Heller's Regret

by JD Nixon

  By the close of the display for the night, I was a wreck from standing all day. Farrell also appeared a little ragged around the edges. We hadn’t had time to stop for lunch or even had a chance to duck off for a quick pee.

  “Heller’s going to rip my nuts off when he finds out you didn’t have any lunch or a break during the day.”

  “You didn’t get to either. It wasn’t your fault we were so busy.”

  I waited for him to finish and when he did, we drove back to the Warehouse. We agreed to meet at eight the next morning, giving us loads of time to set up before the exhibit opened at ten.

  “Bye, Hugh. See you tomorrow,” I said indistinctly through a jaw-cracking yawn.

  “Tomorrow, Chalmers.”

  I went straight to my place, had a shower, crammed three slices of unadorned bread into my mouth, and gulped down a couple of glasses of water before hitting the sack. I’d gone far beyond exhausted into new realms of tiredness, sleeping solidly all night.

  The next morning, after I dressed for work, I popped down to Heller’s office to say hello, stunned when he told me I’d been sleeping so heavily, I didn’t even stir when he joined me later in the night.

  “It must be the first time that ever happened. I always know when you’re there.”

  He kissed me. “You must have been very tired.”

  “You have no idea. I was totally beat.” One second too late, I realised that was the wrong thing to say to him.

  “Maybe this job is too strenuous for you, my sweet.”

  “Aw, Heller, don’t take me off it, please. I’m enjoying myself. I love looking at the jewels,” I cajoled, sweetening my words by sitting on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. Talking to him was like tiptoeing through a minefield. I had to be careful not to set off any Farrell bombs by mentioning how much I appreciated working with him. Instead, I used my mighty powers of distraction – also known as my lips – to distract him. When I found a chance to breathe again, I teased, “I found a lovely necklace you can buy me.”

  “Oh, yes?” he asked, skeptical.

  “Search for the exhibition on your computer,” I directed, sliding off his lap. He did what I asked, curious. I rested my arm across his shoulders and pointed at the flower necklace. “That one.”

  He read the description of it. “You’re seeing a lovely necklace, but all I’m seeing here is the amount of rare jewels in the pendant. Much as I’d like to buy you a present, I don’t need to check my bank balance to know this one’s too expensive for me.”

  I laughed. “It’s very beautiful though. I can’t wait to look at it again today. But,” I leaned down to kiss his cheek, “as you know, there are plenty of other necklaces in the world.”

  He smiled and pulled me down on his lap again. “You’re not very subtle, Matilda.”

  “And you’re not very good at picking up hints. I have to be blunt.”

  We shared more delicious kisses for a long while, until interrupted by Daniel. Again. The guy had a sixth sense for when we were becoming romantic.

  He groaned. “Why don’t you put a sign out or something to spare innocent bystanders the trauma of catching you unawares?”

  “Daniel,” Heller said, a little sharp. “I don’t know how you do it, but I wish you’d stop.”

  “I wish you two would stop.”

  “Wait,” I demanded suddenly. “What time is it?”

  Daniel checked his watch. I’d left mine on my dressing table and was too lazy to retrieve it. Hot kisses from Heller were worth any amount of inconvenience for not knowing the time all day. “Five to eight.”

  “Shit, I’m going to be late.”

  I wriggled off Heller’s lap, kissed him one last time, kissed Daniel on the cheek and flew into the office bathroom in case I didn’t get a chance to pee for a long time again. I took the stairs too fast, at one stage almost tripping over my boots and tumbling down, managing to grab the bannister at the last second to save myself. I burst into the security section, startling most of the men inside.

  “You can tell you’re back. You’re like a cyclone,” said Clive. I couldn’t tell if he was being snide or funny, but knowing him, funny wasn’t a Clive thing. But at least he’d talked to me. I’d take that as a small step forward.

  Farrell glanced down at his watch. “One minute to eight.”

  “I’m on time. What are you complaining about?”

  “Get moving,” was all he said in response, and again I had to hurry to keep up with him, firmly holding onto the bannister this time.

  At the department store, while Farrell received another briefing from Mrs Burwood, who giggled like a fifteen-year-old throughout the conversation, I gazed at the necklace again. It was even more beautiful than I remembered. When it rotated to the other side, I impatiently waited for it to return to mine. It was set up to rotate, stopping for a minute on each side, enabling everyone in the room to see it properly.

  I stared at it, mesmerised by the sparkle of the different gemstones in the well-positioned, discreet lighting. Each gem had been cut by an expert lapidary to showcase it to its best advantage. Sighing, I tore myself away from the display to go outside and straighten the bollards and rope in the queue.

  Farrell finally extricated himself from Mrs Burwood’s attention.

  “I think she’s sweet on you,” I smiled.

  “Stop it.”

  “Did you hear her giggling?”

  “I was there, Chalmers. Of course I did.”

  “Did she flutter her eyelashes at you too? Ask for your number?”

  “Are you going to do any work today?”

  “I am working. While you’ve been busy flirting, I checked on the jewels to make sure they’re okay.”

  He blinked at me, his gaze unmoving, and that was enough to express his opinion of that spurious activity.

  “And now I’m tidying the queue restraints,” I tried again.

  “Sounds like busy work to me.” He looked around the store floor. “I’d kill for a coffee right now.”

  “I’ll play fetch. It’s ages until we open. I don’t know why you made us come here so early.”

  “It’s always better to be prepared.”

  “Not this prepared. What do you want?”

  “Double shot, flat white, no sugar, skim, jumbo size,” he shot out, not hesitating to think. A man who knew what he liked.

  “I’m surprised you allow yourself the luxury of milk. I thought you’d order a triple shot espresso, being such a tough man and all.”

  “Just go get the coffee. I can do without the side order of smartarse comments.”

  There were only a few customers at this time of the day at the nearest coffee stand. I waited for one person to be served before my order was taken. I also bought two bottles of water for us as it didn’t appear the department store was willing to cough up some for our benefit. I returned to my post, my hands full of coffee, a water bottle carried under each armpit.

  Mrs Burwood rushed forward when she saw me with the beverages. “You can’t drink those in the room. Or in the store, for that matter.”

  “Can’t we keep the waters in the room at least? They’re in bottles and we were parched yesterday, not having any breaks.”

  “I suppose that would be all right, as long as they’re hidden off to the side. But you have to drink the coffees out here, even though that’s against store rules,” she decided reluctantly, glaring at me as if I planned to run amok in the store, impishly splashing my cappuccino on her silk scarves and watches.

  “Okay.” I called into the room, “Hugh, get out here.”

  Before taking his coffee, he pulled the water bottles from my armpits. They’d left condensation on my clothes that made it look like I was sweating heavily.

  He noticed my dismay when I touched the dampness. I spent a lot of good money on a deodorant that promised eternal dryness of the underarm area, so didn’t want a few drops of unexpected water to ruin my look of complete calmness and control
.

  “Don’t pretend you’ve worked that hard,” Farrell said blandly. I pulled a face at him that decisively destroyed any calmly controlled look surviving from my deodorant disaster.

  We sipped our coffees quietly. I savoured mine, licking the creamy froth from my lips with relish. But thinking of it reminded me of tea, which in turn reminded me of Miss Grimsley’s tea. I wondered if this was how it would always be for me – disparate things freshly triggering an endless loop of that terrible experience in my mind.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Farrell, as sharp as ever.

  “Bad memories resurfacing.”

  Though his face didn’t change, I picked up (or imagined I did) a faint hint of sympathy. I didn’t want sympathy from him or any of my fellow workmates. What happened in the past was often best left there.

  As if reading my mind, Farrell said, “That was then, this is now.” And I didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry with him.

  With ten minutes to go before opening time, Francine joined me as I gazed at the necklace again. I was a bit embarrassed, starting to feel like a jewellery stalker.

  “You seem very taken with this piece.”

  I reddened. “Oh, well, you know. It’s very pretty. I’ve never seen anything like it.” To take her mind of my weird behaviour, I asked, “Who’s the guy who worked on the queue yesterday?”

  “Oh, him,” she said scornfully. “He works with me. He’s a complete moron. Thinks he knows everything about jewellery, but he doesn’t. We don’t get on too well.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it. What’s his name?”

  “Jaegar.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “There’s nothing more he loves than telling everyone it means ‘hunter’. A human has never before been so misnamed in the history of the world. He’s too stupid to hunt anything.”

  “You really don’t like him.”

  “You wouldn’t either if you had to work with him, trust me. And it’s not as if I can get away from him. Apart from Mrs Burwood, the jerk and I are the only permanent staff. All the others we have are casuals. So we’re expected to be a team.”

  “I thought he was pretty good-looking.”

  She indicated the door with a flourish. “Go for it. He’s all yours. Nobody else wants him.”

  “Er, no thanks. I already have a boyfriend and he’s enough for me.”

  “He brags about his fantastic ‘social life’ all the time. I’ve wasted more breath than I care to remember trying to get it through his thick skull that screwing a different drunken scrag each week doesn’t constitute a social life.” She shook her head. “Like I said, utter moron.”

  “It must make Mrs Burwood’s life difficult if you two are at each other’s necks all day.”

  She shrugged. “He starts most of the trouble. He sucks up to her all the time. It makes me sick. And he thinks he knows everything about jewellery. I have much better qualifications than him, but he argues with me about everything. It drives me crazy.”

  “Opening time,” interrupted Mrs Burwood, popping her head through the doorway.

  “Oops, I better scuttle,” said Francine and left.

  I moved over to the other side of the room from Farrell. Through the doorway I saw Francine walk past Jaegar. They conspicuously ignored each other, turning their heads away. It must really affect team dynamics to have such animosity between two staff members. I wondered why Mrs Burwood hadn’t stamped down on it from the beginning. She certainly didn’t look the type to be too timid to confront her staff about their behaviour.

  I didn’t have time to ponder this any further because the room filled to maximum capacity with those first in line. As Farrell had predicted, even this early on in the day it was clear that the crowd would reach bumper numbers. After an hour, Farrell indicated I should go outside to take over crowd control from Jaegar. Though the queue was mostly well behaved, there were the usual problems of impatience, irritability and sheer hot-headedness with which to deal.

  Jaegar didn’t immediately disappear on my arrival. He remained behind, fiddling around with the queue props while I patrolled the perimeter of the queue, glaring at anyone who even looked as though they were going to step out of line. After a couple of circuits, I joined Jaegar.

  “Sounds like you and Francine don’t get along very well,” I commented casually.

  He sighed. “She’s been bitching about me again? Bad form to air our dirty laundry. Not that it’s ever stopped her before.” I couldn’t help agreeing with him. It wasn’t a good look for the department store or her.

  “She told me a little,” I said tactfully.

  “She’s a repressed singleton who probably hasn’t had a date for years, if ever. She’s worked here forever and has long thought of herself as Mrs Burwood’s favourite.” He rolled his eyes. “As if anyone would be excited by that prospect. She’s resented me from the day I started working here, imagining I’m trying to outshine her or steal her sales. God! She needs to get a life. I’ve never met anyone with a bigger stick up their butt before.”

  “You don’t like her much either.”

  “I’m a friendly person. When I first started I tried to engage with her, like any normal person would do in a new workplace, but she brushed me off every time. She disagrees with everything I say, and even denigrates me for having inferior qualifications to her, though I don’t. Now I’ve completely given up on having any kind of cordial relationship with her. It’s much better if we ignore each other.”

  “Must be hard for Mrs Burwood.”

  “She’s torn strips off us heaps of times for bickering, but it doesn’t seem to make much difference. Francine picks at me again the second Mrs Burwood turns her back. So her new suggestion for us is that we ignore each other. We’ve been doing it for a week and it seems to be working for now.” He looked over towards his section. “I better get back to the counter. We’re really busy at the moment because we’re selling replica pieces of the collection jewellery. They’re flying off the shelves, especially the necklace replica. People are going nuts over it. Yes, technically it’s almost perfect, but I think it’s too showy. Not my kind of piece at all. I prefer jewellery that’s more subtle.”

  I guess now wasn’t the time to mention my own obsession with the necklace to him. “Have fun,” I said.

  “You too,” he replied with a cute ironic quirk of his lips that had me watching him as he walked off. He was one good-looking guy.

  The day was hectic and tiring. Once again, we didn’t find any chance for a break, and I was elated when closing time finally rolled around. One more day, I told myself. Surely I could last that long?

  On our way out, I loitered at the jewellery counter eyeballing the replica necklace. I could afford one of those, though it was a fairly expensive piece. But I’d always know it was only a replica. It just didn’t have the same beauty or attraction for me as the real one.

  I let Farrell drag me away.

  Chapter 15

  Back home I checked in with the guys, but they were busy, Daniel pulling some overtime to meet a deadline and Niq desperately trying to finish an assignment due tomorrow which he was yet to start. With nobody else to talk to, I changed and went to the rooftop. I sat in the hot tub by myself, singing a song that had been stuck in my head for days and allowing myself a glass of chilled wine.

  I’d almost dangerously drifted off to sleep in the hot tub when someone said my name. I jolted awake and upright. It was Clive of all people. Geez, what had I done wrong now? I hadn’t even been in the office for two days and I’d been doing my job conscientiously, as far as I knew.

  “Clive?” I asked warily.

  He grabbed a chair from the dining area and plonked it down next to the hot tub, sitting heavily in it. His craggy features revealed his conflicting emotions, as if he simultaneously did and didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t imagine what he was planning to say to me.

  I waited for him to speak.

  “Tilly
,” he started, pausing for so long I thought that was the extent of our conversation. How was I supposed to respond to that? Say “Clive” back to him, pleased we’d remembered each other’s names?

  The silence stretched awkwardly between us. When he spoke again he couldn’t quite meet my eyes. “I shouldn’t have sent you to that boot camp without researching it further. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry they treated you so badly. I should have dealt with the whole matter in a better way, keeping you at home. Heller was angry with me.” The pain of that rebuke clouded his face still. I couldn’t mock him for that. I’d experienced the lasting sting of a rebuke (or a right old bollocking) from Heller far too often. “I resented that for a long while. But after that . . . other job, I realised how much you’d been through. And apart from that first day when you came back from the boot camp, you’ve never reproached me or blamed me for what happened.” He stood up, carefully tucking the chair back under the table. “I’m very sorry and it won’t happen again, I promise. Heller trusted me to ensure your safety in his absence. I failed him and I failed you. I can’t forgive myself for that.”

  His words robbed me of speech. If I’d thought about how the situation between Clive and me would resolve itself – and I had – I would never have considered him apologising to me in such a simple, genuine way.

  “It’s okay, Clive. It’s done with now. I’m happy to just move on and put all that behind me.”

  “Thank you, Tilly. That’s very generous of you.” He met left quietly.

  I sat in the hot tub thinking over what he’d said. It was such an unexpected gesture that I wasn’t sure how to file it away in my memory.

  The interruption broke my dozy mood. I shivered, not having realised before how cold I’d grown. Showered, dressed in pyjamas, and with a glass of milk next to me, I surfed the internet and answered emails. Opening one from Dixie, my heart sank to find another uncomfortable, gushing email and happy pic. She’d admitted this guy was a bad boy and a player. What was she thinking to become so involved with him? She should have just shared a wild night with him, taken a pic of him naked and asleep, and kicked him out in the morning. Like she usually did. It made me queasy to look at a snap of her draping herself over him in a restaurant, beaming into her phone camera. I wanted to be happy for her and sincerely hoped I was completely wrong about this guy, left feeling foolish and judgmental afterwards.