The Visitors(45)

‘Oh! Absolutely,’ she’d beamed, pushing the previous night’s ordeal to the back of her mind. It sounded a bit of a strange job that he’d outlined, but who cared? ‘I can’t wait. Thanks so much, Brendan.’

‘No. Thank you,’ he’d said, and reached over to pat her knee before turning to Markus again. ‘Just a thought, mate, can you pop out to Myra and get Holly an application form? Ask her if there’s anything else she needs.’

‘Sure.’ Markus had stood up right away, seemingly pleased to avoid Holly’s dagger-like stare. ‘I can do that now.’

Holly had felt a stab of self-consciousness, wondering how long Markus would be gone and what she’d talk to Brendan about in the meantime, but she needn’t have worried.

‘So.’ He’d turned to look at her again. ‘While we have a spare five minutes, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?’





Chapter Thirty-Five





Holly





Holly had nodded and taken a deep breath. Her account would need to illustrate that she’d be an ideal employee. She didn’t want to inadvertently mention something that might overshadow her qualities.

‘Start right at the beginning,’ Brendan had said. ‘First of all, tell me about your parents.’

Holly had been a little taken aback. She’d not expected this kind of questioning at all. It was time to think on her feet.

Making sure to keep any traces of concern off her face, she’d begun to tell him about her parents. Only she’d described them as she’d have liked them to be, rather than the disaster that had been the real thing.

‘Dad was born down south, in Devon, and Mum was from Nottingham. They both loved the Midlands, I don’t think they would have ever moved if they’d still been here. When Dad came to work in the Midlands, he—’

‘Hang on. You said if they were still here; are they…’

She’d nodded. ‘They’re both dead now.’

It was only after she’d uttered the words and Brendan had raised an eyebrow that she realised it had sounded perhaps a little too blunt. Callous even. She’d known instantly she’d need to remedy it right away.

‘I’m sorry to just come out and say it like that,’ she’d said, looking at her hands. ‘I suppose it’s a defence mechanism I’ve developed over the years. Growing up, it was always the thing I dreaded. Where is your dad? I was young and it was just much easier to tell people straight, to take the emotion out of it.’

‘I understand completely,’ Brendan had said, nodding. ‘It must’ve been really hard for you.’

‘It was.’ She’d given him a weak smile. ‘But I’m fine talking about it now.’

‘And how – if you don’t mind me asking – did it happen that both your parents passed away, so untimely?’

She remembered it had crossed her mind at that point that this was a pretty deep conversation to be having with a guy she’d only just met, even if he was to be her new employer.

Certainly this kind of in-depth questioning – it felt like a sort of interview – wouldn’t happen in a regular job. There again, to be offered a position within a short time of meeting someone wasn’t that standard either. She guessed it worked both ways.

‘My dad was knocked down and killed as he crossed the road when I was only five years old, and my mum… well, she was a keen climber. She went out in adverse weather conditions in Derbyshire and slipped, falling to her death. That happened three years ago.’

‘My God, you poor thing,’ he’d murmured. ‘So, what happened to you when your mum passed away? Where did you go?’

‘My aunt and uncle took me in. I don’t know what I’d have done without them.’ She swiftly pushed aside thoughts of how she’d given the two of them a piece of her mind when she left the house.

Holly had paused at that moment, had wondered where the lies had come from. Her dad had been knocked over crossing the road, but she’d failed to add that he had been a certified schizophrenic who hadn’t taken his medication for over a week.

Coming up with a cause of death for her mother had been easy too. Holly had mentally rewound to the days when her mum had loved walking in Derbyshire. She’d often go alone, saying it cleared her head and helped her to feel better. That had been years ago, in the days before her drinking began.

As a child, Holly would sometimes worry if it started to rain or the wind whipped up while her mum was out walking. She used to fear she might be blown off the side of Mam Tor or something similar.

Put on the spot by Brendan, she had managed to concoct a touching story. Far better than admitting her father had been mentally ill and her mother a hopeless alcoholic. That wouldn’t have reflected very well at all on her own character, even though nobody had the luxury of choosing their parents.

They’d talked for a while longer, Holly managing to come up with some interesting filler about being taught to value education and feeling secure and loved at home with her aunt and uncle.

She managed to avoid telling Brendan how she’d twice been excluded from her old school for non-attendance. She could hardly say she’d been too tired to go to lessons after looking after her alcoholic mother, who’d been vomiting all night long.