by K. L. Slater
‘You can have the room with the view,’ Markus had told her.
‘Really? I would love to sleep in there. We can swap after tonight if you like.’
‘It’s fine,’ he’d said. ‘Knock yourself out, Holls.’
Holly had sensed he seemed a little withdrawn.
‘Are you feeling OK? You’re… I don’t know… a little bit quieter than usual.’
‘I’m fine.’ He’d yawned widely. ‘Sorry, I’m just so tired. In fact, I think I’m gonna crash right now and sleep through until morning.’
Holly had stared at him in horror. ‘It’s only six o’clock! I was going to cook us something. I—’
‘I’m really sorry.’ He’d shrugged, suddenly looking exhausted. ‘I just need to sleep.’
When Markus had gone to bed, Holly sat alone in the living room. Even though it was cool outside, she cracked open the French doors slightly and stared mesmerised at the view.
The silence and thinking time allowed her to analyse the unfamiliar feeling in the middle of her chest. She’d had it for the last couple of hours: a sort of lightness, a feeling that everything was going to be fine. It made a change from the usual way she felt: that there was something in the air to fear or dread.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Holly
The bus journey to work had gone quickly. Holly looked up as the bus pulled into the Victoria Centre bus station.
Sucking in a deep breath, she cleared her mind of swarming thoughts from the past and crossed the busy main road to walk down Huntingdon Street to Kellington’s.
Feeling better for the fresh air, she quickened her step and focused her mind on the day ahead.
She couldn’t stop old memories from surfacing, but neither could she afford to dwell on them all day. Although she couldn’t completely ignore what had happened, the past was the past and she needed to focus all her energy on a better future.
So long as she kept reminding herself of that, she remained confident that she’d move forward in her life.
She turned up the narrow side street that led to the back entrance and the store’s car park. For the first time since she’d worked there, she walked closer to the building and, as she passed, peered directly into the glass kiosk that presided over the car park.
David sat in there chewing the end of a ballpoint pen. His head bowed, he seemed thoroughly absorbed in studying the handwritten list on a clipboard in front of him. On his desk was a very neat row of coloured pens, a stapler and a telephone. Apart from the clipboard and a book, that was all.
She tapped on the glass and called out brightly, ‘Morning, David.’
He jumped up, almost falling over his chair in the process.
Holly entered the building, managing to straighten her face as she stepped into the foyer.
David slid open the internal glass hatch, through which he usually handed customers their parking authorisation tickets.
‘Morning, Holly,’ he said, his glowing cheeks belying his casual tone. ‘How are you? How is Mrs Barrett? How are you settling in here?’
She pressed an index finger to her pursed lips and assumed a puzzled look.
‘Which question should I answer first?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’ He took a breath. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ She smiled and reached for the door handle to enter the store, but then let her hand drop again. It wouldn’t hurt to pass the time of day with him. Instead of thinking of cunning ways to get to the bottom of what had happened to affect David so badly, maybe she ought to wait for the right moment and then just ask him herself.
She turned towards him. ‘I’ve had a really good first couple of weeks here, thanks, and I’m feeling quite at home at Cora’s. How are you, David?’
‘OK, I suppose. At least I was…’ A muscle flexed in his jaw as if he was trying to fight saying something. ‘It’s just that… well, Brian has moved in with us now.’
‘Brian is your…’
‘He’s Mother’s friend,’ he said morosely.
‘I see.’ She recalled the ruddy-faced bald man she’d seen in the garden.
She glanced at David’s mouth, which was set in a grim line. ‘Aren’t you very happy about it then, Brian moving in?’
‘He can be quite a difficult man,’ David said slowly, tapping his pen on the counter. ‘You know the sort.’
‘Oh yes,’ Holly said meaningfully as she spotted Emily’s black Z4 enter the car park. ‘I know exactly the sort of person you mean.’
David followed her eyes and nodded.
Something caught Holly’s eye on the desk.
‘Oh, you’re reading Rear Window. That’s one of my favourite films.’ She beamed.
When she’d first arrived at Geraldine’s, she’d loved nothing more than running a nice, relaxing bubble bath in her private en suite bathroom and taking an hour for herself with a good book. She’d loved the film and this was one of the titles she’d read.
‘Yes, they made the film in 1954, you know. It’s on at the Broadway cinema the week after next; they show a classic film matinee now every weekend,’ David said matter-of-factly, breaking into her reverie.
‘Is it? Nice. Are you going to see it?’
‘No, no.’ He began to tidy his already pristine desk. ‘I don’t generally go out at the weekends.’
‘Is that because of… something that happened to you?’
He looked at her, frowning, and she felt her face heat up.
‘Something that happened?’ he repeated sharply.
‘It was just something Cora said, when she first told me you lived next door… just that…’ She was babbling. Why on earth had she chosen to tackle the subject now? ‘Sorry. Forget I said anything.’
‘I don’t go out a lot because I have other work to do,’ David said frostily. ‘When I’m not here, that is.’
In a moment of placatory madness, Holly said, ‘Well that’s a shame, because I’d love to see the film again but I’ve nobody to go with.’
David stared at her, his face blank.
The outer door flew open and Emily stomped into the small foyer. David glanced out of his window at the car park and coughed.
‘Miss Beech…’
‘Don’t start this morning, David,’ Emily snapped, glaring first at Holly and then back at him. ‘The car park is practically empty at this time, so save your whining for somebody else.’
‘But you see, Mr Kellington likes designated spots for staff and customers, and you’ve just parked in a customer space.’
‘I simply parked where there was an empty space. There’s no sign telling me I can’t park there, so you needn’t bother complaining to Mr Kellington again.’ She stormed past Holly and pulled open the door into the store before glaring back at her pointedly. ‘Frankly, that’s all I need, another jobsworth grassing me up.’
‘Oh dear,’ David said once she’d gone. ‘Miss Beech seemed rather upset.’
‘I wouldn’t worry, David, she’s prickly at the best of times.’ Holly reached for the door handle herself. ‘Right, I’d best be off. Have a nice day.’
‘You too,’ he called after her. ‘See you soon, Holly… I hope.’
Holly walked straight upstairs into the staff office to lock her handbag away. Some of the other staff were already in there and murmured their good mornings. Martyn pulled the corners of his mouth down behind Emily’s back to indicate to Holly that their colleague was in a bad mood.
It wouldn’t have taken much to guess, even if Holly had not already witnessed it in the foyer. Emily tossed her flat driving shoes into her locker and then pushed her stockinged feet aggressively into a pair of heels that she plucked forcibly from its depths.
Holly watched her surreptitiously from behind.
Today Emily had styled her hair into a sleek swept-back style, held firmly in place with a dramatic gold clasp. She wore wide black culottes and a fitted black jacket with shiny brass buttons over a neat whi
te blouse. She always seemed to be able to make sartorial elegance look effortless.
Holly brushed the slight creases out of her own cheap navy skirt and glanced into the small mirror on the wall while she straightened the collar on her tired cream-coloured blouse.
She’d made a bit of an effort with her own hair and make-up before leaving the house this morning.
Her hair was desperate for a cut, so she’d tucked it back behind her ear on one side and fastened it there with a pretty diamanté hairgrip. Her roots were starting to show through from her last cheap and cheerful home colour session, but a professional retouch was going to have to wait until her first payday.
She barely owned any make-up but had dusted on a little of Cora’s blusher, which she’d found in the bathroom cupboard, and some old mascara that frankly had smelled a bit off but still managed to accentuate her dark eyes. Unfortunately she’d no concealer to help with the shadows under her eyes.
Finally she’d applied a lick of her own raspberry-coloured lip gloss, though amateur that she was, she realised she’d forgotten to bring it with her for a reapplication at lunchtime.
Sadly, next to Emily’s skilfully made-up face, Holly looked like she’d just fallen out of bed without making any effort. She might as well not have bothered in the first place.
Behind her, Emily cleared her throat.
‘Sorry!’ Holly stepped aside. ‘I didn’t realise you were waiting for the mirror.’
‘No. Seems you don’t realise a lot of things, doesn’t it, Holly? Like not realising you’d dropped me in it with Mr Kellington.’
Holly opened her mouth and closed it again. Martyn raised an eyebrow as he and the other staff filed silently out of the office, leaving the two women alone.
‘Look, Emily, I’m sorry if—’
‘Save it, why don’t you?’ Emily smoothed the sides of her already immaculate hair with flat palms and turned around to face her. ‘You knew I’d dealt with those customers first. You knew the sale belonged to me.’
‘But you weren’t interested in them,’ Holly protested. ‘You tried to send them to another shop!’
Emily took a step towards her and glared down from her towering heels. She jutted her chin out, pressing her face closer to Holly’s to complete the intimidation.
‘If I hear you say that once more, I swear I’ll rip your tongue out.’
Holly gasped, recoiling from her colleague’s vitriolic words and the unpleasant strong smell of coffee on Emily’s breath.
‘You can’t threaten me like that.’
‘I can say exactly what I like, because this time, you have no witnesses.’ Emily smiled sweetly. ‘I got rid of the last silly cow who came here thinking she could snap at my heels, and I’ll have no problem getting rid of you too. Just give me time.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
David
Holly seems so different to anyone else I know… perhaps have ever known.
She is bright, articulate and friendly but not at all overbearing.
Best of all, she speaks to me as if I’m her equal. She’s patient when I’m trying to make myself understood.
I’ve finally realised this is what it must feel like to be a regular person who fits in with the people around you without any effort or awkwardness.
I pack my empty snack box into my rucksack. Sometimes I wish I could stay here all day, particularly as I might have a chance of seeing Holly on the bus after the store closes.
I don’t want to go home any more, especially now he’s living with us.
‘Everything OK, Dave?’ Paul sticks his head in through the office door. With the swivel chair taking up most of the floor space, there isn’t room for two of us in here.
‘Yes. Everything’s fine, Paul,’ I say. ‘And I’d prefer it if you could call me David. Remember?’
‘Sorry, David. I forgot.’
Paul’s smile wobbles a bit, and then, of course, I feel bad. I’ve been correcting him about my name most days for the past ten months. But things don’t stick in Paul’s head the way they do with others.
‘I’ve left you a list of registration numbers and vehicle makes and models. If you could copy all those out neatly, that would be great,’ I say slowly so I know my words are registering.
Paul nods at me like a puppy, eager to please.
‘And I want you to keep a special lookout for that silver BMW. He’s a cheeky so-and-so and managed to get back to his car just as Bob from Clamp ’Em arrived the other day. Foiled our attempts again.’
I still feel irked when I think about the arrogance of that Beamer driver. The cocky swine actually gave us a thumbs-up and shouted gleefully, ‘Good morning, gentlemen!’ when he returned to his vehicle. He had a hint of a foreign accent, which of course set Bob off on one of his pro-Brexit rants.
Sadly, the driver jumped back into his car before Bob could slide from his cab.
In line with Mr Kellington’s expectations, I always think of jobs to keep Paul busy during the afternoon, even though nine times out of ten they are completely unnecessary.
‘I’ll ring Bob right away if that BMW asshole driver comes again.’ Paul scowls.
‘Good man.’ I pat him on the shoulder and leave the office.
He’s all right, is Paul. I should make an effort not to get so ratty with him. He’s Mr Kellington’s nephew and he works the afternoons to my mornings.
‘I’d like you to act as a bit of a mentor to young Paul, if you would, David,’ Mr Kellington explained on my first morning. ‘He’s a hard-working, very loyal lad but nobody will give him a chance in the world of work because he went to Aspley Brook.’
I know Aspley Brook well. It’s a special school, located on the outskirts of Nottingham.
Mr Kellington replaced the retiring full-time parking officer with myself and Paul, so I couldn’t go full-time now even if I wanted to. I can’t imagine Paul will ever leave.
Still, I feel honoured that Mr Kellington trusts me to keep an eye on his nephew. I take it very seriously, and anyway, I have my other role to fulfil at home during the afternoon. It might be an unpaid position, but that doesn’t make it any less important. Someone has to keep an eye on Mr Brown.
As I walk up to the bus station, the thoughts about Holly start to whirr around my mind again. I don’t know if I’ve got confused with the thing she said about the film.
Part of me thinks I must have the wrong end of the stick, but another bit of me says I’m not imagining it, that she as good as invited me to the cinema.
I know she didn’t mean it like a date. It was said in the spirit of friendship, a no big deal thing that a friend might suggest.
Friend might be a strong word. I check myself. Acquaintance, then. Colleague, even.
Yet friendship can lead to other things. I’m not saying it would. I’d never go down that road again unless I was absolutely certain I wasn’t imagining things.
That was the trouble last time. I thought I knew what she was getting at and it turned out she meant something else altogether. Like Mother said at the time, some people are very good at sending out mixed messages.
I’ve seen quite a bit of Holly this week. I’m quite clever about picking my moment.
For example, on Tuesday I spotted Mr Kellington popping out to the little tobacco shop down the road. He never tells anyone he’s going, but of course he has to come past my office. Once he’d left the premises, I went into the store.
And yesterday, when I knew he planned to spend the morning in the warehouse, talking to the staff there, I went upstairs pretending to look for him.
Nobody ever gives me a second glance in the store unless I bump into them or suchlike. It feels as I’m wearing an invisibility cloak at times.
The upside of being ignored is that it’s perfectly easy to linger on the floor above, looking down onto the showroom, and watch her for a short time.
And that’s what I did, both times.
She goes quietly about her business. She�
��s not in the least bit pushy with the customers. And when she stopped to say hello at my office this morning first thing, she was so respectful and unassuming. Completely unaware of her own loveliness.
She doesn’t need lashings of make-up on her smooth olive complexion, and those kind dark eyes shine all on their own without needing to be lathered in garish eyeshadow.
A natural beauty, that’s what she is.
Apart from Mr Kellington and occasionally Josh – usually when he wants his car washing – nobody here ever thinks to pass the time of day with me. Especially that attention-seeking tart that Holly works with, who gives me nothing but trouble.
Emily Beech goads me by purposely parking badly and then speaks to me like I’m nothing, just something nasty on the bottom of her shoe. It’s obvious she thinks herself above me. She’s what Mother might describe as being full to the brim of herself.
After all, I’m merely the parking officer, while she’s the hotshot top sales person. If you ask me, she’s well overdue for someone to take her down a peg or two.
There have been times I’ve sat in my office imagining just how I’d do it if I got the chance, but I can’t afford to dwell on that stuff for very long, I know that.
Still, I often feel like giving her a few home truths.
Where would she be if her well-heeled customers couldn’t park up in their gleaming Jaguars, Mercedes and BMWs? They’d go elsewhere for their fancy furniture.
Nobody here seems to realise it, but without me policing the outdoor facilities in all weathers, they wouldn’t even have a business.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
David
I turn the corner into the crescent and spot Brian’s battered old van outside the house.
A fog gathers around my head.
I’ve tried to get his routine mapped out, but it soon became apparent that he doesn’t really have one. He’s out at the pub an awful lot, but only when the mood takes him; he doesn’t go on certain days or anything like that.
