Sapphire

by Rebecca Hammett

  Chapter 7

  I made my way to the town centre, knowing there would be a market as it was a Sunday. I was right, and sauntered wearily along the street, picking a big bottle of orange juice, an apple and a Double Decker bar from a little stall. I munched contentedly as I walked on, carefully eying all the rooms on sale for that night. I came to the Swan Hotel, right at the end of the high street, with a single room with a deluxe bathroom and breakfast for £32.99. I stepped inside, asking for the room. I paid out the money, and they gave me my key. I sipped my juice, climbing the stairs up to my room. I unlocked the door, finding it clean and tidy, with a sparkling bathroom and shiny kettle. I put the kettle on immediately, humming as I listened to it whistle melodiously away in the corner, on top of the tidy desk. I unpacked my belongings quickly, leaving my six outfits in the big oak wardrobe that loomed above me.

  Sitting down comfortably, I made my tea and added an extra sugar. I sipped, reading my other favourite book, Despite the Death, over again. The bathroom was inviting, so I ran a deep warm bath and hopped in, adding the mini cake of soap that had been left for me on the windowsill. There was a big bottle of fruity shampoo and conditioner, so I rubbed it onto my long hair. I washed for a bit longer, then rinsed my hair in the shower, relaxing in the heat of the rushing water.

  I climbed out onto the blue bath mat, wrapping a towel around myself for decency.

  I padded on the soft carpet in my bare feet, standing in front of my wardrobe. I picked my blue silk top, and wore my velvet gym leggings, easing my white tights on underneath my leggings to look like socks. I wore my sparkly trainers, but had to stuff the toes with paper because my feet were a size too small.

  As I ran down the stairs again, clutching my heavy purse, I brushed out my tangled damp hair and fluffed it about my shoulders happily. The receptionist grinned as I walked jauntily past and I smiled back happily. As soon as I was outside, the sharp wind brought a glow to my pale cheeks and a sparkle to my fearful eyes, outlined with a thin stick of deep blue eyeliner and a tiny smear of pale blue eye shadow; my secret stock. I headed to a second-hand shoe shop, looking for boots and perhaps sandals or high heels. I mused over a pair of sequin-covered heels with thin straps and brown boots with a bouncy sole and small slim heels.

  “What you looking for, young lady? Swish pumps? Tall boots? Graceful slippers?” The stallholder asked, placing three pairs of shoes next to me. I looked at the boots longingly, and timidly asked the price.

  “Only £3, darling. Perhaps buy these and some fancy heels for my £5 deal?” the tall man recommended.

  I chose the black boots with bouncy soles and pink-heeled sandals with pink glitter and purple beads. I paid and changed into the boots, making my outfit match. I was wearing a chunky black necklace studded with pale blue topazes and purple amethysts courtesy of a cheap jewellery deal on in River Island.

  My purse was lighter now, so I traipsed around, looking for a place to work. I spied a wanted sign on a lamppost, but it was a new trapeze artist for a circus. I shuddered grimly and carried on walking briskly.

  As I stopped to look in Claire’s, my eye caught a poster on the window of Superdrug opposite. A wanted poster, with a picture of lots of nail polish. I skipped towards it in anticipation. It said:

  Wanted!

  A young woman with nail-painting skills and lots of customer awareness. Please apply at Pink’s Nail Salon, Newton Road.

  Pay is £55 per week for 4 hours (10:30 am – 2:30am) each day, or £18 per full day (8:30 – 2:30), but all tips given are allowed to be kept by whoever earned them. Please apply by 16th April.

  My heart thudded. I would apply now! Luckily, it was only 21st March. I started walking up Newton Road, keeping a watchful eye out for the nail salon. A big pink house was converted into a salon, with pink walls, doors, curtains and windowsills. I rang the doorbell (also pink!) and a slim, blonde-haired lady opened it and beckoned me inside.

  “Could I possibly try out for the job here? I was wondered if it would be too late now?” I asked, consulting my purple watch. Two thirty.

  “Well, this is closing time, but yes you can. We are having a stall at the market fair tonight!” She exclaimed happily. “You can try out this afternoon, on Amy, our model here.”

  I was led into a pink room, with a table full of custard creams and pink wafers and chocolate digestives. I looked on, interested. A tall slim girl who I thought was Amy was posing, her straight white teeth glinting when the camera flashed. She was very pretty, with dark brown hair flowing naturally to her slim waist, and pale skin with pink cheeks and lovely dark blue eyes outlined with thick black mascara. She smiled, suddenly tired with posing.

  “Hi! Are you trying out this afternoon? I’m Amy, by the way.” She grinned at me.

  “Hi, Amy, I’m Sapphire Burne. Yes, I’m going to try out for your job today, please,” I replied politely.

  “Awesome! Hope you do well, Sapphire,” Amy said, getting back to her feet. She pulled a small brown table nearer, so I could work on her nails.

  I looked in wonder at the array of colours – hot pink, sapphire blue, emerald green, sky blue, romantic scarlet, lily white, pale lilac, soft pink, canary yellow, neon green, tiger orange, lime green, deep purple, shades of silver, clean white, royal gold, pale peach, apricot and pearly white. All those colours were repeated, but with glitter, or glue and a range of various shapes. They looked amazing.

  “Would you like to try me out?” she suggested. “How about a total manicure before? You do that, can’t you?” she nodded, willing me to do the same.

  “Kind of … I can’t do very technical nail stuff,” I answered, worried that they would turn me down for the job due to my lack of technical skills.

  “Oh, you are funny! We don’t want you to do stupid fancy tricks! A neat nail buff, dealing with the cuticles and then the actual nail painting will do great!” Amy put her hand to her mouth, still laughing. “You are funny!”

  “Great,” I exclaimed, sitting down at the other side of the glass table. My hand hovering over all the different-sized glass pots of nail polish, I asked, “Which do you want? There’s plenty here!”

  “You choose. I want a nice bright set of nails, all different, but quite happy, cheerful colours. Can you do that, Sapphire?”

  I smiled in reply, pleased, because that’s what I liked best. Pushing down on the metal instrument carefully, I slid it under the excess skin that was gathering on her cuticles. I pushed back her skin, which looked much prettier and tidier already. I repeated it again and again, so each of her nails was pushed back to their full extent.

  “Good, good,” The lady who came and answered the door said to me. “Well done.”

  After I’d selected the ten colours, I buffed and cleaned her nails, putting on a clear layer first then filing her nails. She sighed in delight, holding her hands very still for my slightly shaking hand. Concentrating hard, I painted one nail bright blue, one sparkly emerald, one raspberry pink, one dazzling orange, one glittery red, one shiny indigo, one shimmering silver with odd shapes, one sea aquamarine, one royal gold and long glitter shapes, and the last very dark blue.

  “Gorgeous,” breathed Amy, blowing gently on them and waving them in the air to dry them.

  “Very impressive! That is the kind of thing the crowd will ask for tonight.” Eve (the lady who answered the door) inspected Amy’s nails, noticing that I hadn’t blotched any at all or smudged some on to her skin. “We will employ you, Sapphire.”

  “Thank you – I will be happy to work here!” I replied, blushing happily.

  “Well, Sapphire, if you would help us at the fair tonight, we will give you half a day’s wages – only £9, but I dare say you might get a token starting fee too. Younger girls are looked on very kindly, as they are rare to get and have steadier hands for the intricate nail designs we do. Go and allocate yourself a locker, Sapphire, and then come back here so we can check how neatly and quickly you can remove nail polish, and we’ll also check
your knowledge, just in case.” Eve smiled.

  “Right. Where are the lockers? Who should I ask?” I fussed.

  “I’ll come. Don’t worry, Sapphire.” After five minutes to let our nails dry, Amy took my arm and led me past a short corridor with several doors leading to other rooms. “Eve, can you look out a hand spa please – we’ll teach little Sapphire how to give a proper manicure,” Amy called from along the corridor. Eve didn’t look too pleased being told what to do by Amy, but she was clearly the boss and did what she was told.

  “Come in,” shouted a lady in a rough, hoarse voice. “If it’s you, Amy, go away, I’ve ‘ad enough of your stupid bossy ways.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake! Mill, unlock that door!” called Amy, getting annoyed. “Now!” she added loudly, bashing at the door fiercely with her elbow.

  “All right, all right, you stroppy little teenager! Come in, fine, but don’t come bothering me again!” She unlocked the door, staring at me.

  “Huh! Who on earth are you, a circus wonder?” She raised her black eyebrows and cackled with laughter like a witch. I swallowed, knowing she’d hit the nail on the head.

  “Mill! Sapphire used to work for a jewellery maker, not in a flipping circus!” Angrily, Amy walked in and looked at me. “Which one do you want, Sapphire?” she asked, hand on hip. (I’d told a few white lies in the interview.)

  “The one by the window.” I chose a purple one with a red handle. Amy gave me a violet key, putting it on a long, slim chain.

  “Wear it around your neck,” she added.

  I practised putting Amy’s slim white hand into the manicure ‘pool’ while changing the temperature quickly.

  “Nice,” Amy purred, relaxing for a second. “Oww!” she cried a second later, opening her eyes and holding her hand in pain.

  “What did I do? Sorry, Amy, honestly, I didn’t mean it!” Apologising, I ran round and got a cold towel.

  “Thanks,” Amy answered coldly, turning away from me. “Sorry,” she added a moment later. “I didn’t mean it like that, Sapphire!”

  After I’d nursed Amy’s red-hot hand, she gingerly put in back in the spa. I didn’t like to hurt her, and tried everything else I had to do with careful patience.

  “Great, well done,” Amy clapped me on the back. “Go home and make yourself look pink. Here.” She handed me a box with ‘VALUABLE’ on the side in large letters. “Take it home, go on. And make sure you meet us here at half five sharp.” She showed me to the door. “Keep the box, and the contents,” she added. “Bye!”

  “Goodbye, Amy!” I called, waving at her.

  As I reached the door of my room, I reached in my pocket and pulled out the key. It slotted in neatly, and I walked through the doorway, slamming the door shut with my outstretched foot.

  Reaching inside the old dusty cardboard box, I felt a spidery, wispy thing and pulled it out, puzzled. A long, pretty chain of pink hearts came out, with a silver glitter lining. A minute later, I had discovered a trio of bracelets, each pink with tiny gold embossed hearts entwined with the marble pattern. I fingered each locket lovingly, slipping one on each wrist and the bigger on my ankle.

  I fumbled in the box, ready to throw it away, but suddenly found a little pink box covered with rose quartz, all cut into shiny hearts. Opening the stiff silver clasp, I saw four tiny rings – one with gold edged with roses around the ring, making it sparkle like a royal crown. Another, my favourite, was plain silver with three diamonds, all outlined in pink glitter. The third and fourth were very pretty too, with silver lining, one with three emeralds, and one with pink swirly marbles, and thin pink paint, making them look sparkly and neat. I put them on, admiring them from every angle. I checked the time. It was only four o clock. I sat in the comfortable bed, lolling about and reading my battered paperback copy of Lost for Love, another of my all-time favourite books.

  I got out of bed, stretching lazily and peeking at the time. A quarter to five. Time to get ready! After combing my hair, I changed out of my black leggings into my flouncy pink dress from the circus, with purple frills at the sleeves and hem. I styled my hair into a loose plait, hanging over my shoulder. I wore my two bracelets, necklace and anklet, putting dark pink lip gloss on that I’d found in an old magazine, still wrapped up. I placed my pink amethyst collar on my neck, spraying some rose-scented perfume on too. The finishing touch to my outfit was my plain pastel bolero, hanging loosely over my tight, slim-fitted dress. I picked up my bag to go, remembering both keys.

  I slipped on my four rings, wearing two on each hand, and dabbing a little blusher on my pale face. My eyelashes were sooty black. I put on my lovely glittery heels, feeling very grown up.

  Grandly, I swished down the stairs and out of the hall, three customers staring at me and whistling softly. I giggled, making them raise their eyebrows.

  I arrived at the salon at twenty-five past five. Amy welcomed me warmly, asking me to go inside and bring out the hundreds of nail polishes, stickers and overcoats in the big bag she gave me.

  “Go!” She ushered me, flapping around and panicking.

  Eve was flustered, but grinned at me when I passed her. She was even pinker than me, wearing a pixie-like dress with gems on the collar, and a pair of gauzy wings like silver lining. She looked very young, with her golden hair brushed out in loose bunches, flicked over her shoulders. Her cat-like green eyes now sparkled like emeralds in her slim, pale face, making her look like a dainty pixie.

  Soon after six o clock, we were driven in a pink minibus to the fair at Clement Road, the other Market Street in Portlethen, in Aberdeen. I was amazed at how many people there were already, selling shiny hardbacks, fruit, beautiful jewellery, with shining diamonds and emeralds, gemstones and ornate silver chains, lovely wooden carvings, like birds and animals, trapped forever in this one strained pose.

  We set up on the right-hand corner, setting out all the neon signs and colours in a ring, with reds and oranges and yellows at the top, ranging from maroon to amber to canary to scarlet, and then green, blue, indigo and violet and the other side, glinting in the mystical moonlight. Our stall was by far the most popular, excited girls crowding around and asking their mums for a little money to have their nails done. One girl, about ten, was utterly gorgeous and very shy, though I did my best to get her chatting.

  “Hi! Do you want your nails done?” I questioned eagerly.

  “Yes please,” she replied, ducking her head and making her dark brown hair fall into her eyes and over her face.

  “What colour would you like? How about emerald green? Or dark blue? Or soft lavender?”

  “Could I have deep purple, with some blue gems and the silver pen?” She looked at them, then stared at me longingly.

  “Sure you can. Here,” I beckoned her over, sitting her down on a chair. Resting her white hand on the table, I unscrewed the lid of the purple nail polish carefully.

  I concentrated for a moment, barely blinking as I wanted to keep my great new job. She smiled, watching me paint her tiny nails intently.

  “There!” I sat back on my hard chair and admired my handiwork. Her nails were very neat, with no polish on her skin at all. She was very pleased, and kept both hands on the table. A selection of coins were lying on the table next to her.

  “Can I take this?” I asked, knowing it was the money for her nails being done.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  When her nails were totally dry, I reached for the silver nail pen and paused automatically. “What do you want drawn?”

  “Swirls, please – big ones with curly ends,” she answered quickly.

  I drew them on, neatly curving the ends. She sucked her breath in happily as I finished the last nail. As a finishing touch, I stuck two gems on each finger and three on the thumb, making her bright nails look amazing.

  “Thank you!” she squealed, and ran off to show her mum.

  I saw a pretty young lady coming towards me, jingling coins in her pale hands.

  “You just mad
e my daughter very happy. She isn’t usually, and you’ve perked her up no end,” she said straightforwardly.

  “Well … I just take a lot of pleasure in doing people’s nails,” I stammered, feeling silly.

  “Here. Take this as a tip. Tell your employer this is for you.” She walked off briskly.

  I was very pleased, and smiled to myself. I’ve found myself a lovely new job, met fabulous friends and found a talent for thinking up exotic new nail designs. I ran to tell Amy I’d got a tip already. She was pleased, and pulled my hair gently, congratulating me.

  I soon found myself rather busy, with three young girls queuing up. I took the first’s money, and sat her down. She was really cute, probably only four.

  “Hello, darling! What’s your name then?” I inquired nosily.

  “Sophie,” said the girl, smiling.

  “What would you like done to your nails, love?” Sophie’s mum queried.

  “Pink polish with red glitter!” exclaimed Sophie decidedly.

  “Right,” I started placing different pinks in front of her on the table. “Which one?”

  “That one, please,” begged Sophie, pointing at a pale, peachy pink.

  I painted her nails equally delicately, although I was disappointed when she moved suddenly and I smudged the polish on her finger. It was mostly her fault, but she did sigh loudly when I went to wipe it off. But she was very pleased, and loved her pretty nails when I’d finished.

  “Thank you, darling. You did great, sweetheart,” Sophie’s mum drawled lazily, dropping a single coin on the messy table.

  “Thank you,” I said obediently, tapping it and putting it into my jangling pocket.

  “Well done, Sapphire,” Eve came over, noticing the money in my cash box and the spare coins in my tips pouch.

  “Fab work, Sapphy!” Amy, who wasn’t working on anyone yet, called from a little way away. “Make sure to keep your tips.”

  I had the two other customers to do, who both wanted blue polish, with a clear layer and then purple gems on top. I did them both rather quickly, chatting a little less to them. Knowing we had a two-hour slot, I began calling to any passing girl who showed interest.

  “Come on, come on and get your nails done perfectly! Any colour you like, any overcoat, and nail stickers or gems, or even fancy patterns with nail pens!”

  I saw a few murmurs, a few smiles, and a few mumblings. One girl looked over longingly, but was pulled away from our stall by her mother.

  Soon after, a young woman came over, asking me how much it was to get her nails done.

  “Oh – only £3, for up to four different coats – a colour, an overcoat, which is usually coloured or sparkly, another colour on top, which we use with our nail pens – to get the thinnest, neatest line possible – and then a clear layer, to keep it all in place. Then you may have stickers or gems on top.” I showed her various clears, all expensive French buys. She was particularly impressed by the gem wheel, which had twenty slender slots. Each were brimming to the top, glittering like stars in the night sky.

  “Right,” she replied. “Can I have this hot pink polish, with the lilac thick pen and the pale baby-pink thin pen, please?”

  I finished her nails too, loving the mix of colours she had chosen. They looked gorgeous, especially with her long, sharp nails. She was very still, especially when I drew small polka dots on her pink nails.

  “Wow, thanks,” she commented, pleased, picking out four pound coins and laying them on the table with a clatter. I put the extra pound in the cash box, because she hadn’t specifically said it was a tip for me.

  By the end of the night, I’d painted the nails of a group of five young teenagers – Hannah, Rosie, Cara, Ava and Morgan. They all wanted fancy designs, so I gave them the nail guide. Cara chose a lime green base, with conifer green heart gems on top and aquamarine glitter. Morgan had a pretty shade of lilac, with a purple hearts overcoat and hot pink gems. Ava chose deep sparkly purple, with three tiny red hearts on each small nails, arranged in a triangle. Hannah finally decided on a dark blue, with a thick shiny glitter overcoat and star confetti. Rosie wanted soft pale blue, with darker stripes and a few nail stickers in the shapes of roses.

  I did all theirs, and then packed my things away, feeling quite tired. I counted the spare cash in my pocket, pleased I’d been so successful.

  “Great work, Sapphire! Will you come along tomorrow, for the whole day? You’ll get your wages, with the extra tips you get. This book will record it all, so we can be sure you aren’t stealing.” Amy passed me a red book with thick lines and a space to sign.

  “Cool! Half eight, was it?” I answered checking the time.

  “Yes,” called Amy, who’d already started to leave.

  I walked briskly home, although it was only half past seven. Feeling suddenly hungry, I stepped into a Pasta Palace nearby and ordered spicy Italian pasta. I waited for twenty minutes, reading the jobs section in the local newspapers. I saw an advert for Pasta Palace, and a picture of the room I was sitting in, with a waitress in white and purple and a pink hat. She was smiling, and a speech bubble was coming out of her:

  Wanted! Waitress.

  Must be reliable.

  Good wages paid.

  Hours: Saturdays and Sundays: 8:15pm – 11:15pm.

  Monday – Friday: 6:00pm – 10:00pm.

  Apply at Pasta Palace, Clement Street, Aberdeen.

  I pondered whether I should go for it or not. I needed extra money, but maybe I should sit back for a while, after the circus? I had enough for another night at the hotel, and I was getting new wages for my nail painting tonight.

  I decided I should. Maybe just for tonight, but I would give it a go!

  “Hello – I wonder if I could try out for your waitress job here?” I asked the other waitress hopefully. “I am really responsible, and reliable,” I pleaded.

  “Yes, you can, darling. Tomorrow night, meet me here by quarter to eight, please,” she said.

  “Look – I know it’s a bit late notice, but can I try out tonight?” I questioned.

  “Hmm, well, I suppose you could, as it’s only ten to eight. Eat up!” she ordered, but sat down with me. “We expect you to do as you’re told, not drop anything, have good customer awareness, have neat writing, always recommend dishes for children or babies, and to help me carry out the food they want.” She frowned suddenly. “I hope you realise how important this is, miss.”

  “Oh yes, I do. I’m Sapphire Burne. Nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand.

  “Lilia Ray.” We smiled at each other awkwardly.

  “Come on,” Lilia urged once I’d finished my lovely pasta.

  She led me into the staffroom, and then gave me a large white top and trousers, with an indigo pinafore and violet hat. I went into a changing cubicle, and ripped off my other clothes, stepping into my new uniform. I kept most of my jewellery on, but sensibly took off my rings.

  “Good. Tie your hair back, though.” Lilia gave me a comb and hairband, and pointed to a can of hairspray lying on the polished dresser.

  I put my hair back in a fishtail plait, splitting it up very evenly. Spraying it with hairspray, I closed my eyes and shut my mouth tightly.

  I flew down the stairs, racing at top speed. I wanted to show Lilia that I was a very good waitress, even if I had no idea how to do it.

  “OK. Go around, and see if anyone is there already. If so, ask if they are ready to order any drinks. For any children, you could offer children’s cocktails – no alcohol, just fruit juice, squash and fizzy water, orangeade or coke.” She passed me a small menu with tiny, swirly writing.

  “Right. I’ll ask them if they would like to order a meal a bit later,” I replied, anxiously.

  I walked around, liking the warm smell of fresh bread and hot meals cooking. It was very pleasant. Suddenly, I spotted a family of five sitting around the corner, with two children and one excited toddler.

  “Hello! Are you ready to order drinks yet? We have a n
ew children’s cocktail menu – no alcohol included, just fruit juice and fizzy drinks. Here,” I said, giving them the cocktail menu.

  “Yes, thank you. Can we have one white wine, two raspberry fizzers, one beer, please, and a cup of milk,” answered the mother gently, smiling at the clamouring baby and holding the littlest child’s hand.

  “Yes, that is fine. Thank you!” I rushed off, with the order written neatly in my new blue notebook. I went straight to Lilia, who was behind the till.

  “They wanted two raspberry fizzers, one beer, one white wine, and a milk.” I read out from my notes.

  “Well done,” replied Lilia happily, giving me a smile. “Here.” She balanced a long tray with one patterned glass of white wine, and the two red raspberry fizzers with floating fruit at the top. “Be careful!” she called after me.

  I was very careful, walking slowly and resting the tray on my arms and balancing it with my hands. As soon as I got to the table, I set it down on a nearby table and gave the raspberry fizzers to the two children, who sucked enthusiastically on their candy cane flavour straws. I put the white wine in front of the mum, who smiled at me gratefully.

  “Thank you, darling,” she said, beaming.

  “Thank you!” said the girl kindly, still sucking away.

  “Thank you,” groaned the boy, glaring at me after he’d been forced to say thank you.

  “Fank oo!” cried the toddler, even though he hadn’t got his milk yet.

  I returned, a little quicker than last time, bearing the tray with the pint of beer, which smelt horrible, and the toddler’s bottle of milk. He cawed in delight as soon as I gave it to him, and sucked greedily at the plastic spout. The beer was taken by the father, who gulped some down then muttered, “Thank you,” too.

  “Would you like to order food now?” I queried, taking out my notebook.

  “Please,” replied the father gruffly.

  “Yes, thank you. Can we have an adult’s toad-in-the-hole, a children’s portion of spaghetti Bolognese, a very small portion of spaghetti Bolognese, an adult lasagne and a children’s spicy Italian pasta, please?” the mother said, looking at the three children as she ordered for them.

  “Yes, that’s all fine, thank you,” I replied, hurrying off again.

  I remembered to go to check if there was anyone else in the restaurant, and saw two groups of people – seven women altogether, and a young couple sitting together.

  I went to the women and asked them if they were ready to order, and they said yes and I noted down what they wanted hurriedly. I then rushed to the other couple, and took their food and drink orders.

  “Here, Lilia – the table of five’s orders are on the back, and the drinks orders are on the front, along with the couple’s food,” I gasped, out of breath.

  “Good girl,” Lilia said approvingly. “Here.” She pressed a £2 coin into my palm.

  “What’s this?” I asked, surprised.

  “Your tip. You’re the number one now!” She patted my shoulder gently.

  I set off with the couple’s drinks, carefully carrying the tray. I set the tray down and gave them the drinks, then scuttled off for the women’s drinks. I asked them politely what they wanted to eat, and they gave me their orders.

  “Great,” the family of five said happily when I asked them about their meal. I saw the two kids were clearly thirsty, so I went to get a second raspberry juice for both of them and an extra half cup of milk for the toddler. They beamed delightedly and slurped, happy.

  “Well, thank you!” The mother gave me a beaming smile, slipping her hand into her white glossy purse. She brought out £5, and held it out to me.

  “Thank you!” I repeated, taking it and putting it in my pocket. When I’d finished my late-night job, I walked out of the door, fingering my generous tips. In one pocket, I had my tips from the nail painting, and in the other, I had my tips from waitressing.

  Counting the various coins and the £5, I added it to my money at home in the hotel.