“I’m going to tidy the blue room.”
The blue room was yet another little piece of perfection in the store. It was stacked with blue bound novels. Sophie’s idea of a private joke because of the amount of times she had been asked for a book, the only clue given was that it had a blue cover. The blue room had an old locked armoire in the corner filled with the manuscripts of writers who’d left them with Sophie as a gift when their books were published. An antique roll-top desk stood proudly in front of the window. “OK,” I said distractedly.
The blonde man intrigued me. I hadn’t seen many people with such expressive features before, but instead of happiness, he face was lined with pain. I wanted to know why. He was one of many that regularly visited the store. People often came to sketch, or read, they traipsed in as if they were at a friend’s home. He was different though, it was as though he was searching for someone when his eyes scanned the counter, and always came up missing.
***
TJ strolled over, his boyish grin in place. “Hectic day. You want me to lock up?”
I yawned, which produced a chain reaction – TJ joined in, and so did Beatrice who’d wandered over, leaned her elbows on the counter and cradled her face in her hands.
“Would you mind?” I asked TJ, grateful he’d even offered. My legs were jelly-like from standing so long, and my lower back twanged each time I bent to restack shelves.
“I know men aren’t supposed to say things like this, but you don’t look so great, Sarah. Maybe an early night’s in order?” He patted my shoulder in a big brother kind of way.
I groaned and covered my face. Even at dawn when I first awoke I had shadows under my eyes, and my complexion resembled Casper the ghost. Too many late nights with only the glare of the computer screen for company. “I’m shattered,” I said, managing a small laugh. “I could sleep standing up. Though I think I may be developing some buff arms.” All that book heaving and carting of boxes was doing wonders for my tiny frame.
“I promise by week four things improve. It’s all about snatching those break times, and getting some distance between you and the shop.”
“Week four, you say?” I held onto that, hoping he was right and that somehow after a month here, I’d learn to cope better.
Beatrice chewed a nail, surveying me. “Don’t forget Sophie’ll expect the end of month reports soon.”
“Urgh, the reports. I’d forgotten.”
Beatrice smirked. “All part of the management fun.” Was I imagining it or did she gloat a little when she said that?
“Great,” I couldn’t even pretend to be chirpy. “I’ll take the till, TJ, you can start a new cash drawer.” Time to count the takings, and add everything into Sophie’s difficult computer program.
Hours later, nursing another coffee, I squinted hard at the screen. Had I made a mistake somewhere? Sighing, I rechecked the figures again. And once more, flicked through the Euros, securing them into piles with rubber bands.
Please no!
I had tripled checked, and the same figure popped up every time.
Money was missing. And not small change, either. I’d have to tell Sophie.
My stomach clenched at the thought. She’d think I was completely incapable of running her shop. Worry gnawed at me, and like the coward I was, I put off calling her until the next day.
Glumly, I gathered everything up, stowing the money in the safe, and headed to bed. No shower, no dinner, just an overwhelming need to pull the quilt cover over my head and sleep. Fatigue hit me like a brick, and I fell into a fitful slumber, jarring awake when anxiety dreams tumbled into my subconscious.
***
Mid-afternoon, I finally corralled Beatrice to man the front counter, so I could do the banking. Soon, Sophie would be starting her day in Ashford, and I’d have to call about the missing money. A quick breather would steel me for the dreaded admission that things weren’t running
The blue room was yet another little piece of perfection in the store. It was stacked with blue bound novels. Sophie’s idea of a private joke because of the amount of times she had been asked for a book, the only clue given was that it had a blue cover. The blue room had an old locked armoire in the corner filled with the manuscripts of writers who’d left them with Sophie as a gift when their books were published. An antique roll-top desk stood proudly in front of the window. “OK,” I said distractedly.
The blonde man intrigued me. I hadn’t seen many people with such expressive features before, but instead of happiness, he face was lined with pain. I wanted to know why. He was one of many that regularly visited the store. People often came to sketch, or read, they traipsed in as if they were at a friend’s home. He was different though, it was as though he was searching for someone when his eyes scanned the counter, and always came up missing.
***
TJ strolled over, his boyish grin in place. “Hectic day. You want me to lock up?”
I yawned, which produced a chain reaction – TJ joined in, and so did Beatrice who’d wandered over, leaned her elbows on the counter and cradled her face in her hands.
“Would you mind?” I asked TJ, grateful he’d even offered. My legs were jelly-like from standing so long, and my lower back twanged each time I bent to restack shelves.
“I know men aren’t supposed to say things like this, but you don’t look so great, Sarah. Maybe an early night’s in order?” He patted my shoulder in a big brother kind of way.
I groaned and covered my face. Even at dawn when I first awoke I had shadows under my eyes, and my complexion resembled Casper the ghost. Too many late nights with only the glare of the computer screen for company. “I’m shattered,” I said, managing a small laugh. “I could sleep standing up. Though I think I may be developing some buff arms.” All that book heaving and carting of boxes was doing wonders for my tiny frame.
“I promise by week four things improve. It’s all about snatching those break times, and getting some distance between you and the shop.”
“Week four, you say?” I held onto that, hoping he was right and that somehow after a month here, I’d learn to cope better.
Beatrice chewed a nail, surveying me. “Don’t forget Sophie’ll expect the end of month reports soon.”
“Urgh, the reports. I’d forgotten.”
Beatrice smirked. “All part of the management fun.” Was I imagining it or did she gloat a little when she said that?
“Great,” I couldn’t even pretend to be chirpy. “I’ll take the till, TJ, you can start a new cash drawer.” Time to count the takings, and add everything into Sophie’s difficult computer program.
Hours later, nursing another coffee, I squinted hard at the screen. Had I made a mistake somewhere? Sighing, I rechecked the figures again. And once more, flicked through the Euros, securing them into piles with rubber bands.
Please no!
I had tripled checked, and the same figure popped up every time.
Money was missing. And not small change, either. I’d have to tell Sophie.
My stomach clenched at the thought. She’d think I was completely incapable of running her shop. Worry gnawed at me, and like the coward I was, I put off calling her until the next day.
Glumly, I gathered everything up, stowing the money in the safe, and headed to bed. No shower, no dinner, just an overwhelming need to pull the quilt cover over my head and sleep. Fatigue hit me like a brick, and I fell into a fitful slumber, jarring awake when anxiety dreams tumbled into my subconscious.
***
Mid-afternoon, I finally corralled Beatrice to man the front counter, so I could do the banking. Soon, Sophie would be starting her day in Ashford, and I’d have to call about the missing money. A quick breather would steel me for the dreaded admission that things weren’t running
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