The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green by Laura Kemp Page A

coffee coming? I’m gasping.’
    â€˜Chef is sending some from the cafe. Along with some biscuits,’ she said, winking at Em as she busied away on the tablet she carried everywhere.
    What Mr Roberts lacked in warmth, Sly made up for in spades, letting her chosen ones know she held them in high regard. And it was Sly who’d told her at the Christmas do that the boss would be recommending Em for his post when the time came. There’d be a shortlist, obviously, that’s the way they had to do things, but she wasn’t to worry.
    â€˜So, who else is coming to the meeting then?’ Em asked, fishing for a heads-up.
    â€˜You’ll see,’ Sly said, welcoming Sally from the cafe who wheeled in a trolley of refreshments.
    Whoever it was, Em wasn’t worried – she knew this industry like the back of her hand. No one could come close to her.
    Apart from Simon Brown… who walked in at that very moment.
    A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered inside her as she saw his fresh face and boyish, twinkling eyes. Stop it, she told herself – there is nothing exciting or handsome about his looks. He is completely unremarkable to look at with his inquisitive chestnut brown eyes and short nondescript brown hair. But that made things worse! That meant he was perfect!
    What on earth was he doing here anyway?
    â€˜So glad you could make it, Simon!’ Mr Roberts said. ‘You’re a bit of a late entry to all of this – we’re going through interesting times.’
    Oh my word, Em realized, finally. She felt betrayed as it all clicked into place. He’s in the running for the job after I trained him up. I never took him for a snake, Em thought.
    She might be the best here in this branch and she might be more senior than Simon Brown but he was clearly a rising star. And she’d helped him on his way! The floor began to shake as the reality set in: he’s here to steal my job. The man who makes my heart soar is swooping in to ruin everything, even more than he already has.
    Smile, woman, she ordered herself, just as he noticed her.
    â€˜Em!’ he said, beaming. ‘Great to see you!’
    Her inner Richter Scale went off the graph in the earthquake of emotion she felt. Disgust at his duplicitousness, revulsion at his cheek and, most terrible of all, complete enchantment at being in his company. She could only nod back or she feared she’d crumble all over the carpet.
    Fortunately, just then Mr Roberts pulled a chair from under the table, indicating he was ready to start. Three more people, assorted deputies and heads, had entered the room but Em hadn’t even seen them arrive, she was too distracted by his presence and the fact he was the competition. She took a gulp of coffee and waited just a moment to see where Simon Brown was going to sit and then picked the chair furthest away from him. The words ‘I’m carrying your baby and you don’t even know it’ circled in her mind as she tried to fix her gaze on the manager.
    â€˜As you are all aware… retiring… awaiting confirmation of my leaving date… interview process will begin’ was all she could take in as nausea crept up on her. How cruel nature was to inflict nervous sickness on top of morning sickness! Ginger biscuits, that’s what she needed, her eyes scanning the plate to see if there were any. She reached out, grabbed two and began nibbling. But it was too late. Em could feel her palms going clammy as wooziness took hold. Now of all times, when she needed to be composed.
    Out of the corner of her eyes, the light was flickering. She had to get out, she was going to be sick. So she stood up, apologizing to Mr Roberts as she supported herself with her hands on the table, explaining she felt unwell. Em heard voices, ‘are you OK?’ and ‘she’s awfully pale’, then she felt her legs go. She collapsed on the floor and everything went