‘Tomatoes are the perfect example of the difference between organically grown and regular food. There’s nothing tastier than an organically grown tomato.’

I glanced up at Caitlin and she was smiling at me like I’d given her the best birthday present ever or something.

‘Oh, yeah, organically grown tomatoes are great,’ I said, peering over her shoulder to see if Trent was there.

Caitlin started packing a brown paper bag with some of the tomatoes and placed it in a basket along with some celery.

‘Oh, I need some sticky chai,’ she said and walked over to one of the shelves that ran around the space. The first thing I noticed was that the packet was designed with Aboriginal colours with a black hexagon on top, a yellow raindrop in the centre and a half circle below with the words ‘Sticky Chai Raw Honey-soaked Chai’ written in black, red and yellow. I wanted to try some of it because of the packaging.

‘I need a new toothbrush, too. Do you need one, Phoebe?’

I shrugged.

There were five cardboard boxes with $5.95 price tags handwritten on them. I wondered if Trent or his mum had written the price tags.

Caitlin placed two of the toothbrushes in the basket and then stepped across to another section where the first thing I noticed was a handwritten sign made of cardboard. It read, Bamboo Babe Pads, all $6.00. Caitlin reached down and picked up a parcel of nappies with the word ‘Ecoriginals Baby’ and a picture of a baby lying on its stomach with a few orange-coloured flowers surrounding it. Caitlin’s face was in deep concentration reading the label and I started to worry that she was pregnant. She placed the nappies down on the shelf and reached out for the Bamboo Babe Pads. ‘Need some?’

‘No,’ I said, terrified that Trent might appear from nowhere and serve us. But my cycle did seem to be in sync with Caitlin’s so I knew we were in for a rough patch any day now.

‘We should order something to eat,’ Caitlin said, turning up the corners of her mouth into a little smile.

We walked to the counter and there was a tall, bronzed-skinned, blonde-haired woman with blue eyes behind the counter.

Caitlin handed me a menu, but I kept looking at the woman as she organised things, noticing her ocean-green apron with the McLean’s logo on it, her chunky orange bracelet and necklace and tiny tattoo of an electric guitar running along the edge of her wrist.

She said, ‘How can I help you?’ and flashed me a really nice smile. She had to be Trent’s mum. Realising that, having her speak to me, made me jumpy.

Caitlin ordered a peppermint tea and quinoa salad.