'Pear Juice' by Liz Milne

‘Do you have any pear juice?’

Shelley looked at the woman behind the counter, waiting for a reply.

The woman hesitated for a moment. ‘No, sorry,’ she said, ‘we don’t have pear juice?’ Her tone made it a question.

Shelley sighed loudly, shrugging a shoulder away from her nine-year-old daughter, Karina. No pear juice. ‘A small cappuccino, then.’ She counted out the coins, pennies – pence – unfamiliar to eyes accustomed to dollars and cents.

There was a candy bar on offer. Thirty pence. Karina traced the sign with a finger, sounding out, ‘Thirty pee.’ She cupped her mouth with her hand, laughing silently so her mother wouldn’t see and realise that she’d said a swear.

Shelley picked up one of the candy bars and frowned at it, before pushing it across the counter to the woman who’d already made the coffee, and was placing it carefully in front of Shelley.

Karina picked up the candy bar, holding it tight.

Shelley warned, ‘Don’t eat that!’

‘I won’t, mama. I just want to smell it.’

The woman asked, ‘Would the little girl like a drink?’

‘No.’

The woman blinked at Shelley’s curt tone.

‘I am a bit thirsty…’ murmured Karina.

‘But they don’t have pear juice.’

‘I could give her some milk in a cup? No charge?’

Shelley nodded, unwillingly.

The woman began to pour the milk, then asked, ‘A splash of chocolate, too?’

Karina nodded, her face brightening.

Before the woman add the chocolate syrup, Shelley spoke, ‘Oh, no, actually. No milk, no chocolate. We’ve got a coach trip later.’

‘Ah… Car sick, is she?’

‘Hmm-mm.’ Shelley picked up her coffee and turned away.

Karina looked at the woman, shaking her head, no.

She followed her mother, still holding the candy bar, dipping her head down to sniff at it.