'Anne Brewsters Visit'

Anne Brewster is visited by a young woman, some one she may have known from her past.

Anne Brewster’s Visit

A short Story by Will Neill

' Would you like a refill Ma'am?'

Anne Brewster looked up from her table, a young black man in a blue and white striped apron was pointing, smiling at her and her cup.

'Pardon Me?' she asked momentarily confused.

'A refill ma'am, would you like me to refill your coffee cup' he repeated, his voice tone slightly raised.

'I'm not deaf you know' Anne shrugged pushing the half empty cup into the centre of the table.

'No Ma'am I'm sure your not' the young man sighed.

'Well, what are you waiting for?' Anne mumbled poking swiftly at her mug. ' I aint payin for it' mind'

'No Ma'am that's okay' the young man replied rolling his eyes 'Refills are free'

Anne Brewster was a reposeful woman in her own company, she liked to sit and think. Every where she went she carried her beaten up old leather handbag, a birthday gift from her sister Rose who had been dead for the last fifteen years. Inside the bag was a compartment with a small silver zip. This was her secure place, the pocket that she kept her dairy and a small tin box.

Mainly she preferred the quietness of the library, but when the rain started a cup of hot coffee and a place to rest had lead her here. The young man in the apron hovered around the tables as one by one the other patrons began to leave. Anne looked out the window, the rain had stopped. She felt awkward and self conscious as slowly the café emptied.

Anne sipped her coffee, her reflection in the café’s window threw back a transparent image of a middle aged woman, 'how fitting' she sighed 'That s just how I feel, transparent'' she hadn't wore make up since her sister's funeral. And she couldn’t remember the last time she was in a hairdressers. And as for beauty salons, 'Who needs them' she mumbled. The boy in the apron continued to clear the tables. Her eyes watched him nervously, had he heard her speak?-no, thankfully. Anne tucked her graying hair under her woollen hat, dropped her eyes and wrapped her hands around her cup. She no longer wished to look at herself. It had gone cold. Anne never noticed the young woman come in and sit down two tables facing her.

Out side the rain had moved East, giving way to a clear twilight sky, Anne checked her watch it had gone six. She knew the library would be closed.

Anne sighed annoyed, while she gathered up her bag.

Only then as she returned to her reflection in the window did she see the young woman, fleetingly she looked familiar. But instantly she dismissed the thought.

Anne had no friends.

The lady smiled at her as Anne rose from her seat and began to leave.

'Do I know you?' Anne asked looking to her then over her shoulder to see if the young black man was watching. She could hear him laughing in the kitchen, it looked like they were alone. She could feel herself nervously fidgeting as she moved around the island of empty tables towards the door. ' We knew each other some years ago Anne' the Blonde Haired woman replied.

'How do know my name?'

'Why don't you sit down Anne, we can talk if you like'

'I can't I'm in a hurry'

'The library is closed Anne, stay a while' Goose flesh rose on Anne's arms, she felt her fingers tremble as she reached for the door handle.

'Who,-who are you!' Anne asked her voice soft and trembling.

' Do you still keep that little tin box in your bag Anne, the one with the letter in it?' The young woman gestured again at a seat.

'How do you know about the, Library, the box? How?' Anne asked seemly agitated.

''How come you never married Anne'

Anne pulled her bag tight against her chest, ' My father never approved of Joe' she sighed slipping onto the chair.

'He was different that's all'--'Who are you?'

' Why did you keep the letter from Joe Anne' the young woman asked.

Anne relaxed the grip on her bag, 'Its all I have left to remind me of him' slowly she placed the bag on the table and unzipped her little pocket. The little silver tin shone in the café’s lights, Anne took her time and opened the box. Inside a carefully folded piece of paper had become gray and frayed from age and constant reading. Delicately she unfolded the letter using small movements to smooth out the creases with the palms of her hands. She felt a dull ache form in the pit of her stomach with every motion.

Her eye's scanned the page in a glance, tear stained words brought familiar pain-she knew it all by heart.

'Dearest Anne,

Meet me in the Library at 3.00pm on Friday at our favourite seat, bring your bag like we talked about.

Don’t tell your father.

I love you Anne Brewster , will you marry me!.

Signed Joe January 3^rd 1965

xxxx.

'That’s why you go to the library every day at 3.00 isn’t Anne' the young woman whispered

Anne nodded-'Father found the letter and the date in my dairy, he locked me in my room, kept me there for two day's. By Monday I knew he was gone, I never heard from him again ,that was thirty years ago' Anne cupped her head and began to cry. ' 'Oh Joe,If only I had found a way'

Slowly her sobbing eased, Amidst her tears Anne could hear movement from behind her.

'Ma'am' a young voice spoke 'Are you okay Ma'am?' Anne turned and looked up, through blurred eyes she could see the outline of a thin black man in a blue and white striped apron. He was holding a coffee pot, hot and steaming.

'Would you like a refill' he asked smiling 'it's free'

Anne composed her self graciously ' No thank you I'm fine' she replied, 'The woman who was sitting with me did you see her leave'

The young man looked confused ' I'm sorr-' 'She was about twenty something, attractive and blonde' Anne interrupted ' You must have seen her'

The boy shook his head, ' Do you mean that young lady' he said pointing past Anne.

Anne turned slowly, in the cafe's window a transparent image of the young woman stared back, beside it stood the thin black man. Anne gasped, then dropped her eyes.

On the table below her she could see a letter spread and pristine, beside it sat a pink dairy.

'How long have I been here' she asked the boy shaking

' Not long'

'What time is it'

'Oh about 2.30 I'd say' the boy stated.

'And the date?'

' Friday January 5^th 1965 of course'

As Anne burst out of the door she caught a glance at the name out of the corner of her eye.

'Last Chance Café'

Author's Note

A short story about hope (full of cliche's but who cares) It's never to late.

Reviews

[David Scott]

Last Chance Cafe' indeed Will.
We all need second chances in life; or third and forth and on and on...
I like the dialog and the development of your character. She changed when the "young woman" became a part of the story. It was fun to read and you gave the reader some suspicions to build the tension. Great ending as well!

[Will Neill]

David many thanks for taking the time to read.
Will

[Angi]

Oh, I was so surprised in the end! I love that she has a second chance, Will. To be that crabbed old lady, never satisfied, always miserable would be a horrible way to live. I want to see her make it to the library in time! I want to see what happens when he sees her face in the doorway. Enjoyed this one, Will. So much! Angi~

[Will Neill]

Angi, thank you for reading Anne's story, she made to the Libary and lived happy ever after. I think we should always take the chance don't you. Not many take the time to read and comment, so for that I am grateful.
take care.
Will

[Angi]

Yay for the happily ever after! You are very welcome, Will. I love your stories.

[Great Aunt Astri]

I enjoyed reading this 'fun' story. The cliches didn't matter because the story was original and held my attention.

[Will Neill]

thank you for your review.
Will

[Tegon Maus]

Fun story Will !!! If only we could go back and tell our younger selves don't by that Pinto !!

[Will Neill]

Ha! Tegon how right you are, thanks for the review.
Will

[Marie]

This is a great story, Will. And cliches don't matter, as long as a tale is well told. But you're gong to have to edit out a lot of mistakes.

It was a little confusing to me that all of Anne's remarks were made in italics, but that's all right. I understood the story perfectly, and I really liked it.

[Will Neill]

Thanks Marie, to be honest I got a bid bored with it after I started writing this so maybe that came across.
Will

[Marie]

Will, if you get bored with writing something, the reader is likely to get bored with reading it. Although I didn't find this piece borning.

[Will Neill]

Your right Marie, I wasn't up to par while I wrote this maybe thats why, thanks.
Will

[MOON]

Never too late indeed, kept me interested throughout . Last chance cafe hope it's a franchise!

[Will Neill]

Thanks Moon for the review, its never to late-this was just a bit of fun
Will