‘I also noticed your workstation wasn’t cleared away last night. Yet another infringement of the standards expected of our employees.’
She frowned. ‘I cleared away my workstation. I always leave it immaculate.’
‘Not on this occasion. Your tabard was left on the table.’
Her overall? That was his gripe?
‘Please ensure it doesn’t happen again, or there’ll be grounds for a second official warning.’
She was too stunned to speak.
He pointed to her workstation. ‘Your shift started six minutes ago.’
There was no point arguing. He’d never retract from a decision. He was too afraid of losing face with the other workers. He ruled by fear and intimidation. Compassion wasn’t a characteristic Keith Long possessed. It didn’t matter that her life had been upended four months ago. That sleep still evaded her or that she had to drag herself out of bed each day and force herself to function. All that mattered to her boss was that she showed up for work on time and produced her quota of patterns.
She went over to her workstation and picked up her tabard. The tabard she usually placed in her locker. But not last night it seemed. She’d slipped up again. And boy, was she paying for it.
Dottie and Taye appeared.
Dottie Walsh was seventy-three, grey-haired and heralded from the Home Counties. Taye Malik was forty-seven, originated from South Africa, and spent his weekends deejaying at an East London nightclub. The three of them made for quite an unusual friendship.
Dottie rubbed her arm. ‘Are you okay?’
She shrugged. ‘Not really.’
‘Have you had any breakfast?’
‘No time. I overslept.’ She sighed. ‘The perils of not falling asleep until four a.m.’
‘I’ll fetch you something from the canteen.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’ Lilith searched the room, hoping her boss wasn’t still loitering. ‘I don’t want you getting in trouble with Keith.’
‘I can handle Keith.’ Dottie gave a dismissive wave. ‘If he asks where I am, tell him I’m having bladder problems. It’s my age,’ she said, with a wink. ‘Works every time. He gets so embarrassed, he doesn’t say another word.’ She headed for the canteen.
‘I see Darth Vader was being his usual charming self?’ Taye raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. His shaved afro hair currently sported intricate patterns, and his clothing was always on trend. Unlike her. He scanned her drab grey sweater and faded black jeans.
‘Don’t start,’ she said, feeling self-conscious. ‘I didn’t sleep well.’
He held up his hands. ‘I wasn’t going to say a word.’
‘Liar.’
He smirked. ‘At least your hair looks good.’ He fluffed up her bob. ‘Although it could do with more volume. Do you use mousse when you blow-dry?’
Mousse? She could barely afford bread this month. But today was payday and she was due overtime, so maybe she’d treat herself to some fancy hair products this weekend. She’d used the last of her styling oil on holiday. ‘Sometimes. If I’m going out.’
Not that she went out. Her work colleagues knew some of her troubles, but not the depths of her situation. And she wanted to keep it that way.
She went to pick up her wage slip and tore open the envelope, hoping to distract Taye from focusing on her appearance. She didn’t need him to tell her she looked woeful. She was painfully aware of the fact.
It was a shame, because on holiday wearing vibrant clothes had felt liberating and perfectly in keeping with her surroundings. But once back in dismal Haringey, her desire to be flamboyant had disintegrated, along with her tan. The bright revealing clothes that in the Caribbean had looked evocative and sexy, now looked ridiculous. Like she was trying too hard. Being someone she wasn’t – a fraud.
So the new clothes had been packed away, and Lily had returned to wearing her old stuff and not bothering to style her hair, much to Taye’s disappointment.
In truth, she shared his disappointment. It felt like all the progress she’d made in the Caribbean had evaporated. Her self-esteem was back to being rock-bottom. Long gone was the adventurous spirit that had propelled her to try kayaking, Zumba and snorkelling. She was back to being drab, sad, and feeling wholly untethered. New and improved Lily had well and truly disappeared.
And then she saw her payslip total. ‘You’re kidding me?’
Taye frowned. ‘Problem?’
‘I haven’t been paid any overtime.’
He looked over her shoulder. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Look.’ She showed him the wage slip.
‘They must’ve made a mistake. Did you log the hours?’
‘Definitely. I was relying on that money to use as a deposit when I move house.’ She didn’t want to dip into any more of her nest egg. That cash was safely tucked away, ready for the launch of her new career – which at that moment was looking like a distant fantasy, rather than an achievable reality. But things might change. Especially if she could secure the promotion she had applied for.
Keith Long appeared. ‘You don’t appear to have started work, Miss Monroe?’
‘I’m sorry, but there’s a problem with my pay. I haven’t been paid any overtime this month. Please may I go to Accounts and sort it out?’
‘There’s been no mistake. I declined to authorise overtime this month.’
‘But I was paid overtime,’ Taye said, sticking up for her.
Keith gave him a disdainful look. ‘Is this your workstation, Mr Malik?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then return to your work, please. This matter doesn’t concern you.’
‘But, I—’
‘Would you like a verbal warning, Mr Malik?’
Taye mumbled something under his breath and returned to his workstation.
Lilith turned to her boss. ‘Why didn’t you authorise my overtime?’
‘Overtime is payable at the line manager’s discretion.’
‘I know, but you’ve never refused to authorise it before.’
‘You’ve never been repeatedly late before.’
‘That’s an entirely separate issue.’
‘I disagree. You cannot expect the company to pay for extra hours when you’ve failed to work your regular shift hours. Perhaps if you arrived on time, you wouldn’t need to work extra hours to complete your workload.’
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘I’ve been late four times. Each time by no more than a few minutes.’
‘It adds up.’
‘Not to eighteen hours, it doesn’t, which is the overtime I’ve accrued this month. Overtime which you asked me to do, if you remember, to ensure we met the deadline for the Karen Millen order.’
‘An order we would’ve fulfilled on time if you’d completed your regular hours.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Are you accusing me of lying?’ His gaze narrowed, waiting for her answer.
She needed to tread carefully. She didn’t want to put her promotion chances at risk. ‘No, but I think I’ve a right to challenge why I haven’t been paid for the extra hours I worked.’
‘And I have the right to refuse paying for those extra hours.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s now thirteen minutes past your shift start time and I’ve yet to see any work being done. And you wonder why you don’t get paid?’ He turned to walk off, but then paused. ‘By the way, the team leader role—’
She mentally crossed her fingers. ‘Did I get it?’
‘Unfortunately not.’ He walked off.
‘Why not?’ she called after him.
He ignored her.
A wave of rage raced up her spine. She was the obvious person for the role. She was experienced and dedicated. There was no one better suited. Why hadn’t she got it?
Dottie appeared by her side with a takeaway carton and a coffee. ‘Here, get this down you. But don’t let Keith catch you, you know what he’s like about consuming beverages at workstations.
’
But Lilith was too angry to drink. ‘I didn’t get the team leader role.’
Dottie looked shocked. ‘Why not?’
‘He gave it to his son, that’s why not,’ Taye said, coming over. ‘I just overheard Barbara from Accounts talking about it.’
‘That little twit?’ Dottie looked outraged. ‘He doesn’t know a tuck from a dart.’
Lilith clenched her fists, fighting the urge to scream. ‘He gave the promotion to his son? A twenty-year-old kid who’s been here less than a year?’
Taye shrugged. ‘Looks that way.’ He touched her arm. ‘You okay?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not.’ She fumbled to untie her tabard, indignation burning within her.
Taye’s eyes grew wide. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Quitting,’ she said, screwing the tabard into a ball.
‘Is that wise?’ Dottie glanced around, no doubt checking Keith was out of sight while they tried to talk their friend out of making a huge mistake.
But it wasn’t a mistake. It was destiny. The universe was intervening to give her the kick up the backside she needed. ‘I want to be a designer.’
‘I know, lovey. But you’re also about to be made homeless.’ Taye’s arm went around her. ‘This isn’t the time to be quitting your job. Find a place first, get another job, then quit.’
Tears pooled in Lily’s eyes. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ll never do it. There’ll always be a reason to stay. An excuse. The voice in my head will undermine me and tell me to give it one more year, or hold out for the next promotion. But I’m never going to get that promotion, because Keith won’t allow it. He’s got something against me.’
‘He’s jealous of you,’ Dottie said. ‘He knows you’re more skilled than him. You should be running the shop floor, and he knows it.’
‘It doesn’t matter what the reason is. I don’t want to be shop steward, or team leader, or even continue as a pattern-cutter. I’ve stayed here because it suited me. It was close to home, it allowed me to care for Granddad. It didn’t push me out of my comfort zone. But my life has changed. I need to change, too.’ She searched her friends’ faces. ‘Do you honestly think I should stay here?’
Dottie and Taye exchanged a look, then shook their heads.
‘Me neither.’ Lily threw her tabard on the table. ‘This morning I felt trapped. I was consumed by grief, frozen into carrying on with my sadness, unwilling to be challenged. Scared to try something new. But this has reminded me that I want more. I need more.’
‘But wouldn’t it be better to have a plan in place first?’ Dottie rubbed her chest. ‘This is all so sudden.’
Lilith shook her head. ‘Not really. I’ve wanted this for ever, I’ve just never been able to act on it before. But now I can. There’s nothing stopping me. And I do have a plan. I’m going to spend the weekend writing my CV and sending out samples of my work in the hope someone is willing to offer me an apprenticeship.’
Taye looked unsure. ‘So not a great plan?’
She lifted her chin, aiming for an air of defiance. ‘I disagree. I think it’s an excellent plan… and so does Lily.’
‘Lily?’ Taye looked confused. ‘Who’s Lily?’
‘Me,’ she said. And then overcome with the moment, she climbed onto a stool and addressed the whole room. ‘I am Lily! And I am going to be a costume designer!’
If she expected rapturous applause, it didn’t come. Instead, she was met with a sea of puzzled expressions and complete silence.
Oh, well. She didn’t need anyone else to believe in her. She believed in herself.
Kind of.
Chapter Nine
Sunday, 2 May
As Sunday mornings went, it was pretty typical. The bells from the local Windlesham church were ringing to announce the start of morning service. The low hum of lawn mowers hung in the air like swarms of bees invading the village, and the faint waft of Sunday roasts drifted in through the open bedroom window, merging with the heady scent of cut grass.
Will liked the outdoors. Relaxing in the garden with an occasional glass of wine was as pleasurable as travelling to exciting destinations abroad. Whether it was savouring the tranquillity of a quaint English village, partying in a bustling city centre, or exploring a remote area of conservation, there was always something to enjoy.
His business was thriving. It had been for a few years, so eighteen months ago he’d been able to reward the fruits of his labour by buying an idyllic cottage nestled in a quiet country lane in picturesque Surrey. He’d been won over by the original inglenook fireplace, low-beamed ceilings and thatched roof. Sara would have loved it. She’d always preferred vintage to modern. Shame she’d never got to experience the delights of village life.
The cottage had cost a fortune, mortgaging him up to the hilt. But it was worth it on days like today. Compensation for the long hours he worked, the sacrifices he made. Recompense for the sadness he’d experienced in his life.
It was just disappointing that his daughter didn’t seem as happy as he’d like her to be.
Poppy blew on his pink nails. ‘Pretty,’ she said, admiring her handiwork.
Having his nails painted wasn’t high on his list of enjoyable pastimes, but who else could Poppy practise on? She had no siblings, no mother, and rarely wanted to join her friends on a playdate. Will had been tied up with work all week, and most of yesterday, too, so spending a few hours with his daughter playing dress-up seemed like the least he could do.
‘Nanny and Granddad will be here soon. Aunty Gemma and Zac, too,’ he said, as Poppy untwisted a tube of red lipstick. ‘Are you excited to see them?’
She nodded, aiming for his lips with the lipstick.
He braced himself. He was already wearing blue eyeshadow and pink blusher. He hadn’t shaved this morning, so the blusher made him look like he had a rash, rather than glowing healthy cheeks.
Poppy’s face was a picture of concentration as she applied the colour to his lips.
He couldn’t help smiling.
She was wearing a pale blue top, denim skirt and pink trainers, the colour a match for her bedroom. His daughter might be shy, but her taste in decor was bold and beautiful. Two of the walls were painted pale pink, two dark pink. She’d chosen white voile curtains, matching the canopy above her bed. A huge fluffy rug covered the wooden flooring. Cuddly toys lined her bed, the shelving was packed with colouring books, reading books and a large photo of Colin the Rabbit.
Although his daughter was traditionally girlie when it came to decorating her room, she bucked conformity when it came to naming pets. Her tortoise was called Pete, and the frogs in the pond were Brian and Roger. Her wish was to one day own a dachshund named Doris. So far, Will had resisted getting her one – his work hours weren’t conducive to caring for a dog – but he knew it was only a matter of time before she wore him down.
Next to the photo of Colin was a photo of her mum. It was natural for Poppy to want a reminder of her mummy, and he’d never shirked away from talking about Sara when Poppy asked, even if it was painful. He’d kept the stories light and funny, focusing on the good times they’d shared and how much Sara had loved Poppy. But it was hard when he was frequently asked, ‘why did Mummy die?’ Will had always answered Poppy honestly, as the grief counsellor had instructed him too, but the words never got any easier to say.
Now, Poppy reached over to blot his lips with a tissue. The texture of the lipstick was horrible, thick and creamy. Not like Lily’s lipstick, which he hadn’t minded tasting at all.
Thoughts of Lily twisted his gut. Partly, because he felt guilty for yearning after another woman when his dead wife was smiling at him from the bookshelf. But mostly because he still missed Lily. He should have fought harder. Persuaded her to give him her contact details before they parted. Convinced her somehow that their brief holiday fling didn’t have to end, that it had the potential to develop into something meaningfu
l.
Instead, he’d let her walk away. He hadn’t contradicted her when she’d said she didn’t want an ‘emotional farewell’ and had wimped out. Why hadn’t he admitted that he’d fallen for her? Told her that he’d just experienced the most amazing two weeks of his recent life and he wanted to continue seeing her?
Because he’d bottled it. That’s why.
He didn’t trust what he was feeling was real. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t logical or sensible. It was a fling. A holiday romance. No way was it the ‘real thing’. How could it be after just two weeks?
There hadn’t been anyone serious since Sara. He hadn’t wanted there to be. Relationships were painful and complicated, and would mess with his calm orderly life. Letting someone else close would tip the balance and shatter the fragile dynamic between him and his daughter, and create a ripple that would create mayhem and disorder.
No, walking away was the right thing to do.
So why was he still yearning after her? Why was he panicked at the thought of never seeing Lily again? Why was he constantly imagining what his life might look like with her in it?
It didn’t make sense.
‘Finished!’ Poppy startled him from his thoughts.
He blinked away thoughts of Lily and smiled at his daughter. ‘How do I look?’
‘Weird,’ she said, scrunching up her face. ‘Scary.’
He glanced into the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe. Scary was an understatement. He looked like a cross between a bad drag queen and a psychotic clown.
‘It’s better than last time,’ he said, searching for a positive. ‘Your make-up’s fine, it’s me that’s the problem. I’m a terrible model.’
‘True,’ she said, making him laugh.
He stood up, his knees stiff from sitting on the low stool. ‘Cousin Zac will be here soon. You can practise on him. He looks better in make-up than I do.’
‘Will you leave the make-up on so I can show Zac? He can tell me what I did wrong?’
‘No, sweetie. There’s no way I’m hosting a family BBQ looking like this.’ He loved his daughter, but he drew the line at public humiliation.
Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance Page 11
