The Visitors(49)

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.