by K. L. Slater
He stopped to draw breath, his face growing redder by the second.
‘And then you realised it was me,’ Holly provided.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I realised the person being interviewed was you. Mrs Barrett’s… visitor.’
He shifted from foot to foot, staring at the book on the table but saying nothing more.
‘Small world, isn’t it?’ She smiled. ‘Join me if you like.’
His face flushed further still.
‘I… I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m just getting a coffee to take back to my office. But thank you. Thanks for asking me to sit here with you.’
‘Hey, it’s no big deal.’ She shrugged and picked up her fork again.
David didn’t move.
‘I’ve worked here for ten months and nobody’s ever asked me to sit with them. In here.’
‘Oh!’ Holly paused before continuing. ‘Well, you’re always welcome to join me, maybe when you have a longer break.’
‘I don’t take breaks as a rule.’
‘Why not? You’re entitled, you know.’
‘There are drivers around here who’d take advantage.’
‘Parking up outside, you mean?’
‘Violating the rules,’ David said gravely. ‘There are a handful of regular offenders who’d love to get one up on me.’
‘I see.’ Holly jabbed at her salad with the fork. She was getting a little tired of the stilted conversation. ‘Well, don’t let me stop you then.’
‘Billy Casper,’ he remarked.
‘What? Oh yes.’ She patted the book. ‘Good old Billy Casper.’
‘I’ve read it,’ he said. ‘It’s rather sad at the end.’
‘Yes, it is,’ she agreed. ‘But I think there’s hope there too. Wouldn’t you agree?’
He thought for a moment. She waited for his opinion on the story, but it didn’t come.
‘I’ll get my coffee then,’ was all he said. ‘Goodbye, Holly.’
‘See you around, David.’
She smiled to herself as he moved away without replying. He was an odd one, for sure, but it took all sorts and she was used to taking a chance on people. It was often the people who appeared most normal that you had to watch.
* * *
Ten years ago, she’d really had no choice in the matter. She’d had to trust Markus and agree to his plan to stay for one night in that hellhole of a house.
But at the time it had certainly felt like she’d made a mistake putting her faith in him, as they’d lugged their cases and rucksacks upstairs.
They’d had to squat down in a filthy corner in the upstairs front bedroom. It had stunk in there too, of unwashed bodies and worse. As her eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, Holly had spotted a foul-smelling bucket under the window, spotlighted every time a car drove down the street.
She’d clutched a handkerchief to her mouth and nose and drawn her knees up under her chin. She could smell, very faintly, Aunt Susan’s perfume on the lace-edged hankie. She recalled her aunt giving it to her when Holly had got upset one night over her mother’s death.
Those times had been rare. Holly hadn’t enjoyed a close relationship with her mother.
Since Holly had been about ten years old, alcohol had been Julie’s number one priority. With the worsening drink problem, the little girl had never known what was coming next.
There were sometimes strange men in the house, in the bedroom with Julie. Little Holly had stood at the door and listened to the giggles and moans of pleasure, and wondered why her mother had instructed her to stay downstairs in the cold living room on her own.
Other times, Julie had been very ill and Holly had had no choice but to mop up diarrhoea and vomit all night long.
Consequently she had always felt happier and more secure when she’d been on her own. Still, she’d often grieved her skewed view of the mother–daughter relationship.
She’d overhear the girls at school talking about enjoying a shopping day or going out for lunch with their mothers, and it stung. Holly had never known how that felt.
Aunt Susan had been sympathetic on the rare occasions Holly had got upset in front of her, and now, as she sat clutching the scrap of lace-edged cotton to her face, she felt a pang of loss at the thought of having left her aunt so abruptly.
She only allowed herself a moment of such sentimental indulgence, though, swiftly reminding herself that she shouldn’t get sucked in to reinventing her time with her aunt and uncle as a cosy family atmosphere.
The reality was that during the daytime, she’d been as miserable as sin at school, at the mercy of the mean girls there, but she’d still felt more at home – and certainly safer – in the school library and even the park than she had in the house alone with creepy Keith.
When her aunt finally got home from work in the evenings, Holly had to pretend everything was fine, because it was painfully clear that Susan would always refuse to contemplate that her husband could possibly be anything but decent.
Tomorrow, she reminded herself, a fresh new start would await her.
Beside her, Markus let out a soft snore. She’d decided not to bother waking him in an hour’s time, as they’d agreed. She’d realised there was no way she could manage even a second of shut-eye in this godforsaken place, and there was no sense in them both staying awake all night.
If Markus got some rest, Holly had reasoned, he’d hopefully rise refreshed and ready to sort out some alternative arrangements for their accommodation tomorrow evening.
She was yet to find out exactly what her new opportunity might be, but whatever she was offered, she’d already decided she had to take it.
She honestly didn’t care what she would be doing, so long as it was legal and she made some money. She longed to get some independence back.
Back then, that had seemed to be the most important thing.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holly
After lunch, a wealthy-looking middle-aged couple entered the store. Holly watched in amazement as Emily sprang into action like a newly wound clockwork toy.
She sashayed across the shop, her arms extended before her as though greeting dear long-lost friends.
‘Mr and Mrs Fenwick,’ she announced dramatically, sweeping by salesman Ben Dixon, who for a moment or two had looked in danger of getting to the customers before her. ‘It’s been far too long!’
Quickly tiring of watching a newly energised Emily air-kissing her customers and assuring them how well they looked, Holly opened the large cardboard box in front of her and carefully peeled away the masses of bubble wrap to reveal an exquisite black glass Lalique vase.
She gently fingered the tiny, almost translucent pale pink glass flowers that dotted the lip of the vase and then cascaded down one shoulder. It was truly one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
‘And how’s dear Willem doing at boarding school?’ Holly tuned back in to Emily’s impressive performance as she gently dusted off the vase. ‘They’re so lucky to have him, little genius that he is. You must be so proud.’
Holly allowed herself a small cynical smile, noting that her endlessly irritated colleague could convincingly morph into Miss Personality when the mood took her.
It also didn’t escape Holly’s notice that the whole time Emily was oohing and aahing at the digital photographs of the Fenwicks’ amazing break in Milan on Mrs Fenwick’s phone, she was steadily leading them, inch by inch, towards the front of the shop, where the brand-new range of gold-plated feather boa lamps had been displayed.
Without noticing her ploy, the Fenwicks followed, continuing to loudly gush over every detail of their fabulous lives since their last visit to the store.
Holly even felt a grudging respect for Emily. Whatever she might think of her as a colleague, there was no doubt at all that she was extremely good at her job.
She carefully placed the vase on the special marble pedestal stand that Josh had brought over to display it at its best. She swallowed hard w
hen she saw the tiny white price sticker that would be concealed by its base.
Two thousand pounds. For what amounted to a fancy piece of glass, for goodness’ sake! Yes, it was beyond beautiful, but it occurred to her that in the real world, that amount would cover some people’s rent or mortgage payments for months.
Following Josh’s earlier instructions, she clicked the silky black security rope in place in front of the pedestal. They used it purely for show, to discourage customers from getting too close to the most fragile pieces.
‘Now, I’ve something special to share with you.’ Emily’s voice dropped lower, but fortunately Holly was well within eavesdropping range. ‘As soon as I saw these divine lamps, I thought of you. I shouldn’t really tell you this, but…’ she glanced around, apparently to ensure nobody else was listening, ‘we only have the two lamps in. They’re limited-edition stock direct from the exclusive Haus of Rome, and as you can imagine, they’re like gold dust to source.’
Holly noted Emily’s meaningful pause before her killer finish.
‘They’re retailing at twelve hundred each, or as a special deal, I can do the pair for just two thousand pounds.’
The extortionate price tag elicited a snort from Mr Fenwick, but his wife remained entranced by the convincing sales patter.
‘However, there’s good news,’ Emily continued smoothly. ‘I’ve had special clearance from Mr Kellington himself to offer them to you, my best clients, for a mere eighteen hundred the pair.’ She flashed an excited smile, as if she could barely believe the bargain she’d been able to extend to them.
‘I don’t know,’ Mr Fenwick said doubtfully. ‘Perhaps we’ll have a look around before we make a decision and—’
Emily cut in as if he’d never spoken.
‘I immediately thought of you because I know how much Mrs Fenwick loves her black-and-gold colour scheme in the lounge. I can almost picture them there myself.’
‘You’re so right, Emily!’ Mrs Fenwick clapped her hands together and turned to her husband. ‘Oh darling, they’d go so perfectly in there.’
‘We already own more fancy lamps than you can shake a stick at,’ her husband growled. ‘The house’ll be in danger of resembling Blackpool illuminations soon.’
‘But I could take out those Tiffany-style lamps we’ve had for a while and put the new ones in their place.’
‘I don’t know, Amanda. These lamps are very expensive, and—’
‘Look, I’m probably going to get in trouble for doing this,’ Emily confided. ‘But what if I could do them for sixteen hundred the pair? They’re so exclusive, they’re probably the only two in the whole of the East Midlands right now. I’d hate you to miss out.’
There was a beat or two of tense silence.
‘You know, darling, I just don’t think I can go home without them,’ Mrs Fenwick simpered, leaning in to her husband. ‘And sixteen hundred… well, it’s a bargain.’
‘Oh, go on then.’ He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. ‘You two just tie me up in knots every time I come in here.’
Emily and Mrs Fenwick embraced and giggled together conspiratorially like schoolgirls.
Holly smiled to herself as she carried the surplus packaging from the vase into the back office. Emily didn’t have a clue that this afternoon she’d kindly provided her with a masterclass in how to sell the most expensive items.
She pushed the box and bubble wrap into the waste materials corner of the small room, ready for collection by the warehouse staff.
When she turned to leave, a handwritten list on the desk caught her attention.
It was a breakdown of bottom-line sales prices for all the items currently on display in the store. Josh had shown her a similar list on her first day.
‘You can check here how far you can discount the more expensive items to give our regular customers the best deal,’ he’d explained.
Holly shook her head in disbelief when she read the top line:
Haus of Rome feather boa lamps – £1,250 the pair.
The Fenwicks had just paid £350 over the odds for their lamps, and yet they’d been made to feel they’d been given a very special one-off deal to reward their loyalty to Kellington’s.
Emily had added a very nice fifteen per cent boost – at the higher price – to her commission total for the month.
The following day, Holly witnessed her colleague using exactly the same method on different customers when she sold a pricey mirrored coffee table for twenty per cent higher than the back-room list price.
You had to hand it to her. She knew exactly how to sell to Kellington’s wealthiest customers, each time securing herself a very generous bonus in the process.
They all thought they were her special VIP clients, receiving a preferential service from Kellington’s top saleswoman, but of course, the last laugh was always on them, as they fell for Emily’s flattery hook, line and sinker.
Holly got the distinct feeling that when it came to boosting her own salary, there was much to be learned from her colleague.
Emily appeared to have an instinctive sense of what made people tick.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Holly
On arriving home from work each day, Holly walked down the side of the house and used the back door, which led directly into the kitchen.
It was a large room, with mismatched, dated units. No work island or breakfast bar; just a small wooden table in the centre of the room that now, thanks to David, had two chairs pulled up to it.
‘Hello?’ she called out to Cora, as was her habit upon stepping into the house. ‘Oh!’
She stopped and closed the door softly behind her. Cora sat at the table with a man who looked to be in his mid forties. There were two mugs on the table, and some paperwork.
Cora looked up and smiled.
‘Holly, this is Mr Brown. He lives two doors down; it’s the house with the green front door and the mature weeping willow in the garden.’
‘You make it sound very grand, Cora.’ Mr Brown grinned. ‘Hello, Holly.’
‘Hello,’ Holly said shyly.
He was a good-looking man in an outdoors type of way, with a ruddy complexion and light-brown hair. He wore a checked shirt and khaki combats that somehow held the suggestion of toned muscle lying below them.
He stood up and inspected his hand before extending it to her. ‘Just checking I’m not covered in soil. It’s the gardener’s curse.’
They smiled at each other and Holly felt Cora’s eyes on her.
‘Mr Brown is here to do the garden,’ Cora said from behind him.
‘My name’s Nick, by the way.’ He sat back down. ‘Mr Brown makes me sound a bit like a bank manager.’
Holly laughed.
‘Well, I wouldn’t presume to introduce you so informally on your first meeting with my visitor, Nicholas,’ Cora said with a tight smile. ‘One has to at least try and preserve a few manners these days, wouldn’t you agree?’
It hadn’t escaped Holly’s notice that Cora always introduced her to other people by her first name.
‘I was just showing Cora a few sketches of some plans for the garden,’ Nick said, turning a couple of sheets around on the tabletop so Holly could see.
‘It all seems very modern,’ Holly said, surprised that Cora approved of such a lack of traditional features. ‘Decking and a pond. Lovely.’
‘Nicholas is very talented.’ Cora beamed.
‘You’re making me blush now.’ He glanced at the wall clock. ‘Oh well, I’d better get on. Thanks for the tea and the chat, Cora.’
‘Any time, Nicholas.’ Cora smiled. ‘You know that.’
‘Are you starting it soon… the landscaping work?’ Holly asked.
‘Oh no, we’re still at the planning stage,’ Nick said. ‘I’m just here to mow the lawns today.’
‘I’ll take another look at the sketches and let you know which one I prefer next week,’ Cora said, gathering up the paperwork. She looked at Holly. ‘I
’ve just a few bits to finish off upstairs and then we can have tea together, dear.’
After the long day at work on her feet, Holly’s heart sank at the thought of another long night ahead filled with Cora’s endless nostalgia. She hadn’t been sleeping that well, so felt doubly exhausted.
Last night she’d sat up in bed for ages, sifting through what felt like thousands of Facebook profiles, trying and failing to find the right ones.
She seemed to be able to drop off to sleep no problem, but then regrets and unresolved pain from her past tended to resurface with a vengeance in the early hours and savage her with the ferocity of a terrier until dawn finally broke.
Nick went outside and Holly heard Cora’s heavy footfall ascending the stairs. Still clutching her handbag, and with her shoes and short rain mac on, she stood at the kitchen window and watched as Nick wrestled Cora’s antiquated mower out of the shed.
He’d slipped off his fleecy checked shirt and now worked in a pale green T-shirt. As he pulled the mower out, his back muscles rippled under the thin fabric. When he turned, his toned biceps grew taut.
To her horror, he looked up sharply and grinned at her.
She took a step back, but it was too late. He knew she’d been watching him.
He beckoned to her, and as it would be rude to ignore him, she opened the door and stepped down onto the paved patio area.
Her attention was diverted when a ruddy-faced man leaned over David’s side of the fence.
‘Alright love? Just wanted to say hello, with you being new and all that. I’m Brian.’
He leaned his forearms over the fence and she saw that they were heavily tattooed.
‘Hello,’ she said tentatively. ‘I’m Holly. Pleased to meet you.’
‘On your own, are you?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Moved in here on your own? No boyfriend or anything.’
Her flesh crawled.
