Читать книгу Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year - Bella Osborne, Bella Osborne - Страница 14

Now Daisy had it firmly in her mind that she was staying in Ottercombe Bay, it no longer felt like a prison sentence; it was more like a challenge with a pot of gold at the end and she was already mapping out how she was going to spend her prize. If she could focus on the money and the fact that she was following Great Uncle Reg’s wishes she might just make it through but she needed to have a plan otherwise the next fifty weeks were really going to drag.

She was sitting one evening with a highlighter pen and the local paper. Having read the headline story about the crime wave of shed fires and vandalism to a tree, she was feeling Ottercombe Bay may be the safe haven she needed for a while. She needed to ignore Max Davey, he was an unfortunate irritation she would have to put up with, a bit like thrush – though less colourful and possibly more irritating.

She sat back and studied what she had highlighted. There were three jobs she had experience for – they weren’t mind blowing but they would be something to fill the hours and enable her to contribute to the housekeeping. Despite Aunt Coral’s kind offer, she wasn’t a charity case – she always paid her way.

‘I think I’m going to venture back to work tomorrow. The pharmacy is struggling without me,’ said Aunt Coral, lifting up her ankle and placing it carefully back down.

‘Hmm?’ said Daisy idly. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘What have you got there?’ asked Aunt Coral, putting on her reading glasses. Daisy handed her the paper and guided her through the highlighted adverts.

‘I’m looking at jobs. There’s one at the charity shop; not a volunteer role but minimum wage.’ She pulled a face. ‘Or a server at the Fish and Chip van on the seafront and this one …’ she tapped the page for emphasis, ‘… receptionist at Stabb and Lakey.’

‘Ooh the law firm?’

‘Yep, I really want that one and it’s good money.’

Aunt Coral read the advert carefully. ‘I’m pleased you’re staying.’ She reached out and squeezed Daisy’s hand.

‘I’ll apply for the charity shop one too, as a backup,’ she said.

The charity shop job had already gone by the time Daisy enquired and she didn’t fancy working in a chip van because she would always have a faint aroma of grease about her. Everything was riding on the receptionist’s job. Daisy liked a challenge and she knew she could do the job – she just had to convince them of it and, with the aid of her well-crafted CV, she had already cleared the first hurdle and secured an interview. Thanks to a small loan from Aunt Coral she looked the part with a new cream skirt, navy top and smart navy shoes. Her hair was neatly plaited against her head and her make-up was subtle.

She shooed Bug off the sofa and sat down to watch the clock. Bug gave her a disapproving look, farted and left the room. She waved a hand to clear the air. That creature is rotten inside and out, she thought. She fidgeted about on the sofa for a bit but she couldn’t settle. She decided instead of squirming for the next hour she might as well walk into town and get a coffee.

The walk was pleasant, the sea breeze calming her senses as the July sun gently caressed her skin with its warmth. She was definitely a warm weather person; she liked the heat far better than the cold, which was another reason why South America appealed to her. The thought of being able to travel but not have to constantly work was what would keep her going this year. She walked along daydreaming about the solitude of the Atacama Desert in Bolivia and the wonder of the Inca legacy at Machu Picchu and soon found herself in the centre of town not far from the Stabb and Lakey office.

It was quite busy in the cramped coffee shop as it was coming up to lunchtime. She ordered herself a double espresso, something she’d got a liking for in Italy. She took the overfilled cup, watching it closely because it was balanced precariously on a mismatched saucer. She turned just as a man barged past her to be served next.

‘Oi!’ barked Daisy. The coffee slopped over the sides of the cup and down the front of her cream skirt. ‘No!’

‘Sorry,’ came the curt reply making Daisy’s head shoot up to inspect her aggressor.

‘Oh, typical. I might have guessed it’d be you.’ Daisy scowled at Max, who looked nonplussed and carried on giving the lady at the counter his order.

Daisy flushed crimson. She was furious. Her interview was in less than thirty minutes. She didn’t have time to walk back and change and get back in time and if she did she was severely lacking in anything appropriate to wear. Most of her clothes were screwed up on her bedroom floor. She made a mental note to sort them out when she got in.

‘Would you like a cloth?’ asked the kindly woman behind the counter.

‘Yes, please. Thank you,’ said Daisy, leaning over and taking the cloth. She dabbed at her skirt but the strong dark liquid had already seeped into the soft material. She went to the ladies to see if she could improve things where she discovered it was actually possible to make things worse. She now had a very large wet patch in the middle of her skirt and the coffee stain was only slightly faded. She downed what was left of her espresso and headed out of the coffee shop.

‘Have a nice day,’ called out Max but she ignored him. The short stroll to the Stabb and Lakey offices had her sodden skirt sticking to her legs. As she approached she decided it may look better if she turned the skirt around. At least their first impression would be of someone smartly dressed, she may even be able to get away without them noticing.

She gave her details to the current receptionist who seemed a little bored. Daisy took a seat in the waiting area and as she sat on the coffee side of her skirt she felt the now cold wet patch adhere to her thighs and start to seep through her pants. It was more than a little distracting but she wouldn’t be put off, she really wanted this job. It was about time she had a decent job; she’d been bouncing from one rubbish zero hours contract to the next and a proper role in a good small firm would be ideal. It would be good for her CV too, which would hopefully mean better jobs when she did move on.

A tall, thin man meandered into the waiting room and appraised her. He proffered a hand. ‘Miss Wilkins?’

‘Wickens,’ corrected Daisy, standing up.

‘I’m Mr Lakey.’

‘How do you do, Mr Lakey?’ asked Daisy in her most professional receptionist voice.

‘Very well, er …’ His eyes had wandered to the front of her skirt and now hers did the same. The stain was on the back so what was he looking at? On the front of her skirt, which had once been the back, was a large patch of black fur making it look like she had some sort of pubic wig. Bloody Bug, she thought as she remembered sitting on the sofa in his favourite spot. She quickly twisted the skirt around her middle in an attempt to make the black hairy patch disappear but as soon as the wet patch came into sight she regretted it.

‘You see someone spilled some coffee just before I got here – not me I’m not clumsy or anything it was some idiot in the coffee shop. And the black hair is my aunt’s dog, he sits on the sofa and he sheds fur everywhere.’ Mr Lakey’s eyebrows were doing a tango as the two offending patches whizzed past numerous times whilst Daisy continued to twist the skirt around her waist. Daisy stopped the skirt at the halfway point so she now had the coffee stain to her left side and the black furry patch to her right. She looked up and smiled at Mr Lakey and eventually his eyes met hers. He blinked.

‘I like to make a good first impression,’ she quipped.

‘Shall … we continue?’ he asked with a definite hesitation.

Daisy agreed and, gathering up what was left of her dignity, followed him into the office.

A few hours later Daisy was sitting on the floor at Sea Mist Cottage feeling sorry for herself. Bug walked in and stopped abruptly at the sight of a forlorn-looking Daisy. They observed each other warily. Daisy decided she couldn’t be bothered to match wits with the dog today so she let him win the staring contest and he strutted off to make his spot on the sofa even more furry.

The interview hadn’t started well and had gone downhill from there. It turned out they were looking for a career receptionist – someone who was going to stay and grow with the company. Something Daisy wasn’t prepared to commit to. She hadn’t known how much there was to being a receptionist; her experience extended to welcoming people and serving tea and coffee. She hadn’t expected to have to take all the phone calls, manage the diary and appointment system, type letters and look after the petty cash. And with each question it had become evident she wasn’t experienced enough, which was a depressing realisation. She had emphasised her ability to absorb things quickly and her willingness to learn, but after a string of temps Stabb and Lakey wanted someone who already knew what they were doing and that wasn’t Daisy.

She had been to university – for a while, at least. Surely, she thought, two thirds of a degree across two subjects still counted for something? But she was starting to think this was an incorrect assumption. The lack of a finished degree along with her many short-lived roles only seemed to highlight her lack of dependability. It was a depressing truth that she had got to this point in her life with no credible career.

Daisy tried to console herself with the memories she had of the places she had visited and all the people she had met, but it was difficult to recall them without feeling how transitory it had all been. Nobody had ever pleaded with her to stay like Jason and Tamsyn had. It affected her in a way she hadn’t expected; it had chipped away at her hardened heart.

She dragged over the box of railway stuff. If she didn’t have a job she could at least sell some of the railway things. She rifled through for the photographs she’d missed when she’d found the box in the gloom of the old building. She pulled out the large envelope, which was a similar size and shape to the bottom of the box explaining how she had missed it the first time. She scattered the photographs onto the carpet in front of her and was drawn to one of the larger pictures. It was a great scene, with the railway building to the left of the picture and a large steam engine billowing out white vapour as a throng of people waved from the platform.