she’d been forced to leave college, she’d come to the conclusion that Dominic had been more interested in copying her work than in dating her.
Sasha had sworn off men for life. Even before Dominic, her experiences had not been great.
There had been a brief holiday romance once.
And before that, mainly unrequited crushes.
She’d gone to a girls’ school so wasn’t used to boys.
Her first crush had been on her former best friend Effie’s brother, Ardem.
One day, she’d left him a note in his satchel, saying how much she liked him.
But when he found it, he’d laughed and told her she needed to dress less like a boy as he wasn’t gay.
That had hurt. She’d always dressed for comfort, in jeans, dungarees or denim shorts and baggy T-shirts which hid her flat chest.
After that comment, she’d attempted to dress in more feminine clothes.
Effie was curvy and had been wearing a bra since she was eleven, unlike Sasha, who had tried a training bra but found it too uncomfortable.
Effie lent her some of her clothes, but the two girls were completely different shapes.
Effie’s dresses didn’t suit Sasha’s slim figure and narrow hips; the fabric was tight in the wrong places and baggy in others.
Sasha once wore bright-red lipstick to a party.
But she overheard some other girls laughing and was convinced they were laughing at her.
It wasn’t until university and she met Klara that Sasha discovered the joys of dressing up.
They spent hours in between lectures browsing vintage shops.
Klara’s dramatic personality suited her extravagant dress sense and, under her influence, Sasha started wearing brighter colours.
Pretty fabrics and textures made their way into her wardrobe, as long as they were comfortable.
‘True love is not for me,’ Sasha stated now.
‘Plus, Por Por told me it’s hard to read yourself accurately.
She even warned me not to get too close to my clients, to avoid muddying the psychic energy.
My focus is solely on finding matches for my clients.
My true love is the café, and the wonderful people who enjoy hanging out there. Just like we did in the Blue Moon.’
Klara nodded. ‘I loved our lazy afternoons there, especially when we bagged the velvet sofa.’
‘Sharing a chocolate lava pudding, making our hot chocolates last all day. I always fantasized about creating a cosy space like that,’ said Sasha. ‘My dream is to carry on running Matcha Moments, and see my clients happy and in love.’
‘Your dream’s already come true, then. But don’t discount your own romance quite yet. Oh, I’m so excited about this beach!’ Klara jumped up and hugged her again. ‘Hey – what’s wrong?’ She saw the cloud passing over Sasha’s face. ‘Something’s bothering you, I can tell.’
Sasha sighed and took the dreaded brown envelope out of her bag.
She showed Klara the letter from the property manager.
‘It’s about the lease for the café. It’s due for renewal at the end of May.
I don’t know if I can afford to renew it for another year.
The landlord wants to know my decision by the end of April.
I don’t know what to tell them. I can’t bear to go back to London and tell my parents I’ve failed again. ’
Klara put an arm around Sasha. ‘I don’t get it. How can you be failing? The café seems busy whenever I’ve been in.’
‘Not busy enough! I’ve had to reduce Annie’s shifts so she only comes in at lunchtimes.
’ Sasha winced. Her assistant, Annie, was a single mum and she’d hated having to cut her hours.
‘I know it’s hard for hospitality everywhere.
Everything’s gone up. Electricity. Heating.
Rates. I’ve got so many bills – it’s been a cold winter.
And they’ve increased the cost of the lease massively. Look how much they’re demanding.’
Klara looked at the figure again. ‘That looks extortionate. Can you put up your prices?’
‘I really don’t want to – a lot of my customers are struggling as it is. I reckon that’s why we’ve been so quiet lately.’
‘Oh, Sasha! It’s been hard for The Bookery too – everyone seems to shop online.’ Klara’s shoulders slumped. ‘You know, there’s been a tea shop or café on this corner of the high street for decades. Bramleigh Green wouldn’t be the same without you.’
Sasha felt tears prick her eyes. ‘I just want to make Por Por proud of me. To carry on the legacy of her matchmaking powers into our generation. She told me the best reward in life was making other people happy. And being paired with the right person can make all the difference to someone’s life.’
‘You have made her proud already. I’m sure she’s somewhere in the universe, watching you matchmake all those happy couples.’
Sasha bit her lip. ‘If only I can carry on running the café, doing what I love.’
Klara threw an arm around her. ‘We’ll think of something.
Maybe you could run events, bring in more punters from the surrounding towns?
Let’s get Nathan over and we’ll have a think.
Matcha Moments brings people together – you can’t close!
Plus, you’ve helped so many people find love.
The apps just don’t do it these days. People want real interaction, not just swiping on a screen. ’
‘Thanks for being here for me – as always.’ Sasha squeezed her friend’s hand.
‘Of course! And I’ll be booking a holiday soon too. Maybe somewhere with a surfing beach. Now, how about opening that bottle?’ Klara suggested.
Sasha nodded, smiling. She felt better already for sharing her troubles. ‘I’ll go and grab some glasses.’