Chapter 10
GRETA GRIMACED. THE pounding in her skull felt like a heavyweight boxer was trying to punch his way out.
She pressed her palms against her temples, willing the pain to ease.
Her worst-ever hangover or caffeine crash had never felt this bad.
A thick fog of confusion clouded her senses, leaving her groggy and disorientated.
She opened her eyes, allowing her surroundings to filter into focus.
Light streamed through the windows of Iris’s coffee shop, glinting off the jars on the shelves.
Dust motes twinkled in the air. Greta could hear the creak of old floorboards and footsteps pacing back and forth.
She swallowed, her mouth dry, like she’d licked the bottom of a bird cage.
The pacing stopped, and Iris came into view. Her face was still and calm, as if it was a perfectly normal to find someone clutching their head in her booth. ‘Welcome back, Greta,’ she repeated.
‘You didn’t warn me I’d feel like this,’ Greta groaned.
‘You didn’t ask.’
Greta squinted, trying to make sense of everything she’d just experienced.
It was a struggle to drag her thoughts away from Mapleville.
‘Did you put something weird in my coffee?’ she croaked.
‘How long was I, um . . . ?’ She fumbled to find the right word.
Dreaming? Hallucinating? Or had she actually visited Mapleville? ‘How long was I gone?’
‘Three hours,’ Iris replied. She removed Greta’s cup and saucer before wiping the table. She poured a glass of water from a fresh jug and set it in front of her.
‘Three hours?’ Greta gasped. It had felt like much longer. She tried to push herself out of her seat, but her knees wobbled, and she gripped the edge of the table for support. ‘Why didn’t you wake me up?’
‘Time can seem to move differently in different places. One’s journey must be undisturbed. It could be risky to intrude on your reverie,’ Iris said.
Greta frowned. Something in Iris’s tone suggested more than just a bad headache. ‘Risky how?’
‘Hopefully, it’s not something you’ll get to experience for yourself.’
In Greta’s hazy state, the cryptic words were too much to process. The thought of dozing off or, even worse, snoring in Iris’s booth filled her with embarrassment. Oh god, had she talked or drooled in her sleep?
She pulled her phone out of her bag and checked for messages from Jim, but the screen was clear. She was about to call Lottie, then smiled tightly to herself. How could she possibly explain where she’d been and what she’d been doing there?
Greta glanced down at her hands. The crinkles on the back had returned, and her nails were ridged.
Her body was back to its regular size, and the button on her jeans dug into her belly.
As she ran her fingers through her fine hair, dismay rushed through her.
She was completely back to normal, back to being herself. And it felt utterly disappointing.
‘Drink some water. Dehydration can cause headaches,’ Iris said.
Greta did as she was told, focusing on the cool sensation running down her throat. ‘Is three hours . . . um, away, normal?’
‘Everyone is different. It depends on your system, whether you’ve eaten, your metabolism . . . many factors. Like caffeine, the coffee’s effects can wear off quickly or linger for hours.’ Iris paused. ‘How was your visit?’
Greta’s brow furrowed. Fragmented memories of Mapleville—its serenity, sunny skies, and the green parakeets— were vivid in her mind. She could still taste Maple Gold and the sweet raspberry jam from the doughnuts. Her gaze flicked to Iris’s TV, where an old game show was playing.
‘How do you know I went somewhere?’
‘I don’t. I assist your experience, not design it. I don’t control your narrative,’ Iris said huffily, as if offended. ‘You didn’t answer my question. How was your visit?’
Greta rubbed her bicep. Her whole body ached, as though she’d scaled a high, rocky mountain and now sat panting at the top.
‘I visited Mapleville, the town from the Maple Gold coffee commercials I starred in. The sky was impossibly blue, everyone was happy, and I didn’t have to pay for a thing.
I was a different version of myself there, kind of .
. . shiny. I felt like I was meant to be there.
’ She searched Iris’s face for a trace of understanding.
‘I think I even saw my husband. It was sort of magical.’
Iris’s expression soured further. ‘Magic is a crutch. Rely on it too much and you can forget how to walk on your own.’ She brusquely refilled Greta’s water.
‘People think magic is the answer to everything. It isn’t.
It can open doors, but doesn’t tell you which ones to walk through. That choice is always yours.’
Greta squinted at her. ‘But you gave me some magic coffee . . .’
‘The coffee has specific qualities, yes, but not supernatural ones. Think of it like an Instagram filter,’ Iris said.
‘It enhances what’s already there. Memories and thoughts are never fixed in place.
They evolve over time. Regrets can grow bigger in your imagination, good times can shine brighter, and bad memories can appear gloomier, depending on which filter you choose to apply. That’s not magic. That’s perspective.’
Greta’s thoughts swirled. Perhaps visiting Mapleville was like stepping into virtual reality. She’d remained in Longmill while experiencing an entirely different world. She doubted she could ever fully explain it, but that didn’t really matter. The adventure had left her wanting more.
Her gaze drifted to the jars lining the shelves. How many other customers had Iris helped on a journey? What had they wished for, and where had they gone? The thought intrigued her and also left her feeling quizzical.
‘Your coffee tasted fantastic,’ she said, attempting a bit of flattery. ‘Can I buy some to take home? It doesn’t have to be, you know . . .’ She avoided using the word magical.
Iris pointed to the sign on the door. ‘No takeaways, remember?’
‘Right, yes, of course. What if I want to do this again?’ Greta asked, already keen to jump back in.
‘As per the rules, you must wait one week. This allows the essence of the coffee to completely ebb from your body. Do you remember the other rules, too?’
Greta nodded. ‘One cup of coffee only. Drink it in the booth. Say my wish aloud. Don’t struggle to return,’ she recited. Iris looked so serious she tried to lighten the mood. ‘Any chance of a decaf version for a shorter wait time?’
Iris didn’t smile. Instead, she slipped into the booth, sitting opposite Greta. ‘Tell me,’ she said, taking a pen and notebook out of her pocket. ‘What did you learn?’
Greta frowned at her. ‘You want feedback? Like a survey or something?’
‘Yes. For my records.’
If the coffee was free, Greta figured there must be some kind of payback. Her time in Mapleville had been eyeopening, just what she’d wished for. But then what? ‘I had fun there, but I’m not sure I learned anything . . .’ she said.
Iris let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Every experience in life teaches us something. Think about it.’
‘Okay, okay.’ Greta nodded and closed her eyes. ‘I loved feeling beautiful and confident, like I was really seen again.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘Give me a chance.’ Greta exhaled and thought some more. ‘At first, I felt that way, but then I became . . . curious. Like I wanted to learn more about the place and its people, and to embrace life. I haven’t felt that way in years, like everything wasn’t just passing me by.’
Millie’s words echoed in her mind. When you shine, the world shines with you, don’t you think?
Could it be true?
Iris jotted down a few notes. ‘That’s a good start. Look out for other takeaways, too, and act on them.’ She set down her pen with a sense of finality. Standing up, she headed toward the door. ‘You have to leave now. I’m closing.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ As Greta picked up her handbag, a sense of loss wrapped around her. The thought of returning to her normal life gave her a sludgy feeling inside.
She stepped toward the door and opened it, cold air blasting her cheeks.
‘Thank you, Iris,’ she said, loitering on the pavement. Somehow, she felt like she was leaving something precious behind, something unfinished.
Iris smiled enigmatically, her white hair blowing like wisps of cotton. ‘I forgot to tell you Rule Five,’ she said. ‘Don’t drive after drinking the coffee. You may feel woozy for a while.’ Then she shut the door.
Greta stared at it for a while, tucking her hands under her arms to warm them. Did all this really just happen?
She let out a laugh, unsure. Iris must have put something very strange in the brew. She checked her watch and saw the second hand was moving freely again. Almost four hours had passed since she’d entered the little coffee shop, and she must have been doing something in there.
When Greta’s phone buzzed in her pocket, she was relieved to find a message from Lottie.
Getting chips with Jayden. Back later??
The emoji was a small thing, but it felt like something much bigger.
The wind howled, and Greta pulled her coat around her, lost in thought as she walked home.
All her senses felt heightened, as though she could see and hear everything more clearly. Petrol fumes clogged her nostrils, while a woman’s perfume was strong and sweet as they crossed paths. A pneumatic drill juddered, and Greta crossed the road, distracted by the noise.
She barely noticed a taxi approaching until its horn blared. Startled, she jumped back with her heart racing.
The driver wound down his window. ‘Watch where you’re bloody going, love,’ he yelled. ‘You’re in a dream world.’
His words bounced around in her head. A dream world? He wasn’t far wrong. She mouthed an apology, her legs trembling as she hurried to the other side of the road.
By the time Greta reached her flat, she’d convinced herself that thinking she’d been to Mapleville was probably due to stress, hormones, or too much caffeine. Falling asleep in the booth seemed like a logical explanation.
She opened her front door and reached up to remove her scarf. Instead, her fingertips brushed against something smooth and cool. With a frown, she peered down.
Her mouth went dry when she saw the string of chunky pearls around her neck. They looked identical to the strand Millie had given her, and she curled her fingers around them, gripping them tightly.
Whatever Iris’s coffee had done to her, wherever it had taken her, Greta hadn’t returned empty-handed.