What Goes Around...

Part Six

Chapter Six

Walking the streets of town was the least rewarding pastime of Freya's life. Especially as she was still having no success with finding any work. The thought of another unsuccessful trip across town back to the Mitchell Cooper's warehouse didn't instil her with a lot of pleasure. Failure was both painful and embarrassing.

The town was naturally divided into two very distinct parts by the river that spewed out into Lake Ontario. The larger north side of the river was home to boat owners, blocks of luxurious homes, condos, and driveways full of sports cars and SUV's. The warehouse was on the fringe of this zone, a riverside building that would have originally been some sort of import or export business. The bar that he owned was in the heart of the south part of town, a part that until now Freya had pretty much avoided. Not because she was a snob, she wasn't afraid of marching into that part of town, yet she hadn't.

The warehouse was to her right, and another afternoon sat feeling sorry for herself, or she could cross the bridge and try her luck there. The topography was different, immediately. Homes were smaller, apartment blocks higher, and the first few shops she saw were boarded up, empty. This was why she'd stayed closer to town. It wasn't flourishing, not like the north. She knew that his bar was close, and she had no intention of walking up to it, chances were Cooper would be there, and she was currently avoiding him again...when would she stop riling him. She was like a kid, hitting a wasp's nest with a big stick. He was going to sting her soon. She knew that.

Were the rolling eyes, the snickers at her request for work more hurtful than the refusals that she received?

People weren't rude here, this wasn't a class thing, but they were more honest. She looked as unlikely to fit in at the first five places as any of the employees would have fitted in back in MIT. She hated feeling snobby, but she was different from the majority of this town, but at least this community were blunt about that. With a sigh, she left the gas station and turned back towards the river, knowing that going home to lick her wounds was her only option.

Turning left, she walked down to the lake front opting for a beautiful view to accompany her on her gloomy walk. The sun was shining, and it made the place look even more pretty than it was, to her left Lake Ontario glistened, the sun reflecting off the rippling waves caused by the gentle breeze.

"Anywhere else in the world and it would be perfect," she half mumbled under her breath.

"The weather or the view?"

The voice caused her to lift her head and she saw an older woman cleaning one of two small chrome tables outside a glass fronted building, the sign above the window informed her this was "Ye Olde Tea Shoppe".

"Both!"

The grey haired woman smiled, "well it's a beautiful day."

"You're English?"

The woman smiled, "doesn't the name of this place give it away?" She gestured to the sign above her.

Freya smiled, "it does." Through the window she could see gingham table clothes, ceramic teapots and..."Oh my god. Is that Marmite?"

The woman laughed, "other than good tea, it's the only thing I miss about home."

Freya nodded in agreement, "I have been here for years, but I crave it on toast more than anything."

Within ten minutes Freya was sat at one of the outside tables, a large pot of good tea in front of her and three pieces of toast slathered in her favourite yeast based spread. Patricia, the owner of the cafe had sat opposite her with her own tea and telling her all about the last thirty years she'd spent in the area. She'd moved out from Manchester with her husband Tom when their children were small, and loved it. The cafe was her retirement job and had been open for three years, it had a steady crowd. People seemed to love her British take on things.