Page 6 of The Island Villa

“You’re getting good at that.” Cassie stowed the tray and served a waiting customer a single slice of chocolate brownie.

The Tasty Bite café was tucked away in a cobbled side street in the middle of Oxford, not far from the Bodleian Library. Their clientele consisted of an interesting mix of locals, tourists and students. Tourists were the most popular because they were drawn inside by the quaint Englishness of the place and tended to over order. Students were the least popular, because they bought one coffee and made it last all day.

Cassie was sympathetic. After all, she’d been that student. She’d completed her degree in Classics, spending four years reading, translating and analyzing texts. When she wasn’t in tutorials or studying in the library, she’d spent hours sitting at that same table in the window currently occupied by the tourists, scribbling in her notebook and watching the world go by. She’d spent so long at the café that Rhonda, the owner, had offered her a job, and Cassie had gladly taken it. Not only because she welcomed the money, but because it gave her endless opportunity to people watch and there was nothing in the world that Cassie enjoyed more than studying people.

Take the couple seated side by side in the alcove near the stairs. Their legs were entwined under the table and their shoulders brushed as they leaned over a flyer advertising an outdoor performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in one of the college gardens. Cassie had already booked tickets.

“What do you think? Married?” Felicia glanced toward the couple as she added two cream-topped hot chocolates to the tray already loaded with a basket of croissants fresh from the oven.

Cassie sneaked a glance at the couple. “Yes,” she said, “but not to each other.” It was a game they often played, inventing whole histories for people.

She waited while Felicia delivered the order and returned with the empty tray.

“They didn’t even notice me.”

“She’s been married to the same guy for a decade, and she has never done anything like this before. Last night was the first night they spent together.”

Felicia raised an eyebrow. “And your evidence for that is...?”

“They can’t stop touching, and they just ordered a ton of carbs. They need calorie replenishment. They’re both starving because they’ve been having sex all night.”

Felicia snorted with laughter. “Your imagination is a lethal weapon. By the way, can you cover my shift on Saturday? Matteo has planned a surprise for our six-month anniversary.”

“That’s romantic!” Cassie felt a twinge of envy. If there was such a thing as a perfect couple, it was Felicia and Matteo. “Yes, of course I’ll cover Saturday. The weather is going to be glorious.”

“You don’t have plans?”

“Nothing special.” She’d planned to lie on the riverbank in the soft grass and read her battered copy of The Odyssey for the umpteenth time.

“Thanks. I thought maybe you’d be doing job applications. Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?”

“Do?”

“With your life. Your future. You’ve finished your degree. Now what?”

“I’m still not sure.” It was her least favorite question, because answering honestly would mean revealing her deepest secret and she wasn’t ready to do that. She’d been a star student, and most people had assumed she’d stay at Oxford and pursue a career in academia, analyzing ancient texts and stimulating the brains of young enthusiastic students. But that wasn’t what Cassie wanted.

What would Felicia say if she told her the truth?

I want to be a writer.

Not just a writer, but a published writer. That, she knew, was the hard part. The impossible dream, and one shared by many. Everyone she talked to wanted to write a book one day. Cassie didn’t share that she’d already written one and had started another.

She was afraid that if she told people it would tempt fate, and that would be the end of her dream. They’d probably laugh or, worse still, tell her it was a fantasy and go on to list reasons to support that theory, thereby puncturing both her dreams and her confidence. They’d tell her to get a proper job, whatever that looked like. Cassie needed something that didn’t suck up too much time, or emotional energy. Something predictable, without stress, that left her time to focus on her real passion. Which was why, for now at least, she was working extra hours in The Tasty Bite.

Every day she cycled from the little Victorian house that she shared with her friend Oliver. The journey lasted eight minutes, and took her past The Lamb and Flag, which had been serving ale to literary folk for four hundred and fifty years, along narrow lanes and past honey-colored stone buildings, and the whole place was sun-dappled and beautiful and so steeped in history she thought to herself, Perhaps I’ll stay here forever.

Would that really be so bad?

She loved Oxford, with its winding river and famous colleges. She loved working in the café, which provided her with endless inspiration but placed no demands on her private time. She didn’t take work home with her. Her brain wasn’t crowded with things she needed to do tomorrow. She could think. She could dream, and no one cared.

“Earth to Cassie.” Rhonda emerged from the small kitchen at the back of the café and snapped her fingers. “Stop dreaming. Ted could use some help back here.”

She gave a guilty smile. Maybe people did occasionally care when they found her staring into space or scribbling in her notebook, but generally it was a job that fitted her circumstances perfectly. And it allowed her to eavesdrop on conversations and observe human behavior, which she found endlessly fascinating.

Cassie headed into the kitchen where Ted was busy prepping salads.

Ted was an archaeology student. Originally from San Francisco, he’d recently taken a job in the café to help fund the dig he was joining in August.

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