‘Watch where you’re going, for fuck’s sake,’ she says, pulling the buggy away from me before walking on past. For a split second I want to cry. I feel so vulnerable. Why was she so mean to me? It was clearly an accident. But then I think, feck her and walk on towards the café. Reading while walking is proving dangerous so I shove the paper into my bag. I’ll finish the article when I get to work.

Sorry You’re Leaving Us. The banner is the width of the café, hanging above the service area in silver and blue. My mouth is open with surprise and delight. I can’t believe this. Muriel is playing ‘The Wedding March’ music on her phone and Helen, the new girl who’s taking my place, sings along with it. Dah dah da-dah. They’re both standing behind the counter with great big smiles on their faces. Imelda and Anna from the beauticians on the corner are standing to my right clapping. Noel from the travel agent’s is also here and Sean. Sean is clapping too. I can’t believe this. All this for me.

‘Oh my God. Thank you so much, I don’t believe this,’ I say and suddenly I feel tears rolling from my eyes. But they’re not tears of sadness, these are tears of joy, happiness, appreciation. These people love me, they care about me. What the hell am I doing moving to Australia?

Muriel walks out from behind the counter and hands me a small package wrapped in wedding paper with a card attached.

‘A few of the regulars made a collection, Tara. They wanted you to have this to thank you for all your smiles over the years. You’ve been a wonderful part of the café and we’re all going to miss you.’ Muriel is choking up. Her eyes glisten with tears.

‘You shouldn’t have… but thank you so much,’ I say, grateful. I know I’m experiencing one of those moments when you realise how lucky you are. I am lucky to have known these people, to have served them coffee. I’m experiencing a moment that will soon become a scene from my past. One I will always recall with a smile.

‘Well, open it,’ Muriel says.

I rip the paper off to reveal a mug in a box. Dublin’s Best Waitress: Tara is painted on the front of it. I laugh. I love it.

‘Look inside it,’ Imelda says.

When I pull the mug from the box I see a wad of notes tucked inside and I’m rendered speechless. I was not expecting anything like this. There must be a few hundred euros there.

‘It’s your tip,’ Sean says, and everyone laughs.

‘A well-deserved tip,’ Muriel says.