Blink(32)

I felt a kind of comradeship with her already. I’d worked out for myself that Bryony was the kind of boss who could be a bit pedantic.

I perched on the edge of the desk behind me.

‘So, I heard Dale say you’ve just moved to the area?’

I nodded.

‘With your family?’

‘With my daughter,’ I said. ‘My mum lives close by, too.’

That was all I was willing to say at the moment. I liked Jo but I wasn’t yet ready to open up and tell her all about the reality of how crap my life was.

‘How long have you worked here?’ I asked her, just for something to say.

‘Far too long.’ Jo grinned, sitting down and making a half-hearted attempt to tidy the strewn papers on her desk. ‘It’ll be six years this Christmas.’

‘What did you do before?’

‘Oh, you know, this and that.’ I got the distinct feeling she perhaps didn’t want to remember. That was fine by me; I knew exactly how it felt to want to keep your distance from the past. ‘It’s OK here, the hours and the pay aren’t too bad, I suppose. Above the minimum wage, anyway. It’s just that—’

The front door flew open then and Jo immediately clamped her mouth shut as Bryony appeared. She was dressed in an immaculate black suit she’d paired with a silver-grey silky blouse and towering red heels. Her expression was thunderous.

‘Hi, Bryony,’ Jo called brightly.

‘Who the hell does that old Punto belong to in the car park?’ Bryony demanded. ‘Some idiot has only gone and dumped their heap of crap in my space.’





28





Three Years Earlier





Toni





‘I’m really sorry, Bryony,’ I said breathlessly when I finally got back into the shop. ‘It won’t happen again.’

I’d had to park up on a side street and scuttle back to the office as fast as I could.

‘Let’s hope not,’ she said sourly, her words laden with unspoken threats of what might happen if it did.

I glanced over at Jo, who appeared to be suddenly absorbed in sorting out a pile of glossy leaflets. I’d been in the new job for all of fifteen minutes and had already managed to rub my line manager up the wrong way. The worst thing was that I had to admit it was all my own fault. Only when I’d reversed the Punto back out of the parking spot, carefully avoiding Bryony’s glistening white Audi TT, did I spot the ‘Reserved’ sign clearly displayed on the wall. I’d been in such a hurry to get into the office on time that I hadn’t noticed I’d poached my boss’s space.

The shop door opened and Bryony’s face lit up, the sour fury melting away and being rapidly replaced by a winning smile. ‘Mr and Mrs Parnham, how lovely to see you. Please, come through to my office.’

A heavily perfumed and coiffured Mrs Parnham swept by me and grasped Bryony’s outstretched hand, her diamond-studded Rolex glittering under the stark fluorescent lights.

Only when they were safely ensconced in Bryony’s office did Jo look up from her leaflet shuffling. She let out a long breath and pulled a guilty face. ‘Sorry about the misunderstanding. I never thought to check where you’d parked. It’s one of Her Majesty’s pet hates, people nicking her spot. One of her many pet hates, I should add.’

‘My fault.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know how I managed to miss the reserved sign.’

‘You can relax now, anyway, she’ll be in there ages.’ Jo grinned. ‘Bryony adores the Parnhams. Well, she adores their wealth, I should say. They move house every couple of years or so, always on the lookout for the next ostentatious property to show off to their jet-setting friends. But this time, they’re looking to spend their most yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bryony’s commission is more than our salaries put together.’

‘Ahh, I get it.’ I smiled, everything falling into place. No wonder Bryony’s face had lit up when they walked in – the promise of a hefty commission can have that effect on people. The Parnhams had got me off a hook, anyway, so good luck to them.

I turned back to Jo. ‘Can I help you with anything? I feel like a bit of a spare part.’

‘You could file these property details away, if you don’t mind. Thanks.’ Jo picked up an unwieldy pile of stapled brochures and pushed them across her desk. ‘They need to go in the folder in postcode order, hope that makes sense.’

I smiled and nodded. It made perfect sense. Filing brochures was one of the duties I’d done as an apprentice, too many years ago to think about. In the space of a few days, the last twenty years of my career had melted away and it felt like I was back to square one.

I collected the pile of papers and carried them over to Phoebe’s old desk.

The phone rang once or twice, and Jo answered, but there were no more customers. Jo and I worked in companionable silence for a while.

‘Is it usually this quiet?’ I asked eventually.

‘Varies.’ Jo shrugged. ‘It’s been busier since Phoebe left.’

I liked to be busy. I’d worked with people before who seemed to get a thrill out of doing as little as possible all day, or by making simple jobs last twice as long. I found time dragged that way; I’d rather have too much on than too little. Less time to brood and overthink things, which was always a bonus in my book.