The 24-Hour Café

by Libby Page

  Mona scoops up the coins left as a tip on the women’s table and returns to the counter. As she does so she notices for the first time the yellow Post-it note attached to the top of the till. Seeing Hannah’s looped handwriting, she feels a jolt of emotion, but she tries to shake it off as she reads on.

  MONA, keep a lookout for a young (20ish?) man, longish blond hair, slight beard, green hoody, large rucksack. IMPORTANT envelope for him in lost property. Love, H x

  Mona crouches and reaches for the lost property box. It is a mess of assorted items, including the single glove she remembers finding on the floor yesterday and a set of keys that she has spent many idle moments wondering about. She spots a large brown envelope and picks it up, curious to see what is inside, but it is sealed. She gives it a shake (it feels like a book) then returns it to the box.

  Her phone buzzes in her apron pocket and she checks quickly that no customers are waiting before reaching for it.

  ‘Have you told Hannah?’ reads the message from Poppy.

  She sighs without meaning to, the earlier argument replaying in her mind. ‘Bonne fucking chance,’ she hears Hannah saying loudly as she turns and walks away, her face damp with tears.

  ‘Yes,’ replies Mona, ‘She didn’t take it well.’

  She doesn’t feel in the mood to elaborate.

  ‘You guys will work it out,’ replies Poppy, ‘You two are like that.’ At the end of the message is a crossed-fingers emoji. Not for the first time, Mona thinks back to moving in to the house in Bounds Green with Poppy, Hannah and the others, and wonders if Poppy ever minded how quickly she and Hannah became inseparable. She knows that they did invite her to dinners and cinema trips together to begin with, but she also remembers it quite quickly becoming just the two of them. Hannah and Mona. As their rooms were opposite each other’s they spent a lot of time in and out of each other’s rooms, talking and giving each other encouragement and advice about upcoming auditions or jobs. Did Poppy ever feel left out? If she did, she never showed it. Mona suddenly feels even more grateful to her for letting her stay with her in Paris. Knowing she has a sofa to sleep on and at least one friend in the city makes the upcoming move more manageable.

  ‘Not so sure,’ replies Mona, ‘It was a bad fight.’

  Will they work things out? And does she even want to? Mona still isn’t sure, her head still spinning from the words that Hannah threw at her and that she shouted in response.

  A series of dots blink on the screen, indicating that Poppy is typing. But then they disappear. Mona guesses that Poppy doesn’t know what to say and isn’t surprised – Mona doesn’t know how to fix things either.

  She returns her phone to her pocket and reads the Post-it note one last time, fixing the description of the young man in her head so that she will recognise him if he comes in. She gives a cursory look around the café, looking out for a flash of green, but he is not here. Instead her eyes fall on the woman with the engagement ring who is still sat by the window, flicking through her scrapbook absentmindedly. Mona catches glimpses of flowers, cakes and bunting.

  Mona stands beneath the shadow of Ernest the bear, looking around at the pictures she knows as well as if they hung in her own home. In the kitchen she can hear Aleksander talking to himself in a low stream of Polish – a habit of his that she is so used to by now that it is almost comforting. It joins the other noises of the café that she knows so well. A pan sizzling, a customer laughing and The Breakfast Club soundtrack on the speakers above switching to ‘We Are Not Alone’.

  As she listens to the song her heart aches. Because she knows what it feels like to feel alone, even when she is with her closest friend. Over the past year she has learnt that’s the kind of loneliness that hurts the most.

  *

  She wants to like Jaheim, she really does. At least that’s what Mona tells herself.

  When Hannah and Jaheim first start dating, Mona enjoys hearing about the dates and helping Hannah construct replies to his messages (‘Don’t reply straight away, keep it cool.’) They laugh at each other for obsessing so much, but they do it anyway. She presses Hannah for more details when she describes their first kiss – she wants to know everything. But very quickly, something changes. Jaheim starts appearing in the flat more, his large brogues placed neatly by the front mat letting Mona know when he is there, and when not to charge straight into Hannah’s room if the door is closed. When he is over, the door is closed much more often than it is open. Hannah becomes distracted when she and Mona spend time together, as though she is not always really listening to what Mona is saying. Hannah stops talking to Mona quite so much about her work, the thing that they used to spend hours discussing together, and instead talks mainly about Jaheim and their plans together. The change surprises Mona – she has always thought of Hannah as incredibly independent and self-sufficient. And Hannah has talked to Mona about her past relationship with Sam; Mona is surprised that this experience hasn’t made her more guarded. But with Jaheim Hannah doesn’t seem at all guarded, instead she gives all of herself to him readily. Perhaps it’s this power imbalance that makes Mona so uncomfortable; although Jaheim is sweet and affectionate with Hannah, Mona gets the impression that Hannah needs him far more than he needs her. She is worried about her friend and where this might be heading but doesn’t feel she can say anything. The not-saying sits as an empty space between them, unsaid words pulling them slowly a little further apart.

  One evening about two months after Hannah and Jaheim have started dating, Mona invites Hannah to a show she has been rehearsing for and there is Jaheim too, sat next to Hannah on one of the small fold-out chairs in the community theatre. Afterwards, the three of them go for beers in a nearby pub and as she watches Hannah and Jaheim sitting close together in the booth opposite her, Mona tries to remember whether she’d invited Jaheim herself. She can’t remember but hopes that she did. Of course she should have invited him, she thinks, it just doesn’t come naturally yet – her first thought leaps to Hannah (as long as she is there, it doesn’t matter how small an audience is) but she hasn’t adjusted to factoring him in too. She is so used to it just being the two of them.

  Later that evening, when Hannah and Mona are alone again (Jaheim has an early start at work so has returned to his own flat, which is much closer to his office) Mona pours them both a cup of tea, which they drink on the floor of Hannah’s room, leant against her bed. They are both wearing their pyjamas; Mona has wiped the stage make-up from her face and has her hair tied up in a messy bun, a headband pushing loose strands away from her forehead. Beside her, Hannah plays with a bracelet on her wrist.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind that Jaheim came,’ says Hannah after a while.

  Mona turns to her quickly. So she didn’t invite him, then. She curses herself silently, wishing she’d remembered and that it wasn’t such an effort to try to remember.

  ‘Of course it was OK,’ says Mona, trying to sound cheerful, ‘You know he’s always welcome.’

  Hannah looks down at her tea.

  ‘Is he?’ she says, ‘Only, sometimes I feel like you don’t like him.’

  Mona feels her stomach dropping. She thought she had hidden her feelings well – she always tries to make an effort to chat to Jaheim about his work when he visits and to ask after him. But sometimes she forgets, still not used to him. She is not used to his brogues by the front door, or to seeing Hannah’s bedroom door closed, or to the way Hannah often looks at her phone now when they are talking, as though she isn’t entirely there – a part of her always being with him. And although Jaheim is perfectly nice – chatty, smiley and good looking – there is something about him that makes Mona uneasy. Hannah has so quickly become obsessed by him and there’s something that makes Mona think he enjoys this – that he likes the devotion.

  ‘I do like him!’ Mona says quickly, realising she sounds defensive without meaning to.

  ‘It doesn’t
always seem that way.’ Hannah holds her tea in one hand; with the other she wraps a long lock of her hair around her finger and twists it round and round – a habit that Mona knows comes out when she is nervous.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Mona replies, trying to make her voice sound calm, ‘Because I do like him. And I’m just so happy that you’re happy.’

  They are silent for a moment.

  It seems too petty to admit that, aged twenty-nine, she is jealous. But she is, it’s a feeling she hadn’t expected and can’t control. She is not jealous because of Jaheim (perhaps fortunately, Hannah and Mona share many things but not a taste in men) but of how much time he spends with Hannah, time that used to be hers – theirs. Two or three nights a week Hannah stays at Jaheim’s, meaning Mona has the flat to herself. At first she enjoyed the freedom – on those nights she walked around in her underwear and had a bath with the door open, her laptop propped on a stool in the doorway while she binge-watched her favourite German dramas on catch-up until the water turned cold. But the tiny flat quickly came to seem too big without Hannah there. She knows that this time was bound to come – that one of them would find a boyfriend eventually, especially when so many of their other friends are already married – but she had enjoyed things the way they were, the two of them single and pursuing similar careers, sharing setbacks and spurring each other on. That had been the dynamic of their home, but now things have changed.

  ‘Well I am happy,’ says Hannah, finishing her tea and placing the mug on the floor, stretching her arms out in front of her, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.’

  Mona flinches. What about the surprise party that she threw for Hannah’s twenty-eighth birthday? Their friends hid in the dark in their flat and when the lights came on Hannah stepped back in shock as she saw them all wearing masks that Mona had got printed of her face: a whole crowd of Hannahs dressed in rainbow shades in honour of their friend. Or the time they stayed late at a pub after one of Hannah’s gigs, getting locked in with the bar staff until the early hours of the morning: impromptu karaoke and Mona relenting and tap dancing giddily on the bar to the sound of Hannah’s delighted cheers. A summer day trip to Hampstead Heath when they both had a day off and where they swam in the murky Kenwood Ladies’ Pond beneath the trees and then lay in the meadow among groups of female friends, sunbathing topless and reading magazines. Falling asleep to the sound of splashing and quiet conversation, saying sleepily to each other that nothing in life could get much better than this.

  She knows it’s different – that being in love is different to anything else in the world, but the reduction of all their shared memories as something ‘before’ this new happiness still sends an ache shooting across Mona’s stomach and up towards her chest.

  ‘If you’re happy, I’m happy,’ she says.

  ‘OK,’ says Hannah.

  They say goodnight and Mona pads back to her own room, shutting the door and listening to the quiet shuffle and creak as Hannah climbs into bed.

  *

  The more intense Hannah’s relationship with Jaheim became, the more Mona felt the distance growing between her and her friend. Many times she tried to bring it up, but she felt petty and embarrassed to express her feelings and besides, Hannah was so absorbed by Jaheim and her new love for him that Mona didn’t think Hannah would hear her if she did say anything. Mona was used to Hannah being late and usually turned up late for dinners with her too, knowing Hannah would never be on time. But one evening when they’d planned to have dinner together at a favourite restaurant of theirs close to their flat, Hannah turned up an hour late, saying simply that she and Jaheim had lost track of the time. She had been apologetic and had bought dinner for the both of them, but she didn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again. Mona also noticed that since Jaheim had been on the scene, Hannah was spending less time practising her guitar and singing – something she used to do every day. It worried Mona, knowing how much music meant to Hannah. Could she really be happy without it? Mona couldn’t help but feel that the giddy state of bliss Hannah seemed to be in since meeting Jaheim couldn’t last, and wasn’t a healthy kind of happiness, because it meant changing and suppressing parts of herself, like her drive and her passion for her career.

  Over the months there had been moments when it felt like how it used to be between them. Like the New Year’s Eve party that Hannah and Mona threw together. They invited their old housemates and mutual friends and the flat was bright and warm with laughter and energy. Jaheim was there too but left early as it was his best friend’s birthday and he had another party to go to. Hannah had wanted to leave with him, but by then she was tipsy and he insisted that she stay in the flat. Hannah had sulked for a while after he left, but eventually she seemed to forget about him and instead got caught up in the music and the atmosphere. She and Mona danced together with their old friends, smiling and giggling and cheering in the new year, hugging each other tightly. In that moment it had felt to Mona as though she’d got her friend back. But the next day things had changed.

  Mona had woken up in Hannah’s bed where she had collapsed the night before, too drunk and tired to go to her own room. She woke to see Hannah slipping out of bed to take a phone call. Mona had thought it was Jaheim, but it wasn’t. It was Hannah’s mother, calling to tell her that Hannah’s grandmother had died. Mona remembers how Hannah broke down in tears as soon as she was off the phone. Mona immediately rushed to hug her, a hangover pounding her head and nausea making her want to wobble but her arms tight and strong around her friend. She made tea and cooked them both bacon sandwiches for breakfast. She listened as Hannah half talked and half sobbed, telling Mona stories about her grandmother. She chose Disney films for them to watch in bed together and carried snacks into Hannah’s room that she arranged on the duvet.

  Later, in the afternoon, Mona left Hannah in front of the screen and headed into the kitchen to call Stella and tell her what had happened. She didn’t want Hannah to have to worry about work. Stella told her Hannah could have all the time off that she needed.

  ‘And I expect you’ll want to go to the funeral too?’ she said. Mona didn’t even think before replying.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Stella agreed to let her have time off too as soon as she knew the date of the funeral.

  As Mona had stepped back into the room she saw Hannah out on the balcony, talking on the phone. She couldn’t hear her through the glass so sat back on the bed and waited, until Hannah eventually hung up the phone and stepped back inside, bringing a rush of cold air in with her.

  ‘That was Jaheim,’ she said. ‘Finally,’ Mona wanted to say, but she didn’t. He hadn’t replied to Hannah’s text or calls and she had been checking her phone obsessively all day, so much so that Mona had wanted to take her phone away from her. Instead of asking why Jaheim had left it so late to call, Mona told Hannah about the conversation she’d had with Stella. But it seemed that she had been too hasty in saying that of course she would go to the funeral. Because Hannah didn’t want her there in the end. She wanted Jaheim instead. Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it had, because up until then the two of them had been each other’s support. And Mona felt sad for her friend – she wanted to be there for her and to help her through it. Not being able to support her made her feel at a loss, like she wasn’t needed or wanted any more. Mona realised in one crushing moment that the feelings she had experienced at the party had been misplaced. Hannah hadn’t come back to her. In fact, she’d never been further away.

  Back in the café Mona shudders slightly, remembering. Throughout the months that Jaheim and Hannah dated, Mona never thought that Hannah noticed the distance growing between them. When she and Jaheim broke up three weeks ago, Mona had wondered if things would change – whether Hannah would suddenly realise the way she had acted and the strain it had put on their friendship and say something to Mona – apologise even. But Mona felt as though she had inste
ad simply brushed things under the carpet, covering up their problems by being overly cheerful and pretending things were as they had always been. Maybe that’s what Mona should do too but she suddenly finds that she can’t – the hurt that has been caused over the past year has left its mark and the argument earlier has only made things even worse.

  In the café, conversation drifts around Mona like snow but doesn’t settle on her. She watches unnoticed, separate from the customers and their shared looks and words that she will never really be privy to, lives she will never really fully understand. And in turn, she thinks how little they know about the turmoil going on inside of her.

  It hits her that soon she won’t even work here any more, but these conversations, these cheesy songs and everything else in this café will carry on without her as though she never existed. And with a stab of pain she suddenly wonders whether Hannah will do the same.

  Sonja

  She takes another sip from her milkshake, imagining the fat bubbling up to her face. Let it, she thinks as she drinks. The coffee machine hisses at the bar, but behind the noise she suddenly hears a familiar tune. She sits up slightly, as though this will somehow quieten the noise of the machine and tries to pick out the words. For a moment it is a vague blur of hissing and chatter and a voice that she can’t make out but that sparks something inside of her. Then the machine stops and she hears Van Morrison singing ‘Have I told you lately …’