“So that’s three coffees, one cappuccino, and a green tea, with a selection of cakes.”
The waitress put her notebook back into her apron pocket and left the students to their discussion.
They normally met at the café on Tuesday mornings, as none of them had classes until the mid afternoon.  It was a ritual that they observed with strict diligence; both as an opportunity to catch-up with any gossip and debate more worldly goings-on.

Adam looked up from his newspaper.
“I see that the Tories are proposing stricter controls on immigration laws in their next referendum.  About bloody time too.”
Brian, a staunch Labour supporter, laughed.
“Yeah right.  Like you know anything about politics mate. It’s all just political propaganda. Getting up on a soapbox, shouting the odds. They know immigration is a popular subject right now, so they’re pandering to the masses.  Must be desperate for votes.”
Charlotte, who had been busy texting on her new mobile, looked aghast.
“So you don’t think we should be thinking about the effect that asylum seekers are having on our economy?  Haven’t you seen the news?  The reason our taxes are increasing is to support a mass of free-loading refugees, who only come to Britain as a way of gaining free housing and health benefits.  They take our jobs and end up forcing our schools to teach subjects like Swahili and Voodoo-for beginners”.
The three of them laughed again.  The waitress silently returned with steaming cups of coffee and tea, and placed a jug of milk on the table. As she left, Diana arrived, dragging her backpack behind her.

“Thank you,” said Diana, the only one to acknowledge the waitress.  She took her coat off, and laid a huge pile of law books on the table.
“I’ve got a seminar on intellectual property this afternoon and I haven’t even begun to read up on it.  Don’t suppose you guys know anything about copyright?”  She took a sip of coffee, and looking harassed, started flicking through the pages of the first book.
“Ah, no, but we were solving the important  issue of refugees and asylum seekers,” said Adam.  “Our wannabe Paris Hilton over there is worried that her tax bills are going to increase so much, she won’t be able to afford any more manicures; and Brian is so blinded by his bias against anything Conservative, that he’ll vote against them just because their policies weren’t thought of by the Labour party first.”
“Hey, don’t make me sound like a snob,” said Charlotte, poking Adam with a French-polished manicured nail across the table in jest.  “I’m just saying, I don’t see why I should be paying higher national insurance premiums, just to make sure some immigrant mother from Afghanistan can get free baby milk, when I have needs too…and maintaining a polished appearance takes time and money you know.”
“Yeah, and less red bashing, thank you very much.  My Granddad voted Labour, my Dad voted Labour and so I’m going to vote Labour” Brian poked Adam as well.  He puffed out his cheeks and in a mock Godfather tone said, “You’re insulting my whole family.”  
Again the group laughed.

“Well I don’t give a rat’s arse about politics,” huffed Diana.  “I never bother voting anyway.  It’s not like missing my vote is going to make a difference.  I don’t think we can really change anything.  Most of the parties are so similar, and I never know what their agendas are. It’s not like the issue really affects me.  And at least my wasted vote isn’t as bad as one given in blind faith by Brian, or ignorance by Adam”
“What a fantastic display of apathy, bravo,” said Brian, clapping his hands. “A classic example of burying your head in the sand.  You wait; one day, when you’re tucked away in your four-bedroom dream house in the home counties, enjoying your humungous solicitor’s salary and producing 2.4 children, you’ll wake up, and there will be a band of Kurdish gypsies moving in next-door.  Your property prices will skydive, you’ll have to put up with their kids overrunning the local classrooms and the worst thing is, you’ll know they haven’t paid a penny for the house it took you years to save up for.  Then who will be wishing they had taken the opportunity to vote”
“Well don’t make it sound like I’m so ignorant.  Adam pretends to know so much about politics, when really he just concentrates on the sports section…yes, I know you read the main headlines, but I’m on to you mate.  The only time you have an opinion, is when you’re reciting from one of those columnists.  You don’t have an original opinion in your body.  Like you care so much about immigration.”
Adam blushed.
“Well at least I’m not a hundred percent self-obsessed.  I donate to charity through the bank every month, and I am aware that the news reflects what is actually going on in the world.  The only current affairs you’re interested in are on those stupid soaps you watch.”

Evie had been very quiet all this time.  She was scrutinising the café menu, trying to see if there were any details about organic produce and gluten free ingredients.
“I’m going to have to pass on those cakes guys, yummy though they look.  I’ve got my allergies to consider, and I doubt they were made from wheat-free ingredients.  Plus I’m really trying to support fair trade products this semester.  Our sociology lecturer handed out these leaflets the other day about this wonderful farming community in India, where they ensure the women get decent wages and they educate orphans”.
Adam and Charlotte smirked at each other.
“Have you been listening to a word we’ve said, or have you had your head stuck in cloud-cuckoo land for the past 10 minutes?”  Adam pushed his newspaper over towards her.  “What do you reckon on this whole immigration policy issue?”
“Don't bother asking her.  I expect she’s probably camped out with half the population of Slovenia and has a Romanian orphan sleeping back at home somewhere.”  Charlotte giggled into her fur jacket.
Brian poked his tongue out at Evie and made a peace sign.  “That’s the trouble with you Evie.  You take a gap year, and then come back to England convinced that world peace is possible if only all the politicians could spend a night singing songs round a camp fire together.  So what if you met some really friendly people abroad?  Most of them were on the hippy trail as well.  You have to accept that real-life isn’t like that.”
“I know real-life isn’t all about toasting marshmallows together and working on a kibbutz.  But I’m open to the idea that we are all God’s children, and this planet was made for everybody; regardless of where you were born or what language you speak.  I’m not averse to the idea of opening up borders and letting people choose where to live.  Maybe that way we could reduce the economic gap between the third world and developed countries.  I’m sure if we lost this concept of separate nations, and became more integrated then the whole world would become a better place.  Fewer wars, fewer national debts and more understanding between the human race as a whole”.


The waitress returned with a stand of cakes, and Adam and Brian delved into some chocolate éclairs.
“Evie, Evie, Evie.  You’re so naïve.  You really make me laugh.”  Charlotte patted her on the head. “Don’t you understand that we need differences in this world to make people function. We can’t suddenly adopt all this communist thinking.  What would be the point of working so hard, if everybody was the same?  Why bother trying to study, getting yourself into debt and gaining a high paying job, if you knew your neighbour was only working half the hours and still had the same car as you?  Half these immigrants don’t even have a decent education. We need our differences to keep us motivated; and we need to maintain our standard of living for our own citizens.  As for opening up borders, let me ask you; what would happen if every impoverished asylum seeker were allowed to settle over here?  Our country would fall into economic decline, the struggling health service wouldn’t be able to cope, and as for you and me…we’d be reduced to the same level as those women in that farming community you were talking about.  God, I shudder to think about it.”

A woman was dicing cucumber for salads in the kitchen at the back of the café.  The waitress came up to her and placed some dirty coffee cups in the sink.  They started talking in Czech.
“These people make me so angry.  I can’t stand serving them.”
“What’s the matter Elena?  Who’s upset you?”
“There’s a group of students sitting at table four. I recognise them from the campus. They’re talking about immigration and asylum seekers; like they know anything about it.  You can hear them preaching their rubbish all the way across the café.  It’s so insulting.  They think people like you and Papa came over here just to get a free house and take their jobs.”
The woman put her knife down and placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Elena, don’t take it to heart.  We’re much better than they are.  You know that your father and myself would still be living back home if we could. We had to leave. We are still good people.  Your father is a well respected doctor here. I never thought it would be possible to own my own business, but the café is thriving and we all work so hard.   I’m so proud of you as well; I never imagined my daughter would have the opportunity to study at university.  You have a wonderful future ahead of you.  Your past and all our experiences will make you a great woman someday.  Maybe you will go into politics and change the views of people like that.  You could be an important voice in the future.  Try to see the good in our situation.”
“But people like that would stop my brother from coming over here to live with his own family.  They can’t see past their own prejudices. They’re so patronising and blasé. They talk about things they have no knowledge of, and yet they’re the people who affect our lives.  It just makes me so…oh, I don’t know.  Sorry Mama, I’ll get over it.”

When Elena went back to the table to see if everything was fine, she took the time to really look at the students who had made her feel so small.  One boy was reading his newspaper, but she could tell he was skimming over the headlines and distracted. He had the look of someone trying to fit in, but knowing everybody else was more intelligent than him. He seemed uncomfortable and squirmed a lot.  He only relaxed when he reached the sports section and cartoons at the back.  They probably equalled his I.Q. level, she laughed to herself.  He would probably be destined to become a middle-level manager and spend the rest of his days in ignorance seated at a desk somewhere.

The girl with the pile of books had clearly switched off from the conversation, and was furiously writing notes in a binder.  Elena thought, what a waste of potential.  How could someone so motivated and intelligent, be so apathetic about issues that would affect them?  Given the law books, she was patently planning on entering a career governed by political issues, and yet she didn’t even take the time to vote?  She should be ashamed of herself for not appreciating the gift of living in a free democracy.

The other boy was busy bullying the girl with dreadlocks, trying to impose his views on her and disregarding any comments she made back to him. His face was going red as he got more and more frustrated and raised his voice, while she was concentrating on twisting her brown hair and picking at a loose thread on her top; obviously not listening and off in a dream world of her own.  He was a prime candidate for a heart attack in his early forties, and she was harmless free-spirit; who was still childlike and believed in the goodness in people. Let her have her dreams if they didn’t hurt anybody else; she was bound to be hit by reality sooner or later.

The last girl was reading text messages on her phone; it was pink and covered in crystals, much like it belonged to a six year-old girl playing princess.  Elena noticed she took a cake but didn’t eat it; probably worried about putting on weight from too many carbs.  She was blonde and slim at first glance, but Elena considered her peroxide-dyed hair and gaunt appearance as fake-looking and unhealthy.  Elena could picture her marrying a wealthy footballer, and living out the rest of her days spoiled but empty, until her looks faded and she only had her toy poodle for company.  Elena predicted several divorces in her future.

Were these people really worthy of affecting her?  They were actually pretty pathetic; a prime example of many who frequented the café these days. People full of hot-air and empty gestures.  She cleared away their empty cups and walked back to the counter, smiling to herself.  So what if her family were immigrants?  At least she had knowledge of current affairs, she worked and studied hard and she was open-minded enough to accept people and their opinions, even if they didn’t match her own.  Let them rant about their false politics and pretend to understand what was going on in the world; if it made them feel good for now she didn’t mind.  She had her family, she had a bright future and she would make sure she made a difference for others like her in the future.