Cinnamon

The first thing I noticed about her was her eyes. Washed-out blue, like the water under clouds far out to sea, framed by the auburn waves of her hair and the slight dusting of freckles on her cheeks. She ordered a cinnamon cafe latte, to go. Full cream milk, no sugar, nothing else, just the latte. She was dressed in leggings, boots, and a flatteringly-tight dress framing her slender body under a button-up wool jacket that hung half open.

I watched her leave the cafe, and sighed to myself. Another London beauty, here one day and likely never seen again.

The second thing I noticed was the way she seemed to never have company. She'd arrive, most days dressed similarly, occasionally dressed down in jeans and a tight thermal vest, but always with her hair loose like flames. She was soft spoken, always polite, a slight accent marking her out as possibly northern European. She wore no jewelry that I could see, and I couldn't work out what she did. Perhaps an office worker; she seemed too mature to be an intern. I placed her in her mid-twenties.

Her pattern was once every three to five days, on average. Longer than that and I'd start to worry she'd moved on. But she'd always come back sooner or later.

.:.

"Cinnamon cafe latte to go," I said, producing it with a flourish.

"You're always so quick with that."

"I see you coming, gives me time to get everything ready," I answered, glad for this small chance to talk to her.

"How do you know what I'll want?"

"You always order the same thing," I replied, grinning. "You're my easiest customer."

She laughed softly. "I guess I'm a creature of habit. Oh well. Maybe I'll mix it up a bit."

"Don't," I answered. "Never change a winning formula."

"Not even if it gets boring?"

"Are you bored with it?" I asked.

"No."

"My point exactly!"

She smiled again as she tucked away an unruly lock of her hair. "Your cafe is a place of safety. I like that it's uncomplicated."

"We are extremely uncomplicated," I agreed. "Fish, chips, baps, chips, mayonnaise, chips... London cuisine at its finest."

"What's your name?" she asked as she picked up her latte.

"I'm Eddie."

"Edward?

"For my sins, yes."

"Thank you for the coffee... Eddie," she said, turning away.

"Wait, don't I get to know your name? Fair's fair after all."

She paused, considered, then winked at me. "No. All is fair in love and war."

I pantomimed a wound to the heart, and, laughing, she stepped outside. But then she stopped and turned to the window. She traced out "Natalie" in the light film of dust on the glass, and gave me a smile and a wave as she walked away.

.:.

My uncle had a loyal following from the staff of the various office buildings surrounding his cafe, many of whom came for the coffee and stayed for the honest and reasonably priced food. Uncle Peter knew them all by name, and would greet them as they walked in. I'd been working for him since I finished school; first as his dish washer and later as his assistant. The hours were long, the pay was low, but I loved the cafe and I loved him so I stuck with it. Age had slowed him down a bit, and these days he was more likely to saunter in twice a week during the mid day rush to help our chef Marco, trusting the rest of the work to me.

One night, we'd stayed in to drink after closing, and over way too much Jamesons he'd told me that I was the son he'd never had and how proud of me he was, and how he wished my own father could have seen what I'd become.

I'd asked him about Natalie he'd simply shrug. "She's quiet," he'd demurred. "Some people are like that. Best to just leave her be, Eddie."

Easily said.

Lots of pretty girls walk into Pete's Cafe. We have ad agencies, model agencies, law firms, software development houses, PR consultancies, you name it, we serve them and their clients. Lots of them smile at us. Talk to us. Share the little bits of their daily lives or gossip with us. And for our part we take pride in making them happy; bacon rights many wrongs, after all.

Cinnamon girl, though. She was the only one of them I missed when she wasn't there.

.:.

Days passed, more than she'd normally be absent for. At first, I fretted that she'd got cold feet about losing her casual anonymity with me. But surely she'd heard us - Marco, Pete and me - bantering with other customers. Surely that couldn't be it or she'd have stopped coming to the cafe long before she had.

Fatalistically, I decided that she'd moved. Or been reassigned.

Or, perhaps, I sighed, she had indeed gone and found a coffee shop with a less nosey man behind the counter where she didn't have to do more than order her brew, pay for it, and leave again. God knows there's enough places to get a latte in London.

I chalked it down as a harsh object lesson. People had their routines, and I'd broken hers. Best thing I could do was learn, and not do it again.

Not that there'd be another girl like her.

Days turned into a week, then two. I no longer watched the foot traffic outside, vainly hoping the next pedestrian would be her.

But early one chilly morning, a flash of red hair, and there she was, smiling up at me.

.:.

"I thought you weren't coming back," I said, as I handed her her coffee.

She pulled a face, pantomimed retching. "Life and work."

I made a noise of disgust as I cleaned and wiped the steam feed on the machine. "I'm lucky, I suppose. Work is fun for me. And I don't have much of a life to speak of," I added, grinning.

"You do look like you enjoy this."

"It's a busy job, but my uncle is an easy boss, and he trusts me, so..." I shrugged. "I can think of far worse places to be. It's warm, it's indoors, the food is great, and I get to meet new and interesting people every day."

"You're lucky," she said softly, as she blew foam away and sipped her latte. "I wish I could have a job I loved."

I quietly began to wipe down my countertop. "What do you do, Natalie?"

"English tutor for non-native-speakers. Which is kinda funny, considering my own background."

"That sounds really interesting though? More interesting than most people we have walking through here."

"You know what all your customers do?"

I laughed. "My uncle does. He has a gift of making people open up to him. I seem to have inherited some of it."

"Uh huh. I'd better be careful I don't spill all my secrets to you, then," she said, smiling over the lip of her paper cup.

"So why don't you enjoy it?"

"Freelancing. No security. Constant fear of not being paid... it leaves me pretty drained. It would be nice to work in an office. Less admin."

"That is a side of it I hadn't thought of," I said. "Must be stressful."

"Yeah, it is. Dealing with lots of medium-level execs who like showing their power in inter-personal relationships. Sometimes I feel like I need a shower afterwards." She stared down into her coffee, then shook her head, dismissing whatever she'd been thinking about. "Gotta go," she said. "Can't be late, or I get abused."

"Don't be a stranger," I answered.

She adjusted the worn leather book bag that hung at her hip, then sighed. "No promises. My time is not my own."

I mimed taking another wound to the heart, and she was still laughing as she walked out the cafe. She waved from outside, then walked off out of view.

I turned back to the counter, checking everything was organised and clean.

I heard a scooter buzz past, but scooters are as common as pigeons in the City.

Screams and shouting, however, aren't.

.:.

I vaulted the counter, barely remembering to yell "Watch the till!" to Marco.

A knot of people was forming around a prone figure a short distance north, and I dashed over. My heart skipped a beat when I saw it was Natalie lying sprawled face down on the dirty tar.

"Natalie, Natalie, hey, you ok love?" I said, as I knelt down beside her.

"Eddie? That you?" she asked, woozily. "I'm alright, just... had the wind knocked of me..." She coughed. "Help... me up, please."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she said, levering herself up onto her knees. "Fucking... head hurts. So... I guess they got my... bag, right?"

"Yeah, looks like it." I got a hand under her arm and helped steady her.

"They rode past you and grabbed it and you got pulled into the road," said a girl who helped me lift Natalie to her feet. "I've seen those two around here before. I'll call the police."

Natalie leaned on us, breathing for a moment, then cursed under her breath. "Klootzakken."

"Come, lets get you to the shop. We can get some ice on your head and wait for the rozzers to show up."

"You got her?" the girl asked me.

"Yeah. Thanks, I'll make sure she's ok. Tell the police I've got her at my cafe over there."

"Will do," the girl said, as she pulled her phone out of her bag.

I got Natalie's arm around my neck, and carefully helped her totter the twenty yards back to the cafe. I guided her inside, then sat her down in a window booth so that she could lean against the glass for support.

"Marco!" I called. "Ice, please."

He'd seen us coming and had already filled a clean dishcloth with ice cubes. I passed the makeshift cold compress to Natalie, helping her place it against her left cheek and temple.

"Stronzi," cursed Marco as I filled him in. "Fuck those pigs. I hope they choke on their own shit." He slammed a cupboard closed and descended into an Italian rant far too filthy for me to understand.

I smiled apologetically at her raised eyebrow. "Marco hates those scooter mugging sods. They got his phone last month."

"Cazzo, merda, I'd just got the fucking thing too!" he yelled from the kitchen.

Natalie was watching me with her one uncovered eye. "Thanks," she said softly. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"Don't mention it. Sorry I couldn't do more."

"You got me off the road. It wasn't very comfortable," she added with a wry grin.

"You're taking this pretty calmly." I fetched her a bottle of still water and opened it for her.

"Too sore to care. Later I'll explode. Right now I'm just hoping I'm not too bruised. Am I?"

"Are you...what?"

She pulled back the compress. "Badly bruised."

"Here... let me..." I said, as I gently brushed her hair aside, wincing at the pained hiss of breath she took as I accidentally touched her cheek. "Sorry."

"Am I?"

"I'm not going to lie, Natalie, it looks like it's going to be a nasty one."

"Fuck, shit and poes."

A police motorbike slowed to a stop outside. The PC looked around, and I quickly went and called him, pointing him in Natalie's direction. Then I made myself useful by helping Marco with some prep work, giving her some privacy.

.:.

"Here," I said, handing her two crumpled tenners. "This will get you home."

"Oh, wow... thanks, Eddie. I'll come pay you back when I've cancelled my cards and got some replacements."

"Get yourself sorted first. Don't worry about the cash. Just come and let us know you're ok."

Behind the counter, Marco nodded.

She sighed, then stood. "Thanks, guys."

"You sure you're feeling good enough to travel?"

"I've only got to get down to Elephant and Castle. Not far to go."

"Ok. Take care of yourself," I said.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a star."

She stepped forward, and gave me a hard hug. I was too surprised to reciprocate at first, but when I did I felt rather than heard the way she sighed.

She broke free, and gave me the slightest of smiles. "How do I look?"

"Pull your hair forward and nobody will notice."

"Mm." She turned. "Grazie, Marco."

He smiled and waved to her. "Prego, bella. See you soon."

We watched as she walked out of the cafe. I sighed, turned, and caught Marco grinning at me.

"Stop it," I growled, flushing.

"I said nothing."

"No. But you thought it loudly enough for me to hear."

He laughed, and went back into his kitchen.

.:.

It was a slow day. Office workers ducked in from the cold and dashed out again quickly, clearly wanting to be back in their climate-controlled habitats before the weather got too close to them. I greeted our regulars, chatted to them a bit, commiserated over the weather, brought them variations on the theme of coffee. But my overarching concern was Natalie. I hoped she'd got home without any further drama, and that she'd been able to get in given that her keys had probably been in the bag she'd lost.

Patches of sunshine broke through outside and the day warmed up a bit. The mid morning rush started as the area's bumper crop of flex-time programmers collectively decided they wanted second breakfasts, and Marco was kept busy with constant orders for various forms of dead pig and not-yet-chicken. I watched every girl come and go, wishing they were her.

I had more time to think as I made coffee after coffee. To think about the small dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. And the riot of reds in her hair. The way she'd felt in my arms. And the swelling on her cheek that so horribly disfigured her lovely face.

I burned myself once or twice due to my wandering mind, and was just about to take a quick walk to clear my head once things had calmed down when our battered wall phone rang.

I picked it up. "Pete's Cafe. How can I help?"

"Eddie?"

"Natalie! Hi! Hey, did you get home ok?"

"Yeah. Thank God. Anna... my room mate, was still here. So I didn't have to go try get my spares. Cos that would have been a great end to an already terrible day."

I gave Marco a wave and an ok sign, and he nodded and waved back. "Marco says he's glad to hear you're safe."

She laughed. "Thank him for me. And... thanks again, Eddie."

"Don't mention it, just glad I could help. How's the head?"

"Fucking sore. But I'll live. I'm busy trying to catalogue what those bastards got of mine besides phone, keys and wallet. Not my diary, thank god, that's online and backed up, as is my contact list. But they got enough to make a nuisance of themselves. I hope they enjoy the four year old Samsung and the thirty one pee in my purse."

I laughed. "Sounds like you're a seasoned traveller."

"I learned the hard way. Should have been smarter."

"Don't blame yourself, nobody notices those fuckers coming."

"Yeah, I'll be even more careful going forward," she agreed.

A brief silence.

"Anyway," she continued, "I just wanted to thank you again. It would have been a far worse day if you hadn't been there to rescue me."

"Well, I hope you heal fast, and come back to visit us. We'll have your coffee waiting for you."

I heard her laugh. "With an invitation like that, how could a girl refuse. See you, Eddie."

"Ciao, Natalie."

She hung up, and after a moment of dial-tone I did too.

.:.

A day passed, then two, then three. I guessed that she was organising her life. So I kept my head down, tried not to worry, and worked on keeping our customers happy and helping Marco whenever things slowed down at the counter.

I kept a weather eye out for her, but she still managed to take me by surprise, slipping in as a couple of suits departed, her tattle-tail hair hidden under a beanie and scarf. I pretended to throw my hands up in the air in surprise when I saw her.

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and I couldn't help a goofy grin in response.

"Welcome back," I said. "It's good to see you're ok."

"No coffee?" she said, pouting. "Disappointing."

"You're camouflaged," I pointed out. "Not exactly fair, is that? I need at least a thirty second head start."

"I suppose not," she agreed. "Well, since I'm here, can I have a..."

"Cinnamon caffe latte, to go."

"No. To stay," she said, smiling. "I have a smidgen of time today, and it's nice and warm in here."

"Marco's fault," I said. "Can't handle the rain. Silly Mediterranean pansy."

"I heard that, cazzo," Marco called from the kitchen.

Natalie dug into a pocket. "So, I owe you some money."

"Nope."

"Uh huh. I do. Don't try to wriggle out, I always pay my share."

She put two ten pound notes down on the counter. "Take them," she said, softly. "Please... it's... it's important to me that you do."

"If it is that important to you, I will," I said, folding them and sliding them into my own pocket. "But it was just money."

"Not to me. I don't like owing people stuff," she added, softly.

I pushed away the playfulness and met her gaze, unnerved by her intensity. "Ok. Consider us square. How... How is your face feeling?"

She pulled off her beanie and gently tugged her hair aside. "See for yourself," she said.

I winced. "Not good. But better than it could have been."

"It will heal in time. Most things do."

I nodded. "Most things."

"So..." she said, looking down at the counter.

"So?"

"So I want to cook you dinner," she said in a flustered rush. "To say thank you. For being there for me."

"Sorry... You want to cook me dinner?" I blinked.

"You sound surprised."

"No hot woman has ever wanted to cook me a meal."

I realised what I'd said, and flushed bright red, cursing my mouth. "Sorry, sorry, that came out all weird and wrong."

But she was smiling. "Well. This girl wants to. If you're willing to trust her cooking," she added shyly.

"Marco!" I yelled.

"Si!" came the reply.

"Is the Pope still Catholic?"

"Yes... last time I asked him."

"There's your answer, then," I said to her. "Whenever and wherever you like, so long as it's after six in the evening because I have to close up and make sure we're stocked for the next day."

"Tonight? I mean, if you've got other plans..."

I met her steady gaze, and took a breath. "I don't. And even if I did... I don't."

"Ok. Ok, then," she said, flushing. She fumbled in the battered backpack she was carrying, and pulled out a phone.

"Zero seven nine six three three seven two one four five," I said. She looked up, nonplussed. "My number," I added helpfully.

"Uh... I wasn't ready."

I smiled, and repeated it. She stabbed at her phone with her index finger, and my own handset buzzed on the counter. "Now you have mine," she said softly.

I looked down, saw the single "x" she'd sent me, and looked back up with a strange flutter in my stomach.

"I have to go," she said with a sigh. "I had to reschedule a lot of things after the mugging and I'm playing catch-up. "

"Let me know when and where later, I answered as softly. "What should I bring?"

"Bottle of wine, red if you like."

"I'll see you later, then."

She waved goodbye from the door, and I watched her walk away.

"Shut up," I said.

"I didn't say anything," said Marco. But he was grinning like a cat who had just got the cream.

.:.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I closed up slightly early, ignoring Marco's "Have a nice night!" as he walked off towards Moorgate. I pulled my jumper on over my teeshirt; I didn't have time to get home, get changed and get back, so I decided to go al fresco. I locked and padlocked the door, and took a quick glance up at the darkening sky. Some cloud but not much, I probably wouldn't get wet.

I ducked into the local Tesco and found my regular reliable Barolo. My phone buzzed in my pocket; I took a quick look and smiled. She'd sent me a map pin and a - Come find me :) -

I clicked the link, and saw it was pretty close to the Elephant and Castle Underground. Not far at any rate.

I paid for my wine, then loped off towards Moorgate, where I planned to catch the Northern Line south to supper.

.:.

Ring. Ring. Click.

"Hi, Eddie"

"Hey," I answered. "I'm here, I think. At least, I'm standing outside buildings where you said you were, so I must be close."

"Look for a pale blue door."

"Oh, that's across the road from me."

She laughed. "Guess I wasn't very specific, was I?"

"Nope. Hope I get a gold star for way-finding effort though."

"You do," she replied softly. "We're on the top floor. I'll come down and let you in."