She’d just have to look at it as the start of her new adventure, she told herself for the umpteenth time.
As Markus closed the door behind them, a figure had appeared in the doorway of what Holly presumed would be the front room in a normal, functioning household.
It was at that precise moment, when she’d looked into the man’s lifeless eyes, that she had realised this first night was probably going to be a far worse experience than she had previously imagined.
Chapter Nineteen
David
I watch as the driver of the silver BMW parks up at the top of the car park, behind the assistant manager’s outsized Range Rover.
I’ve seen this underhanded strategy many times since I started the job. Some folks think that if they park as far away from my office as possible and use a larger vehicle as cover, I won’t notice they are parking illegally.
Barely blinking, I train my eyes on the spot, and within a matter of seconds I catch a glimpse of the driver disappearing up the near-invisible alleyway in the top corner.
It’s a little-known short cut through which one is able to double back onto the main street and the shopping mall beyond.
I smile in satisfaction as my eyes drop to the clipboard.
I already have his full registration number, recorded a mere second or two after he entered the car park. I pick up the phone and speed-dial Bob at Clamp ’Em, a company we use that’s located a mere stone’s throw from the store.
‘Be there in a jiffy, David,’ Bob says brightly. ‘We’ll give him a nice two-hundred-quid surprise for when he gets back from his shopping trip, eh?’
I sigh with contentment and lean back in my padded chair.
Job satisfaction is a fine thing. The outside world is a different matter altogether, but here, in my office, I am king.
My word is law, as that arrogant Beamer driver is about to discover.
I grab my high-vis jacket and quickly lock up the office. I’ve probably got five minutes at the most before Bob arrives with his specialist clamping equipment.
He’s got the offending vehicle’s registration number and he can get on with the job without me, but if I’m honest, I don’t want to miss all the fun.
I use the shop’s back entrance and bump into Cath, the receptionist.
‘I’m after Mr Kellington, Cath,’ I say briskly, one arm tangling up in my jacket as I try to get it on. ‘I’ve some important information for him.’
Cath’s mouth seems to fight a smirk, but I’m probably imagining it. There’s nothing funny about a parking violation. ‘He’s upstairs, David, just about to interview for the sales assistant vacancy. You might catch him if you hurry.’
I race upstairs up to the small suite of management offices.
Mr Kellington likes to be aware of everything that happens on the premises. I know he’ll appreciate me taking the time to inform him about today’s rogue driver.
I probably initiate about four or five clamps a month, and Mr Kellington once informed me that this figure was double the number carried out under the previous parking assistant’s watch.
‘Our last attendant didn’t quite have your… shall we say, enthusiasm, for punishing offenders,’ he’d said, smiling at me in that funny way he sometimes did when I handed him my weekly parking violations report. ‘He always warned them first, you see.’
I’ve no time for that sort of softly-softly approach, particularly when drivers pass a large black-and-white sign on the way in:
CUSTOMER PARKING ONLY. OFFENDERS WILL BE CLAMPED.
If that’s not a clear enough warning, I don’t know what is.
As I near the top of the stairs, I spot Mr Kellington and Josh speaking to a smartly dressed young lady. Josh sweeps an open arm to steer her into the meeting room.
I’m just on the brink of calling out, to catch them before they disappear into the office, when, entirely of their own accord, my feet suddenly stop dead.
From a distance, I didn’t register the significance of the shoulder-length light brown hair, nor the dark, brooding eyes and sensible flat shoes.
But when she turns to thank Josh for holding the door, I realise exactly who she is.
It’s the girl from next door.
Mrs Barrett’s visitor.
Chapter Twenty
There are lots of things I don’t recall very clearly, but I remember watching her. In the café.
It didn’t take me long to work out that when she could, she sat in the same place.
Once she was busy chatting, it wasn’t too difficult to squeeze in at one of the tables just around the corner. The ones that are usually free because they’re tight for space… but also conveniently out of her line of sight.
Just a friendly suggestion: she should learn to speak a little more quietly.
I learned a lot about her just by listening, even before we actually met.
She gave me the idea; she made me want to get to know her better.
She’d do well to remember that.
She can’t see me from down here, has no clue that I have a bird’s-eye view of her every move. She spends most of her time in the living room or the kitchen, and occasionally she comes out into the yard.
It hasn’t taken me long to establish her routine. I know that if I can get around the back of the house, stand under the cover of an oak tree that shades the unmade path that runs across into open fields, I can watch her in the bedroom, too.
She always puts on the light and then closes the thin bedroom curtains. Sometimes she stands there for a few moments, illuminated by the stark light behind her, staring out into the darkness. It seems as if she knows I’m here, watching. I often feel like she’s reaching out to me, wanting me to show my face.
Of course, I never do. For now, it’s best she hasn’t got a clue that I’m getting to know her, watching her live her uneventful life.
There’s no need for her to know my intentions at this point.
She’ll become aware of them soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-One
Holly
The day after her interview, Holly started the new job.
On her arrival at the main entrance, she was impressed that Mr Kellington himself had taken the time to give her a tour of the large three-storey premises.
Afterwards, he spoke to her for a good thirty minutes in his office, availing her of the family history behind the company and the ethos that he said made Kellington’s different.
‘We’re a business like any other,’ he began, lifting his chin and tweaking his black-and-white-spotted bow tie. ‘But our customer service must never be sacrificed in favour of the balance sheet. As my father told me when I started here fifty years ago as an apprentice: the customer always comes first at Kellington’s.’
Holly nodded in all the right places, but as Mr Kellington continued, she started to understand.
‘When a customer approaches you, we don’t click the stopwatch here, Holly. If they want to talk about the holiday they’ve just returned from in the Caribbean, then listen. Maybe tell them it’s a place you’ve always wanted to go, or talk about your own holiday experiences to build some rapport.’
Fat chance of that, Holly thought. She hadn’t taken a holiday in years.
‘Get to know the products inside out so you can best advise the customer on what they need. They might not know themself, and you can help them make the necessary decisions. And the most important thing of all,’ Mr Kellington added, ‘is to remember there’s no hard sell here. You will receive a good commission structure for all goods sold, but we want our customers to return, not to feel they’ve been pressured or fleeced.’
Holly immediately thought about her last job before leaving Manchester. It had been in a vast, impersonal call centre, selling life insurance. The manager had told her to say literally anything to get the customers to buy, particularly during December, when family took priority over telesales products and any spare cash was spent on presents.
‘Scare them with the facts,’ he’d said. ‘Ask them what good all their gifts will do if their family get lumbered with crippling funeral costs.’