Let Me In

by Alison Keane

  I smile when I see he’s messaged me back already.

  What about tonight? Wednesday feels like ages away.

  My heart skips a beat. Is he for real?

  That could work. I finish work at 6.

  My phone vibrates with another message from him.

  Can you get off any earlier? Great cafe I’d like to show you but they close at 4.

  I bite my lip. I really can’t. I should be putting in as many hours as I can on top of my shifts and not taking off early. Resentment surges through me. I’ve been doing that for months on end and I’m barely saving anything. It’s just one day.

  But it will be at least nine by the time I get to the office this morning because I still need to shower and get dressed.

  Can we go tomorrow instead? I can go in early then and still work a full day.

  I frown as I try to figure that out. The earliest we can start is eight because the call volume before then is a lot lighter and management prefers to let people with kids take the very early time slots. But I suppose I can stay later the other evenings this week. It’s not like I have anything else to do and it’ll be worth it.

  I’m buzzing with excitement as I make my way back to the bathroom. I step into the shower and turn on the water, humming to myself as I wait for it to heat up.

  I grab my phone off the bed before I’ve even dried myself off. My heart leaps when I see the WhatsApp icon at the top of the screen. I almost drop my phone in my haste to unlock it and see what he’s said about tomorrow.

  I can’t help but be disappointed when I realise the message isn’t from Nathan. It’s from Steph.

  Well? I know you’ve seen my message.

  My thumbs hover over the on-screen keyboard as I try to compose a reply, but I can’t. I’m too agitated. I want to know what the plan is with Nathan before I meet up with Steph.

  I open up the conversation with Nathan and frown when I see the two blue ticks beside my last message. He’s seen it. And the status bar at the top of the screen tells me he’s online now.

  So why hasn’t he replied?

  I stare at it for a few moments. Nothing happens. It’s only the empty feeling in my stomach that makes me put the phone down and go to the kitchen in search of something to eat.

  There’s not a lot to choose from. I haven’t been to the supermarket since the time I met Nathan. There’s half a box of Weetabix left so I settle for two pieces with the last of the milk and remind myself to go to the supermarket later. I really need to stop buying groceries from the corner shop where they’re far more expensive.

  There’s still no message from Nathan when I return to my bedroom to throw on a pair of trousers and a plain black shirt—my unofficial work uniform.

  I open our message chain and reread the messages. I really want to see him—now that I’ve had a taste of what it’s like to have a social life again, I can’t bear to spend the night on the couch watching telly when I could just stop being stubborn and go with his plan. I can make up the hours later in the week.

  Tonight works too, I can try and finish at 3.

  Except, I think as I catch sight of myself in the mirror, it doesn’t. My shirt is loose and unflattering; my trousers cheap and shiny. I quickly change into a dress and tights. I check my reflection.

  It’s better, but still not great. I check the time. It’s almost a quarter to. I need to leave. I grab my makeup bag from the bathroom on the way out. I’ll have to do what I can in the bathroom at work.

  My phone buzzes in my handbag just as I’m about to open the front door. It’s Nathan.

  Great, I’ll meet you outside at 3. You’ll love this place.

  I run my fingers through my hair, frazzled. I meant I could leave my desk at three, not meet him at three. I’ll have to leave even earlier now. I hurry out the door, trying to figure out what to say to my manager. I’ve done nothing wrong but I’m also trying to keep my head down and not draw attention to myself.

  My phone buzzes again and I groan when I see it’s from Steph asking if I want to meet her later.

  I stop and message her back to see if we can meet for a late lunch instead.

  Damn it: at this rate, I’ll be catching up on work for the next month.

  9

  Ellie

  “This isn’t a holiday camp, you know,” Jason says, staring through me.

  “I know that,” I say, alarmed at how strained my voice has gotten. I know I’m not being unreasonable, but tell that to my pounding heart and sweating palms. I hate that what happened last year and the isolation that came afterwards has turned me into such an awkward nervous wreck. I clear my throat. “It’s just that something’s come up. I’ll make up the hours later in the week.”

  He purses his lips. I look away, telling myself to stay calm and not allow myself to be rattled. I’ve done nothing wrong and I’m not being unreasonable. The crazy thing is Jason’s usually alright: he’s not overly aggressive or demanding. I begin to doubt myself: maybe I am taking the piss here?

  “That’s not the point, Ellie. You can’t pick and choose your hours. The expectation is you’ll be here ten to six, perhaps picking up some overtime as you need. That’s the agreement we have with you. And that doesn’t involve swanning in at nine and leaving at two.”

  “I’ll work through lunch,” I say. “It’s just this once. I wasn’t thinking when I agreed to the appointment time.” I smile sheepishly but he doesn’t smile back.

  For a moment I think about cancelling on Nathan, but I can’t. I will have to cancel on Steph, but she’ll understand.

  “Look,” I say hurriedly. “I’ll cancel the hygienist part of my appointment and rebook it. Then I can stay another hour.”

  “Can’t you move the whole appointment?” He glares at me and for a moment I think he’s seen through my lies and knows exactly what I’m doing.

  What am I doing? Why am I risking my job for this? I know deep down that I’m being a fool over a guy I hardly know, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’ve won the lotto meeting Nathan. He hasn’t admitted it, but he was obviously a little bit quiet and nerdy when he was here during the school holidays as a teenager. I’ve met the only guy in town who’s not connected into the tight gossip network that comes with living in a town this small.

  I shake my head and tell myself to get a grip. “No, I’ve been putting it off but I’ve got a toothache. Best to get it seen to. I don’t want to have to take more time off in the future.”

  Jason rolls his chair forward and plants his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands in front of him. “Is there something going on I need to know about?”

  I shake my head. “No. Why would there be?”

  “Your metrics have been off lately.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, forcing back the lump in my throat. It’s kind of true: between daydreaming about Nathan and searching for more details about my mother, I haven’t exactly been focused on work today. But that’s just one day! I want to tell him how unfair it is when I usually work my arse off, but I don’t. Lots of people may see my job as a crappy one, but for a long time it was one of the only things in my life and I’m actually more dedicated to it than I realise. “Maybe I’ve had off days or something.” I swallow, determined not to cry in front of him.

  “Just try not to let your work slide any further, alright? Because it reflects badly on me and I won’t have that.”

  He turns his attention back to his computer and I walk out of his office with my ears burning.

  I need this job, but am I really willing to sacrifice my only chance at happiness for bureaucracy?

  I look around what used to be a petrol station and try my best to look impressed. What I’m really thinking is I risked my job for this? Why the hell did Nathan insist on bringing me here? It’s a new cafe in a grubby old building. Yes, the sign on the door says it closes at 4, but I can’t see why we couldn’t have met later and gone to anywhere else in town.

  “What do you think?”


  My stomach flips when I turn to Nathan and see the expectant look on his face. He cares about my opinion. Any resentment I felt about being dragged here melts away. “It’s great,” I say.

  “Really?”

  I force a smile. “Really. It’s great. It’s so…”

  I guess the good thing about being so underwhelmed by a place is that thinking up a lie to describe how much I love it is pushing other more destructive thoughts out of my mind. Dad hasn’t been in touch since I left his house yesterday. I make a decision to throw myself into this thing with Nathan—as if I needed an excuse to do that. Moving away is so far in the future. I need something positive right now.

  “So…” a smile tugs at his lips.

  “So… hipster. With the…” I wave my hand around, desperately looking for something to compliment. It’s all old school tables and cans of beans repurposed as vases containing scrappy bunches of what look like weeds. Not my style at all. “The decor. Industrial. How did you find it?”

  “It’s on my way to work,” he says proudly. “I wanted to check it out.”

  I smile as brightly as I can as he hands me a grotty clipboard with a coffee-stained menu attached. Inside, doubts niggle at me. He’s gorgeous, funny, clever. But why the big deal about dragging me here? Why was it so important that I leave work early? I try to shut that voice up, but I can’t.

  I steal a glance at him as he studies his menu. Even as my heart flips, something else tells me I need to keep my guard up and not let him get too close too soon.

  “Another drink?” Nathan’s face blurs in and out of focus.

  I shake my head. “I can’t. I have work tomorrow.”

  “So?” He pokes out his tongue and I swear it’s the sexiest gesture I’ve ever seen. “It’s only ten o’clock.”

  I check the time on my phone, convinced he’s wrong. The digits blur. How much have I had to drink? I’ve lost count. It may only be ten o’clock, but we’ve been drinking since shortly after three. It turns out the cafe in the old petrol station serves amazing margaritas and homemade tacos. It’s a pity that we didn’t think to try those tacos before we moved to the pub because I’m starving now.

  So much for keeping my guard up.

  My stomach rumbles so hard it’s almost painful. “We should get something to eat,” I say, slurring my words so badly that even I notice it. I should really go home, but there’s no food there.

  “Just one more?” he says with a smile I find hard to resist.

  10

  John

  The landline on John Cartwright’s desk buzzed. He glanced up and saw Reception flashing on the display. Reception. What did they want? He didn’t have any meetings planned for today.

  He sighed. He had too much on. He always thought he’d be long retired by this stage of his life.

  Now everything had changed.

  “Hello Hannah,” he said with a sigh. “What is it?”

  “You have a visitor, sir.”

  “A visitor?” he checked the calendar on his desk. He much preferred it to using a virtual one—he liked being able to see his day at a glance every morning when he sat down at his desk. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  She exhaled loudly and John’s ears pricked. There was something in her voice. “Yes. There’s a man here to see you.”

  It didn’t take John long to figure out who his visitor was. This was a complication he didn’t need—especially not now. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

  He hung up and rubbed his face with clammy palms. What was Tony doing here? The bloody idiot. Twenty years in prison and he couldn’t find something more interesting to do with his time than follow John around and make life difficult for him? He never did have much of an imagination.

  John shook his head. He knew what to do. He’d been told what to do. He just didn’t have the heart to do it—not even to Tony.

  Tony leapt to his feet as soon as John walked through the double doors into the reception area. “I thought you’d have retired by now.”

  John forced a smile for the sake of appearances. “Tony,” he said, holding his hand out as he approached the man who’d been a scourge on his life for the last twenty years. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Tony took his hand and matched his firm grip, squeezing so hard that it was an effort for John not to break contact first.

  Anger and frustration bubbled up inside him. It was Tony’s fault that he was in this position. His life might have turned out very differently if it hadn’t been for Tony. His last bit of resistance to the plan fell away. There was only one way to get Tony off his back for good. He didn’t like it, but it was starting to look a lot more appealing. The man was a weasel; a blight. He deserved everything that was coming his way.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to walk with me if you want to talk,” he said breezily.

  “What?”

  “I have a client meeting,” John said. “I’m already late.” He strode off towards the lifts, resisting the temptation to look back and see if Tony was following.

  He desperately needed to get Tony into his car before this thing escalated even further out of his control. But would the man take the bait?

  There was a loud chime and the doors of the nearest lift slid open. John stepped inside without looking back. He turned around slowly and his heart leapt when he saw that Tony had followed him across reception and into the lift.

  “Don’t forget, John,” Tony said, as soon as the doors had closed. “I have something on you.”

  John grimaced. There were cameras in the lift and the bloody fool hadn’t even thought to check for them. “Cameras, you idiot,” he hissed.

  “Cameras are the least of your worries,” Tony said with a smirk.

  John turned to him. “Enough, alright? I know somewhere private we can talk. For God’s sake can you just wait until we get there?”

  Tony grinned and John tried not to do the same. He had Tony right where he wanted him.

  11

  Ellie

  Tuesday

  I wake up with a pounding headache. My mouth is so dry I can’t even swallow. I sit up too quickly to check the time and that’s enough to send waves of nausea shooting up my throat. I lie back and breathe shallowly for a few moments and it helps a bit. When I risk moving again, I’m relieved to see it’s only ten to seven.

  So much for a rejuvenated liver, I think before being plunged into a pit of shame. It’s partly to do with the hangover, I know, but not fully. I swore I’d never drink again after what happened last year and now look at me. When I try to play back the last few hours of last night, it’s fuzzy in parts and completely missing in others.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as the nausea returns. I can’t afford to lose control like this. I have a vague memory of kissing Nathan in a taxi outside and then fumbling for my keys, but knowing how I got home doesn’t set my mind at rest.

  I ease my way out of bed to fetch a glass of water. As I walk through to the kitchen, a strange memory floats back to me. Jason. Laughing.

  My stomach rolls with dread and then confusions takes over. If we met Jason, he wouldn’t have been laughing, would he? Not when I lied about going to the dentist. I pour a large glass of water from the tap and lean against the counter. The only explanation is that I came up with a good excuse and he believed it.

  I pick up my phone and start to type a message to Nathan, but then delete it. I don’t want him to know my memory of last night is patchy.

  I’m about to go back to bed when I remember I agreed to meet Steph for breakfast.

  Steph is waiting for me by the time I hurry into the cafe.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  She shrugs as I sit down. “Don’t be, I just got here. Things must be going well if you cancelled on me to meet him again before we’ve even had a chance to talk about your first date.”

  I start to apologise and then stop myself. I’m just going to have to wear the shame because I can’t tell her how important it is to me that
things develop with Nathan.

  Steph catches the attention of a passing waitress and orders a muesli bowl. I go for the full breakfast with the biggest coffee they have.

  Steph leans forward and wrinkles her nose. “How late did you stay out last night?”

  I wince. “How did you know?”

  “Partly the big greasy fry you just ordered.” She grins. “You also smell like a brewery.”

  “Shit,” I hiss. “Shit shit shit.”

  “What’s the matter? You’re not late for work, are you?”

  I shake my head. “No. It’s just that I said I had a dentist appointment. I don’t want to turn up there reeking of alcohol and making it really obvious. Though I did meet my boss in the pub last night.”

  “Well then,” she says, rummaging in her handbag and pulling out a pack of mints. “He’s not going to be in any position to judge you, is he?”

  “No,” I mutter.

  A waitress bustles over with our food and we stop talking for a while. It’s only now I have food that I realise how hungry I was.

  “So how was it?” Steph asked when we’ve finished.

  Now that I’ve started thinking about it, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. “It was great. He’s great. Funny and sweet and just a good guy.”

  She grins. “That’s brilliant. So you’ll see him again?”

  I nod enthusiastically. Of course I will. It feels like we have a lot in common and I really like him. A cloud comes over me then. Is it wise for me to talk about him in public like this? I glance around the busy cafe. There’s nobody here that I recognise so that makes me relax a little.