The Visitors(50)

‘I’d like you to act as a bit of a mentor to young Paul, if you would, David,’ Mr Kellington explained on my first morning. ‘He’s a hard-working, very loyal lad but nobody will give him a chance in the world of work because he went to Aspley Brook.’

I know Aspley Brook well. It’s a special school, located on the outskirts of Nottingham.

Mr Kellington replaced the retiring full-time parking officer with myself and Paul, so I couldn’t go full-time now even if I wanted to. I can’t imagine Paul will ever leave.

Still, I feel honoured that Mr Kellington trusts me to keep an eye on his nephew. I take it very seriously, and anyway, I have my other role to fulfil at home during the afternoon. It might be an unpaid position, but that doesn’t make it any less important. Someone has to keep an eye on Mr Brown.

As I walk up to the bus station, the thoughts about Holly start to whirr around my mind again. I don’t know if I’ve got confused with the thing she said about the film.

Part of me thinks I must have the wrong end of the stick, but another bit of me says I’m not imagining it, that she as good as invited me to the cinema.

I know she didn’t mean it like a date. It was said in the spirit of friendship, a no big deal thing that a friend might suggest.

Friend might be a strong word. I check myself. Acquaintance, then. Colleague, even.

Yet friendship can lead to other things. I’m not saying it would. I’d never go down that road again unless I was absolutely certain I wasn’t imagining things.

That was the trouble last time. I thought I knew what she was getting at and it turned out she meant something else altogether. Like Mother said at the time, some people are very good at sending out mixed messages.

I’ve seen quite a bit of Holly this week. I’m quite clever about picking my moment.

For example, on Tuesday I spotted Mr Kellington popping out to the little tobacco shop down the road. He never tells anyone he’s going, but of course he has to come past my office. Once he’d left the premises, I went into the store.

And yesterday, when I knew he planned to spend the morning in the warehouse, talking to the staff there, I went upstairs pretending to look for him.

Nobody ever gives me a second glance in the store unless I bump into them or suchlike. It feels as I’m wearing an invisibility cloak at times.

The upside of being ignored is that it’s perfectly easy to linger on the floor above, looking down onto the showroom, and watch her for a short time.

And that’s what I did, both times.

She goes quietly about her business. She’s not in the least bit pushy with the customers. And when she stopped to say hello at my office this morning first thing, she was so respectful and unassuming. Completely unaware of her own loveliness.

She doesn’t need lashings of make-up on her smooth olive complexion, and those kind dark eyes shine all on their own without needing to be lathered in garish eyeshadow.

A natural beauty, that’s what she is.

Apart from Mr Kellington and occasionally Josh – usually when he wants his car washing – nobody here ever thinks to pass the time of day with me. Especially that attention-seeking tart that Holly works with, who gives me nothing but trouble.

Emily Beech goads me by purposely parking badly and then speaks to me like I’m nothing, just something nasty on the bottom of her shoe. It’s obvious she thinks herself above me. She’s what Mother might describe as being full to the brim of herself.

After all, I’m merely the parking officer, while she’s the hotshot top sales person. If you ask me, she’s well overdue for someone to take her down a peg or two.

There have been times I’ve sat in my office imagining just how I’d do it if I got the chance, but I can’t afford to dwell on that stuff for very long, I know that.

Still, I often feel like giving her a few home truths.

Where would she be if her well-heeled customers couldn’t park up in their gleaming Jaguars, Mercedes and BMWs? They’d go elsewhere for their fancy furniture.

Nobody here seems to realise it, but without me policing the outdoor facilities in all weathers, they wouldn’t even have a business.





Chapter Thirty-Nine





David





I turn the corner into the crescent and spot Brian’s battered old van outside the house.

A fog gathers around my head.

I’ve tried to get his routine mapped out, but it soon became apparent that he doesn’t really have one. He’s out at the pub an awful lot, but only when the mood takes him; he doesn’t go on certain days or anything like that.

I walk into the kitchen, where Mother is busy making sandwiches.

‘Hello, love.’ She smiles without looking at me. ‘Lunch will be ready in ten minutes. Had a good morning at work?’

‘Yes thanks.’ I carry on walking and head upstairs.

The living room door is closed, but I can hear the television is on in there. Football, yet again.

Before Brian moved in, Mother and I would often sit and have a cup of tea and a biscuit together while we watched the headlines on Sky news.

I’d tell her about anything eventful that had happened at work during the morning. She always seemed very interested.

She often asked questions about the processes I’d implemented at Kellington’s, which I enjoyed explaining fully to her, even impressing myself on occasion with my extensive knowledge of parking regulations.