Unexpected People
A sweet sort of stickiness hung in the atmosphere of the summer afternoon. Too many parents were attempting to entertain their sulky children in the stifling weather outside. While the inside of a cafe was hardly the best place for bored children, at least it was out of the sun and a rest for the parents. Regan wished for the coolness back that came with few customers and body heat (and peace), she reminded herself this was extremely good for business.
Politeness had become her dull, robotic response to the endless, tired and snippy customers. The heat had zapped her energy, so now she leaned on the counter as she sipped at a much longed for a glass of water. In that moment, a shout from the entrance shocked her back into the world. A mane of blonde hair was rushing toward her and Regan felt her defences pull her upright.
"Hey! You!" the vaguely familiar face accused.
Thankfully, the tone of voice was exactly the same. Regan was next to certain she could pick it from a crowd of a thousand. Now, Jareb's nightmare looked exactly like the wicked little torture device he had often described to Regan - unsurprisingly, these descriptions came mostly in the school holidays. For all the rubbish she had dished out the previous week on Ezla, Regan saw it clearer than day now - and, if she scared quite so easily as Jareb, certainly would be terrified. Instead, she put up a healthy wall of caution.
".... Fiona?" Regan knew she sounded far more confused than she should. "What are you doing here?"
"Shopping," Fiona replied, facially admonishing Regan for not figuring that out. "You-- what're you doing here? You work here?" Her expression said it was too far out of the realm of possibilities that Regan work in a cafe.
"Yes, of course I do ..." began Regan, slowly. She silently wondered where Fiona's judgements were coming from.
"Fiona ..." came a voice - so musical Regan could have mistaken it for the radio if not for the absolute rot that resonated from that machine.
The little blonde monster - for whom Regan had generously withheld any outward judgement on their first meeting - had run away from her mother. Naturally. It was hard not to judge today. Knowing that girl for all of twenty minutes and she was not in the least surprised.
A strawberry-blonde woman with a toothy smile locked her arms around Fiona casually. Unmistakable familial resemblance screamed from their faces, but Regan could barely compare the utterly incomparable facial expressions. The older woman had an entirely breezy, carefree smile which smothered Fiona's troublemaker stare. Somehow, Regan wondered if this was really how mothers acted around their children.
There was then a flurry of an introduction from Fiona, which Regan found mostly impossible to decipher, except for her own name. The Irish ought to talk slowly at all times, she reflected.
"No way!" the mother exclaimed, gazing at Regan with vibrant green eyes.
Regan did her level best to stay composed, though she was bewildered by the response. Adults were supposed to be on her side, surely. Even unconventionally chipper parents.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the mother said, apparently realising how off guard Regan was now. "I'm Niamh -" Regan heard 'Neev', and realised Fiona had already mentioned this in her introductory babble. "Fiona's my niece. She was actually just telling me about you."
Regan reacted with genuine surprise, feeling heat threatening to rush to her cheeks. What are you embarrassed about? she scolded herself. You only assumed in your head.
"Oh!" she said aloud, realising Niamh was holding out her hand - and had to check her own movement so she didn't embarrass herself entirely and move too fast. So with calmness, she shook the aunt's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"You too!" replied Niamh, her smile radiating such warmth Regan found it hard not to bask. Then, evidently wanting to finish her tale, she went on; "And right then, in the middle of her story we wandered in here, isn't that amazing?"
"Oh ... well, it's a small world," Regan found herself smiling back.
"Extremely!" replied Niamh, as though Regan had jumped on her exact point. "It's not every day your niece goes up to a floating island, meets some people up there, and the people from her story turn out to not only actually exist, but work - manage - own? A small cafe in London!"
Oh, lord - Regan let out an embarrassed laugh. It was hearty enough for the joke, but she felt ridiculous for not bothering to consider the fantastical nature of a flying island. Thank goodness this woman was here to point it out, she mused.
Fiona barked something. Noting Niamh's lack of attention to it, Regan went on with her response.
"Oh - well, good point," she said. "I suppose it's a little out of the ordinary ..." she paused.
Niamh was grinning at her in a rather pointed way. Regan nearly sighed at herself, and amended quickly.
"Well ... yes, it absolutely is just as astounding as you say. And to hear it for the first time ... I heard about it from a less than reputable friend," now she looked at Fiona - cautiously (encouraging that child was like throwing gas on a fire). "Jareb - before I ever saw it. So I remember how that was."
"He's kind of a huge idiot," chimed in Fiona - inevitably. "But I'd believe him if he started talking about stupid stuff, he doesn't seem like he has any imagination at all."
Regan took it upon herself to assume "stupid stuff" meant "things out of the ordinary".
"Really?" Niamh was saying, looking at Regan in a strange, examining way. "I'd like to meet him."
Regan was taken aback by the remark, and wondered - with far too much detail - exactly who Niamh was hoping would introduce her to Jareb. So much so, that she forgot to wonder why.
"To make fun of him?" Fiona was replying to her aunt, and Regan was glad she was such a loud mouth in that moment.
"No! So I can go and see Ezla, of course!" Niamh said. Before Regan had a moment to comprehend that, she was speaking to her again. "So, you never clued me in. Is this place yours?"
Wait.
"Oh- yes," Regan managed.
Was she really expecting someone to initiate a visit to Ezla, now? Surely not her, she only went up there semi-regularly to meet up with Jareb. She was hardly a welcome guest, not in a position to bring other people over. Her presence there generally seemed to be regarded with quiet politeness by everybody else - which of course she returned with equal politeness and gratitude. Or perhaps it was more politeness for Jareb than her. That seemed likely.
Afterall, her vivacious niece seemed the far more likely candidate - but no, that look from Niamh had unmistakably been pointed at her.
"Oh my Christ," Niamh gasped, shocking Regan to attention. "We are most definitely having lunch here!".
For a horribly shameful moment, Regan was left gazing at Niamh - bewildered and off in her own little world of unwittingly evoked thoughts. It took Emma, the barista, poking her arm with a pen to bring her back to motion.