Love In The Spotlight E-Book

Julia Sutton

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

When Elizabeth Ryan is demoted on Christmas Eve, she resigns herself to a dismal future: selling kitchen utensils in a large department store.

The New Year looks bleak, but a chance encounter on a karaoke evening at her local pub introduces her to the glittering world of showbiz. The Rebels are an up-and-coming pop band who are preparing for a whirlwind tour of the UK. After some persuasion, Elizabeth auditions and is astonished when she is taken on as their backing singer.

Leaving her sleepy Cornish fishing village behind, Elizabeth moves to the manic noise of London. Catapulted into a world of fame, will she succeed in the dazzling world of music and open her heart once more to the possibility of love?

Leseprobe

love in the spotlight

THE SPOTLIGHT SERIES BOOK 1

JULIA SUTTON

contents

Acknowledgments

Also By The Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Note From The Author

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2022 Julia Sutton

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Lorna Read

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

For my lovely Mom-In-Law. Hope you enjoy this Nancy.

acknowledgments

Thank you to Miika Hannila and his team at Next Chapter Publishing for giving me the opportunity to be a published author and for working so hard on the creation of my book.

A huge thank you goes to my editor, Lorna Read for doing such a meticulous, thorough job on my manuscript.

Thank you to my lovely husband Stephen for supporting me and encouraging my love of creative writing.

Thank you to my children, Jack and Isabel – who have grown into the loveliest adults and who make me happy every day.

Thank you to my family and friends for all your love and encouragement.

A big thank you to my lovely friends on social media for your kindness, support and cyber love.

Thank you to you, the reader for taking an interest in my work – I really do appreciate it. I hope that you enjoy this book. 😊

also by the author

The Lake Of Lilies

The School Of Dreams 4 Book series

The School Of Dreams

Visions Of The Heart

Student Affairs

The Year Of New Beginnings

Christmas Magic At The Writers’ Retreat

Cocktails, Wedding Bells & Summer Madness

one

It was Monday morning again, the start of a new week with new possibilities. A chance to cast off the mistakes of yesterday. A fresh beginning, where new goals were made and bad habits were resolved to be broken. This particular week Elizabeth Ryan was determined to eat more healthily. Some might view this as foolish given it was the season of indulgence and greed, but she was desperate to lose weight and gain control of her expanding waistline. As the number six bus jolted over a road full of pot holes, Elizabeth tried unsuccessfully to balance her journal in a static position. She scrawled Day one of healthy eating plan in swirly red letters, underneath the entry for Christmas Eve, trying not to think about the impending crisp roast potatoes, cute little pigs in blankets and steaming bowl of Christmas pudding with lashings of brandy butter which would boost her day’s calorific value into the thousands. As the bus swerved around a corner, her stomach grumbled. This morning’s muesli and yoghurt had been a pitiful sight; she was ravenous and there was still four hours to wait until lunchtime.

Elizabeth closed her diary and peered out of the window. The outskirts of the city were covered in dense fog and ice particles were clinging to the window of the bus. Last night, she’d dug out her long faux fur coat and was thankful for its warmth. It was like being cocooned in a 10.5 tog duvet, she could almost pretend she was snuggled up in bed. Elizabeth glanced at the young man sitting next to her who, quite rebelliously, was wearing shorts. She felt like giving him a motherly poke and reminding him that it was winter and temperatures in Cornwall had fallen to the teeth-chattering stage. There was a Royal Mail post bag at his feet and she was comforted by the thought that brisk walking would probably keep him warm. But still, Elizabeth couldn’t stop looking at those shorts and the pasty white legs protruding from them. An involuntary shiver swept through her and the bottom of her coat flapped open, revealing a ladder running the whole length of her left leg. How was this possible in a pair of one hundred denier ribbed tights?

A sigh erupted from her mouth; this was not a promising start to another long working day. Before leaving home, she had spilt orange juice all over her freshly ironed blouse, then she had bumped her head on a cupboard door. Now her tights were ruined. It was, in fact, disastrous. Elizabeth pulled the hem of her skirt down to modest knee level. Normally so organised, she felt ill prepared for the busiest shopping day of the year. What else could happen on a dreary Monday morning, she wondered?

A blare of a horn and the bus came to a sudden jolt, flinging all of the passengers forwards in their seats. The pen Elizabeth was holding slipped from her fingertips. It rolled at the feet of the young man sitting next to her. Elizabeth bent over. There was a crack as she bumped foreheads with her travelling companion. She winced as her eyes filled with tears.

‘Sorry!’ She rubbed her brow, her mouth curving into a wobbly smile.

‘No problem,’ the young man passed her the pen, ‘probably black ice.’ He pushed his plugs back in his ears and turned away from her to stare out of the window.

Elizabeth reopened her diary and resolutely scribbled out her new week goal. Boxing Day would be a better day to start her diet, she decided and reached inside her handbag for a bottle of water. She could feel her neck and cheeks flushing and furtively unzipped her coat then began fanning herself with her notebook. The hot flushes were happening more frequently. As well as keeping her awake at night, they were now creeping upon her in the daytime. Elizabeth shrugged off her coat, taking care not to elbow her travelling companion. A middle-aged man on the opposite row looked at her with raised bushy eyebrows. Yes, I know it’s December, she was tempted to stand up and yell, but I’m perimenopausal and my body temperature gauge is broken.

With a sigh, Elizabeth delved in her pocket, searching for something to make the morning more bearable – a fluffy mint, perhaps, or a half chewed toffee? Anything sugary would do. Then, with a feeling of delight, her hand curled around what felt like a bar of chocolate and her spirits pinged upwards. For a moment, she wondered where it had come from. The food fairies must have slipped it inside when she was preparing today’s lunch. A quick peep down revealed a Bounty. Elizabeth quickly tore off the wrapper and bit into the dark, coconut infused chocolate. The delectable sweetness made her taste buds shiver and she closed her eyes as a feeling of pure bliss catapulted her out of her physical body and took her to another realm.

There was a sudden squeal of brakes as the bus ground to a halt and a stream of people boarded. One of the passengers was chuntering that the bus was already full and he wouldn’t be giving up his seat for anyone. Elizabeth was too focused on her snack to pay much attention. Then suddenly, someone was prodding her shoulder. Elizabeth opened one eye and flinched at the sight of Betty Smith peering inquisitively at her. Of all the people to catch her eating chocolate at eight in the morning, it had to be the manager of the local weight-loss group that Elizabeth attended.

‘Good morning,’ Betty crowed. ‘Are you all ready for Christmas?’

Elizabeth blinked. Of course, today was Christmas Eve, so it was perfectly acceptable to be snacking on confectionary.

Betty perched on the vacant seat in front of her and, turning to face Elizabeth, she gave her a beaming megawatt smile.

‘I’m not ready in the slightest,’ Elizabeth replied honestly. ‘I have so much to do.’

She stuffed the chocolate bar in her pocket and politely echoed the question back to Betty. The older lady launched into a spiel about how organised she was at this time of year and how much she loved Christmas. Pondering on her own feelings towards the festive season, Elizabeth quietly disagreed. To her, Christmas was a time for gluttony, of overspending, of fuss and tension. It was also a time when she was acutely aware of loss and the lingering effects of heartbreak.

Betty had moved on from Christmas now and was talking about the weight loss group which she ran. Fatbusters had opened three years ago. It was held in St-Leonards-By-Sea’s only library and consisted of around thirty middle-aged women of varying sizes. Elizabeth had been cajoled into attending by her friend Gloria. For two months she had suffered the embarrassment of being publicly weighed and, to make matters worse, her statistics yo-yoed from one week to the next; she currently weighed more than when she’d started. Elizabeth had decided to stop going, she’d resigned herself to the fact that she would always be plump or, as Martin used to say, ‘cuddly like a perfect teddy bear’.

‘Did you receive my message?’ Betty asked, her head cocked to one side and her mouth slightly open.

‘I haven’t,’ Elizabeth replied.

‘Oh, of course, you’re not in the Fatbusters group chat, are you? Have you got WhatsApp? If you give me your number, I’ll add you and then you’ll be able to receive all the up-to-date exciting group news.’

‘Okay, great.’ Elizabeth forced a smile, inwardly baulking at the idea of being bombarded with motivational messages from Betty Smith.

‘Well then…’ Betty looked at her expectantly.

‘Oh yes, right, you need my phone number.’ Elizabeth blushed.

‘That would be helpful.’

After they had exchanged numbers, Betty chattered away, leaving Elizabeth no alternative but to listen politely.

‘Although I do love this time of year, the shops are far so full of temptation, don’t you agree?’

‘Um, I suppose so.’

‘My husband insists on indulging on sweet treats: Chocolate Oranges, Matchmakers, giant Toblerone, Maltesers…’ Betty ticked off the offending items on her fingers. ‘He seems to forget that I religiously watch my weight and having all those sugary temptations in the house and knowing I can’t have them can be most disheartening.’

A noise escaped from Elizabeth’s throat. It was meant to be a sympathetic clucking but it sounded more like a cross between a snigger and a snort.

Betty gave her a sharp look. ‘Is your husband the same? Does he have a sweet tooth?’

Elizabeth swallowed as a stabbing pain twisted in her stomach. Don’t ask me about Martin, she thought desperately, especially not at this time of year. But Betty was staring at her and expecting an answer.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. ‘I live on my own. I’m a widow.’

‘Oh, my dear.’ Betty had the grace to look remorseful. ‘I’m so sorry, I had no idea.’

‘It’s okay.’ Elizabeth managed a weak smile. ‘It’s been two years now…’

‘When I lost my dog, Bruno, I grieved for months. I dropped two dress sizes.’

Elizabeth’s smile was rueful. ‘I put a stone on, I guess through comfort eating.’

Betty patted her hand. ‘Well, I hope that you’ll keep coming to the weight loss group. I can give you some recipes and vouchers for low fat foods. I’m sure you’ll shift the pounds if you really try.’ Betty glanced out of the window. ‘Oh, here’s my stop, it’s been lovely seeing you… er…’

‘Elizabeth.’

‘Have a very merry Christmas, and I’ll see you at Fatbusters in the New Year!’ Betty’s wide smile revealed a set of sparkling white dentures.

Elizabeth returned the festive sentiments. She watched as Betty alighted from the bus, then, with a sigh, rooted in her pocket and extracted the remainder of the melting chocolate.

Half an hour later, the bus pulled into the station. With a loud hiss, the doors opened and passengers flooded off. At this time in the morning, the town centre was a hive of activity; people rushing to work, impatient delivery van drivers honking their horns, shoppers waiting for the stores to open. As it was the last shopping day before Christmas, it was even busier. Elizabeth’s knees cracked as she rose to her feet. A queue had formed by the exit door and didn’t seem to be moving, so she peered above the head of a bent-over elderly woman. Some sort of altercation was transpiring between a man carrying a shiny briefcase and a young lady with a pram.

‘Will you wait a moment!’ The young lady looked tired and harassed. The businessman jostled past her, banging the side of the pram with his case. A wail emanated from it. Elizabeth could see the baby, she guessed it was no older than one. Its body had gone rigid and the face of the child was screwed up in temper. Elizabeth felt a jolt of a memory. Her own eldest son did this when he was teetering on a tantrum. Harry’s face would turn almost purple, just like this child’s. One, two, three… Elizabeth silently counted just as the baby began to scream.

People were chuntering now as the young mother tried to push the pram forwards. It seemed to be stuck on something. As the woman grappled with the frame, the polka-dot changing bag slipped off the bars and fell to the floor with a thud. Nappies and bottles were catapulted in all directions. A full bottle of formula rolled against Elizabeth’s feet. She was overwhelmed with sympathy and the urge to help.

‘Excuse me!’ She pushed past the other passengers. ‘Are you all right? Let me help you.’

Elizabeth crouched on the floor. It felt hard and scratchy and as she bent to retrieve the woman’s belongings she heard a rip and the ladder in her hosiery stretched further up her thigh.

‘What’s the hold-up?’ the bus driver grumbled. ‘Hurry up now, I have a schedule to stick to.’

Elizabeth stuffed the items back in the changing bag, zipping it up securely.

‘I can’t seem to move it.’ The young mum looked at her with tears in her eyes.

‘We can lift it,’ Elizabeth suggested. ‘You grab the front and I’ll hold the back.’

Together, they managed to carry the crying baby off the bus and set the pram down on the pavement. Elizabeth stared down at the front wheels.

‘I can see the problem,’ she said. Reaching into a pocket for a tissue, she leant down and wiped a big ball of chewing gum off the wheel. ‘How disgusting.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Tears were running down the woman’s cheeks. ‘I’m a useless mother.’

Elizabeth tutted. ‘Don’t be so disparaging about yourself. I remember when my children were babies. It’s hard. For every woman.’

‘No, it’s not,’ the young lady sobbed. ‘I haven’t slept properly in months, I’m so tired and snappy all the time and my baby seems to prefer my husband and my mother-in-law, anyone but me.’

Elizabeth dithered. She had two choices. She could make her excuses and leave this woman to sort herself out – if she left now she’d be early for work, which meant she’d be able to make herself a coffee and read a few magazines. The alternative was to offer this stranger in distress a kind, non-judgemental, listening ear. Elizabeth thought back to her own child-rearing days; the exhaustion and the feelings of inadequacy, the pressure to be the ‘perfect mother’. With hindsight, she knew this mythical being did not exist, but at the time it had felt very real, yet unattainable. Elizabeth looked at the emotional mum and was overwhelmed with compassion and empathy.

‘Are you in a rush?’ she asked. ‘We could grab a coffee and have a chat? I’m Elizabeth, by the way, Elizabeth Ryan and I don’t know about you but I’m dreading Christmas.’

two

Half an hour later, Elizabeth walked purposefully down the High Street. The market traders were in the process of erecting their pitches for the day. A few of them bid her good morning and shouted, ‘Merry Christmas!’ Elizabeth paused to inhale deeply. The air smelt like a fairground: toffee popcorn, candyfloss and roasting onions, scents which made her stomach rumble. Denis, who owned a stall selling continental cheeses, beckoned her over.

‘Try this, Lizzie,’ he said, with a wide grin.

‘What is it?’ Elizabeth’s nose wrinkled at the sight of the coloured cheese. ‘Is that mould?’

A look of indignation crossed the jolly stall holder’s face. ‘Mon dieu! This is the finest cheese, all the way from France. It is called Morbier lait cru.’ In one deft swipe he had cut a sliver and placed it on top of a wheat cracker. ‘Taste it, chérie, it is divine.’

‘Mmm.’ Elizabeth nodded as she bit into the cracker. She swallowed the creamy cheese then asked Denis to save her a piece.

‘I’ll collect it when my shift finishes later.’ She dug in her bag for her purse to pay him.

‘No, no.’ Denis adjusted his woolly hat before waving her away. ‘You can have a piece for free. Call it an early Christmas present.’

‘Thank you. Well, I should be on my way.’ Elizabeth glanced behind her at the darkened windows of Blooms, the department store where she worked.

‘Last day, love and then you can have some time off, eh?’ Denis stamped his feet and rubbed his hands, trying to dispel the cold.

‘Hardly!’ Elizabeth let out a snort. ‘I’m in the day after Boxing Day for the sales and we’re anticipating even larger crowds than normal.’

‘Well, if you get chance can you put in a good word for my cheese stall? Send some custom my way?’

‘Of course,’ Elizabeth replied with a grin. ‘Have a good day, and give my love to Fern.’

The sound of doors unlocking resounded behind her. ‘Gotta dash.’ Elizabeth gave him a little wave then turned to wait for the department store doors to slide open. As she walked into the shop, a hundred or more lights flickered on above her. They lit up the ground floor, where women’s clothing and the food section were stationed. Elizabeth stopped to admire a row of cashmere jumpers in various colours that were new in for the winter season. One of these would be a perfect Christmas gift for Gloria. She could just imagine her friend swathed in sage green, her dark hair tumbling across her shoulders, and maybe she could purchase a brooch to co-ordinate it with.

There were so many lovely items in this store, Elizabeth was thankful that, as a staff member of thirty years, she was entitled to a twenty-five percent discount. A memory assailed her: a vision of herself as a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old, eager and thirsty for success. When she had first started here, she had initially been placed on the food and drink section. Elizabeth had worked hard and impressed her manager with her conscientious and friendly manner. Within two years, she had been transferred to women’s clothing and promoted to assistant department manager. Elizabeth had skipped from department to department, gaining experience across the whole store. Then ten years ago she had received a generous pay rise and been awarded the title of head of women’s lingerie. Elizabeth had been there ever since.

She passed the shoe and jewellery section, pausing to pick up a pair of patent high heels that had tumbled to the floor.

‘Hi Lizzie.’ June, who worked on the food tills, beckoned her over.

‘Morning.’ Elizabeth shivered slightly as she walked past the fridge and freezer section.

‘Are you ready for the madness?’ June turned on her swivel chair. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night, worrying over how busy it’s going to be today.’

‘Is this your first Christmas?’ Elizabeth reached across to help her colleague empty change bags into the till.

‘Yes, I’ve only been here four months. Have you seen the turkeys that have been ordered? And the vegetables, too? I’ve never seen so many frozen sprouts.’

Elizabeth smiled. ‘The time will fly by and don’t forget we close at four.’

June breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness. Are you coming for drinks after? I heard that some of the big guns from head office are going to be there. They’re already here, you know, one of the cleaners told me they’ve been here since six. Holed up in the boardroom with Damon, some top secret meeting.’

Elizabeth grimaced at the sound of the general store manager’s name. Her relationship with Damon was cordial and coldly professional. He had never been especially friendly with her and there was a general consensus amongst the staff that Damon was an arrogant jerk. Rumours circulated about him; clandestine affairs with numerous impressionable Saturday staff, accusations of bullying and nepotism. Originally from the London branch, there were whispers that he had been sent to the Cornwall branch in disgrace after being caught in a provocative clinch with the married head of men’s clothing. Not usually one to listen to idle gossip, Elizabeth endeavoured to keep an open mind about her infamous boss, but there was no denying that Damon Hill had two sides to him. One day he could be utterly charming and the next, he could be utterly mean. Elizabeth hoped for the former, especially as, given the time of year, even miserable Damon might succumb to festive cheer and celebrate with the rest of the Blooms’ staff.

‘I’ll be there,’ she said to June. ‘But now I need to change my tights before my shift starts.’

‘Your tights?’ June’s mouth flapped open in puzzlement.

‘Don’t ask.’ Elizabeth heaved a sigh. ‘Good luck for your first Christmas experience, I’ll see you in the staffroom later.’ She waved cheerily and then set off in the direction of the ladies’ toilets, glad that her bag always held a spare pair of tights.

Ten minutes later, the doors of Blooms department store were officially open to the general public. Elizabeth reached women’s lingerie just in time to slot her key in the till. Her colleague Wendy was already there, tidying the stock. Elizabeth affixed her name badge and smiled. Now she was ready to face the day.

The morning flew by and, as anticipated by the staff, it was extremely busy. Women’s lingerie was inundated with men purchasing last minute gifts for their loved ones. When no one was waiting at the till, Elizabeth was busy bringing out fresh stock. She was sticking price tags on a set of long, scarlet satin negligees when she heard a man clear his throat behind her.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked politely, turning to face him.

The man was young, at a guess only in his twenties. He was eyeing the negligee in her hand and looked embarrassed.

‘Erm… can I ask your opinion?’

‘Of course.’ Elizabeth was used to men asking her opinion on ladies’ underwear. It didn’t bother her in the slightest, but it never failed to amuse her how her male customers would become so tongue-tied and red in the face. It was 2018, for goodness’ sake, and buying lingerie was nothing to be embarrassed about. This man was clearly uncomfortable.

‘Did you want to purchase nightwear?’ she prompted.

‘Yes,’ he ran a hand through his wavy blonde hair, ‘only my girlfriend likes dark colours – especially black.’

‘Right.’ Elizabeth hooked the red negligees onto a stand and looked around. ‘I think I have the perfect thing to show you.’ She weaved across to the other side of the floor with the man trailing after her. ‘These only came in a few days ago, they’ve been flying off the rails.’

The short black negligee was made of satin and had delicate roses embroidered on the breast. With a slit up the side, it was both pretty and sexy. Elizabeth had been tempted to purchase one for herself, but now, with Martin gone, she had no one to show it off to. Instead, she slept in brushed cotton knee-length shirts that were warm and comfortable. Elizabeth had forgotten what it felt like to be sexy.

‘That’s great!’ The man’s face shone with excitement. ‘I’ll definitely have one of those.’

‘Brilliant.’ Elizabeth stepped aside for him to pick one off the rails.

‘Erm…’ He looked suddenly sheepish.

Elizabeth knew what was coming. ‘You don’t know her size?’

‘Nope.’ The man shrugged, his face creased into a disarming grin. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m cheeky, but she looks about the same as you.’

‘Okay.’ Elizabeth nodded and reached for a size 16. ‘Keep hold of the receipt and if she needs to change it, that’s not a problem.’

The young man thanked her before wandering off towards the knicker section.

Elizabeth walked towards Wendy who had been watching them.

‘Another ignoramus?’

Elizabeth nodded. ‘Thankfully he didn’t ask me what size bra he should get.’

‘Why don’t they check the labels before they come shopping?’ Wendy said, with an eye-roll.

‘Maybe we should have a sign.’ Elizabeth laughed. ‘Please ensure you know the correct size before purchasing.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ Wendy replied with a titter. ‘Maybe you could suggest it at the next team meeting.’

Elizabeth wrinkled up her nose. ‘I think Damon already enjoys talking about women’s lingerie a little too much. He seems to have an unhealthy interest in our department.’

‘Ugh.’ Wendy shuddered. ‘He gives me the creeps. How some of the women here find him attractive amazes me.’

‘Well, they do,’ Elizabeth replied crisply. ‘It must be those suits he wears and his position of power. A lot of women like that, according to the magazines I read.’

‘Give me a working class man any day,’ Wendy sighed. ‘I need a man who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Someone big and burly who’ll throw me over his shoulder on the way to the bedroom. Of course he’d be in touch with his feminine side, too and wouldn’t gross out at the mention of periods.’

‘Sounds like you’re looking for Mr Perfect.’ Elizabeth clicked open the till and began tidying the cash notes. ‘If you’ve finished daydreaming, will you be okay if I grab twenty minutes for lunch?’

‘Go ahead.’ Wendy rested her chin on her hands. ‘Do you think George Clooney buys his wife sexy undies for Christmas?’

A bubble of laughter burst from Elizabeth’s mouth. ‘I think George Clooney’s wife probably wears nothing but the finest silk every day of the year.’

‘Yeah… lucky woman.’

Elizabeth picked up her handbag and darted off to the staffroom, leaving Wendy to her daydreams of unattainable men.

The staffroom was empty when she peeked her head in. Elizabeth clicked on the kettle then opened the fridge door to extract her salad. As she stared despondently down at the limp lettuce and curled cucumber, she wondered why she hadn’t packed a Cup-a-Soup and a few bread sticks instead. It was freezing in here. Frost was clinging to the windows which someone had left ajar, hardly a conducive environment to be eating salad. Muttering to herself, Elizabeth stood on one of the chairs and banged the windows shut, just as a group of women from the Homeware department entered. They gave her a cursory glance before sprawling on the seats; in her seat, to be exact.

Elizabeth bit her lip. The Homeware department was well known for being the cattiest section of the entire store. Over the years, several members of staff had started and left, citing bitchiness as one of the reasons for leaving. As head of department, Jane Bates should have dealt with the issues, but it seemed that she herself was one of the culprits. Wendy referred to her as Bitchy Bates; she was a statuesque blonde with long nails and perfectly waxed eyebrows. She was a sharp-tongued diva who didn’t seem to like anyone who wasn’t part of her clique. Bates was also Damon Hill’s cousin and effectively a blind eye was turned to her bullying and unprofessional work ethic. She was also well known as being thoroughly lazy. A combination of these unpleasant traits angered Elizabeth. When there were so many people out of work, it seemed grossly unfair that Jane Bates should hold a managerial position, just because of her family connections.

Elizabeth carefully clambered off the chair and went to sit on a seat which was the furthest away from Jane and her cronies. As she dug into the unappetising looking salad with her fork, she couldn’t help over hearing Jane bragging about the sales in the Homeware department.

‘Of course, it’s largely down to the excellent customer service,’ Jane said, with a flick of her hair. ‘Damon told me we’re a serious contender for department of the year.’ As she blathered on about her skills as a sales assistant, Elizabeth valiantly tried to keep quiet but a snort escaped from her mouth.

‘Elizabeth.’ Jane turned her ice cold eyes on her. ‘Have you heard about the shake-up from head office?’

‘No.’ Elizabeth swallowed a chilly tomato.

‘There are going to be big changes, apparently.’ Jane inspected her nails. ‘There’s a rumour heads are going to roll.’

‘I don’t listen to rumours,’ Elizabeth replied crisply.

‘Well, this came from Damon directly.’ Jane gave her a saccharin-sweet smile. ‘Sales in certain departments are down and there’s talk of redundancies.’

‘I’ll worry about that if it happens.’ Elizabeth snapped the lid back on her Tupperware box. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to work.’ She picked up her belongings, then, as she was heading towards the door, it opened and Damon stood there with a serious expression splashed across his face.

‘Ah, just the person.’

‘I was just heading back.’ Elizabeth swung her bag onto her shoulder. ‘I had an early lunch while it was quiet.’

‘This won’t take long,’ Damon’s tone had an edge to it. The hairs on Elizabeth’s nape stood upright.

‘If you’ll just come with me, we need to discuss a matter of, er… importance.’

From behind her, Elizabeth could hear her colleagues whispering. Reluctantly, she nodded and followed him down the corridor, towards the spiral staircase which would take her into the scary land of senior management.

three

Damon’s office was a cold, sterile place. It reminded Elizabeth of her dentist’s with its whitewashed walls, chrome furnishings and stark lighting. It smelt faintly of lavender polish and sickly sweet aftershave. Elizabeth looked around, expecting to see a drill, scalpel, other instruments of torture and him in sanitised NHS scrubs, telling her to relax and smile. Then she noticed another figure in the corner of the room and felt a sense of relief that she wasn’t alone with the creepy store manager.

Next to a bubbling tank of tropical fish sat a lady. She looked young, barely out of her twenties, with plum-coloured hair, glossy red lipstick and pronounced cheekbones which were covered in the kind of sparkly glitter that young children wear at birthday parties. Her attire was a combination of sexy femme fatale meets naughty nun; a tight-fitting transparent blouse, clinging pencil skirt and painful-looking stilettos. Elizabeth had never seen her before, and wondered if she was Damon’s new fling.

In the two years he’d been working at the Cornwall branch, he’d been associated with a string of beautiful women. Last year, one of them had caused an awful scene at the staff Christmas party. Drunk by eight o’clock, said woman had danced on the table, vomited over a potted plant and had then become enraged with jealousy after Damon had danced with a leggy blonde from the cosmetics department.

As Damon skirted around his desk, Elizabeth gave him a questioning look.

‘Sit down, Liz,’ he said, motioning to a leather chair.

Immediately Elizabeth’s hackles were up. People she liked shortened her name and usually to Lizzie. She herself had never been a fan of Liz and it was a relief that her father wasn’t here, for he would surely have snapped that Elizabeth was her name. Mum and Dad had named her after the Queen of England and all the way through her childhood they insisted that she was called by her full name. She acceded that yes, during her formative school years Elizabeth had found it a challenge to write. She envied her peers who were called short, flowery names such as Rose and Lily, but now, as a mature woman nearing fifty, she liked the pomp and regal connotations that the name Elizabeth invoked. She didn’t like the patronising general manager, who had his own derogatory nickname whispered amongst the staff, shortening it one bit.

Damon picked a stress ball up from his immaculate desk and gave it a quick squeeze. An embarrassing sound ricocheted around the office; it reminded Elizabeth of drawn out flatulence and a bubble of laughter caught in the back of her throat.

‘There’s no easy way of saying this.’ His smile was taut and didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I suppose you’ve heard the rumours?’

‘I had heard talk of redundancies, but I thought it was just gossip from the Homeware department.’ Elizabeth shifted slightly, unnerved by his ice blue stare.

Damon leant back on his chair and Elizabeth had a sudden urge to tip him from it, preferably out of the window behind him. From where she was sitting, she could see the roofs of nearby buildings. If she pushed hard enough, she thought he might end up on the sharp pinnacle of the church spire and then someone nice, with integrity, could take his position at Blooms.

‘Liz…’

Elizabeth shook her head to dispel the vision. ‘Sorry, miles away.’

Damon frowned. She knew she’d riled him, his arrogance commanded her full attention. He picked up a pen, twirling it like a baton, no doubt a show to impress the young lady, who looked faintly bored.

‘This is Sabrina.’

Elizabeth twisted in her chair and said hello.

‘Sabrina’s a new staff member, she’ll be starting in the New Year.’

‘Oh… well, that’s nice.’ Elizabeth wondered what it had to do with her. Staff came and went all the time at Blooms, but Damon had never introduced her to a newbie before.

‘Sabrina’s a graduate,’ Damon continued. ‘She was awarded a first in business and finance,’ he paused for effect, ‘from a top London university.’

‘Well done,’ Elizabeth murmured. She heard Sabrina sigh.

‘As well as being highly intelligent, she also has creative flair and an eye for colour.’

‘I have A levels in Textiles and Art,’ Sabrina interjected.

‘Ooookay.’ Elizabeth was by now feeling completely bemused and wondering

why Damon had chosen the busiest shopping day of the year to share this with her. ‘I really should get back, Wendy’s on her own and…’

Damon held up his hand to quieten her. ‘I’m sure Wendy can cope.’ He sighed theatrically. ‘As you’ve probably heard, the big bosses have been in… they’re demanding a shake-up of certain areas within the store.’

‘You’re making me redundant?’ Elizabeth brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, her hand shaking slightly.

‘No! Of course not, Liz, you are a valued member of my team, where would you get that silly idea?’

‘Then what is it, Damon?’ She was starting to lose her patience with this stupid, pretentious man.

‘You’re being relocated.’

Elizabeth blinked. ‘I am?’

‘I’ve discussed this with other management and we feel that you’re wasted in women’s lingerie.’

‘But I like working in women’s lingerie,’ Elizabeth said through gritted teeth.

Damon cleared his throat. ‘Sabrina here is the new head of women’s lingerie.’

‘What?’ Elizabeth’s mouth flapped open. ‘Since when?’

‘She’ll start in the New Year.’ He held up his hands in an effort to placate her. ‘It makes sense, Liz. She’s young, vibrant, eager and dynamic – perfect for, er… women’s underwear.’

‘But… but…’

‘Your department is lagging behind the others. We need a set of fresh, youthful eyes to turn it around.’

‘It’s always busy, Damon,’ Elizabeth protested.

Damon looked down at his unblemished nails. ‘But not busy enough and Sabrina here is full of ideas and energy to increase the profits. Having her in charge is a win-win situation.’

‘Fine.’ Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped. ‘Where will I go?’

Damon sprang out of his chair and began pacing the room. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about this and I’ve asked myself, where would be the best fit for one of Blooms’ longest-serving employees? Somewhere more fitting with your character.’

‘My character?’ Elizabeth wondered what on earth he was wittering on about.

‘Somewhere traditional, reserved. Somewhere less challenging.’

Elizabeth could feel her spirits sinking lower and lower. Oh please, no.

Damon placed his hand on her shoulder, and instinctively Elizabeth flinched.

‘You, my dear, are the new full-time sales assistant in kitchen utensils.’

Elizabeth bit her lip and dug her nails into the palm of her hand. ‘As a department manager?’ She could hear the desperation in her blurted words.

Damon’s smile was smug. ‘We thought you would appreciate a less… stressful role.’

‘So I’m being demoted?’ Outraged, adrenaline pulsed through her veins. She wanted to grab the paperweight off Damon’s desk and hurl it at his perfectly gelled head.

‘Now, now,’ the joviality in his voice made her want to scream, ‘see it as a sideways step. You’ll still have all the staff perks, without the pressure.’

Elizabeth straightened her shoulders. ‘Okay. Just one more question, Damon.’

‘Fire away,’ he said, with a satisfied smirk.

‘Who’s my line manager?’

‘You already know, Liz. Come, come, less of the pretence. It’s Jane Bates, of course.’

And with that final nail in the coffin. Damon grinned a megawatt smile. ‘Welcome to the Homeware family.’

‘Let me at the jerk!’ Wendy banged the till drawer so hard the whole thing shook.

‘Get in the queue,’ quipped Elizabeth as she slipped off her shoes, letting her feet sink into the plush carpet. Now the store was closed, she felt the stress ebbing out of her body.

‘I can’t believe they’re moving you!’ Wendy pulled Elizabeth into a fierce hug. ‘I’m going to miss you so much.’

‘We’ll still see each other,’ came Elizabeth’s muffled response.

‘But it won’t be the same,’ wailed Wendy. ‘Can’t we complain? Go to the union?’

Gently, Elizabeth extricated herself. ‘We’re not in a union.’

‘There must be something we can do.’ Wendy’s eyes brightened. ‘I could start a petition – “keep Elizabeth Ryan as head of women’s lingerie”.’

Elizabeth pursed her lips. ‘What Damon said is complete nonsense. We’ve taken thousands today.’

‘And it’s all down to you,’ Wendy cut in. ‘The customers love you, you’re brilliant at your job and you’re so good at dressing the window. The management must be crazy.’

Elizabeth gazed wistfully at the mannequins on show in different poses. She’d created a festive scene which included fake snow, a towering artificial Christmas tree complete with angel and baubles, polystyrene reindeers and glittery hanging stars. Some of the mannequins were swathed in warm winter pyjamas, complete with slipper boots and fluffy dressing gowns and the others she’d dressed in sexy negligees and risqué underwear. There was something for every discernible customer; shoppers frequently slowed down to admire her creations before nipping into the store to make their purchases.

‘They don’t have a window in Homeware.’ Elizabeth’s voice had a plaintive tone to it.

‘Jesus, no! It’s in the basement, isn’t it?’ Wendy clenched her fists. ‘That bastard’s done this on purpose. He knows how happy you are here and what a good working relationship we have. Now I’m going to have to work with a know-it-all graduate who’ll probably turn this department into a replica of Ann Summers.’

‘That might not be so bad.’ Elizabeth winked to lighten the tension.

‘Are you kidding? If this Sabrina has her way, we’ll be selling vibrators, butt plugs and furry handcuffs. I mean, I’m no prude, but we’ve always been classy and upmarket. We’ve never sold tat.’

‘Well, there’s nothing we can do,’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘The decision’s been made and if I… we want to keep our jobs. then we’ll have to tow the line.’

‘It’s so crap, though!’ Wendy swiped at her runny nose. ‘And poor you, having to work with Jane Bates. How will you cope?’

Elizabeth took a deep breath. ‘I will meditate each morning and go to my happy place whenever she’s around.’

Wendy snorted with laughter. ‘I’d be making a voodoo doll of her and sticking pins in it if I worked with the cow.’

It was at that precise moment that Jane Bates walked around the corner. Elizabeth nudged Wendy, telling her to shush.

‘I hear you’re going to be working for me, Liz?’ Jane said, with a sniff and a distinct superior sneer on her face. ‘Won’t that be fun!’

‘Looking forward to it,’ Elizabeth said, with an overly sweet smile. Her façade was one of calm indifference, but her insides were shuddering at the prospect of having to report to Jane Bates. Life at Blooms department store would never by the same again. A sense of foreboding settled over Elizabeth like a heavy, depressing cloak.

‘See you at the party,’ Jane trilled, with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand.

‘That woman could curdle milk.’ Wendy rubbed Elizabeth’s arm in a gesture of solidarity. ‘I hope this doesn’t spoil your Christmas.’

‘Of course it won’t.’ Elizabeth took the key out of the till and surveyed the remaining merchandise. ‘We’ve sold most of the stock in one day. Come on, let’s go show our faces at this staff party and then we can get off home.’

‘Hallelujah!’ Wendy raised her arms heavenwards. ‘As it’s Christmas Eve, I’m planning on ordering a takeaway later and drinking vast amounts of wine. Who cares if I burn the turkey tomorrow?’

The lights flickered off as they walked across the store towards the elevator. Wendy chattered away, telling Elizabeth about the presents she’d bought her kids. Her happiness and enthusiasm brought a lump to Elizabeth’s throat. She’d been exactly the same with her own three children, but now they were all grown-up, independent adults and with Martin gone, the magic of Christmas had vanished. To Elizabeth, it was just another day. A reminder of loss and loneliness, but this year she was determined to at least try to be happy and when she finally got home, she’d start by digging out the box labelled Christmas and decorate her flat.

four

Later that evening, as she was wrapping the lights around the tree, the phone rang. Elizabeth tiptoed across the room, careful to avoid the baubles and decorations strewn over the floor. She picked up the handset and said hello.

‘Mum! It’s your favourite son.’

Elizabeth smiled at the sound of Harry’s voice. ‘How are you? And how’s Thailand?’ She sank down onto the sofa, a mental image of her eldest son floating before her. Dark-haired and handsome with Elizabeth’s blue eyes and dimples, at twenty-four years old, Harry was in the prime of his life.

‘A-ma-zing,’ he replied.

Elizabeth smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice. ‘And how’s your brother?’

‘He’s fine. Great. In the sea at the moment, playing ball with a group of German girls, he said to give you his love and he’ll call you tomorrow.’ There was a pause. ‘Are you all ready for Christmas?’

‘I’m just decorating the flat,’ Elizabeth replied. ‘But yes, everything’s under control.’

‘Is Granddad going to be there?’

‘Yes.’ Elizabeth smiled at the mention of her eighty-seven-year-old father. ‘And Annabel, too.’

‘How is the squirt?’

‘She’s okay I think, love. You know what your sister’s like, doesn’t tell you much about her life.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘I haven’t seen her since the summer so it will be nice to catch up.’

‘I’m glad you’re not going to be on your own. I worry about you, Mum.’

‘No need.’ Elizabeth gripped the phone, overwhelmed with love for her sensitive son. ‘I’ll be back at work soon, back to normal.’ Tears welled in her eyes as she thought about her imminent work restructure.

Silence stretched between them, she could hear the sound of swishing waves and laughter. How she wished she was away from dreary Britain, somewhere warm, with gorgeous scenery. Maybe she’d do a Shirley Valentine and run away to Greece. How long had it been since she’d actually had a holiday? Four years? Before Martin’s death, when he’d been seriously ill and battling bowel cancer for eighteen months, they’d planned on going to Spain. A last holiday together, but then he’d deteriorated so quickly, those plans had been shelved.

‘Mum, are you all right?’ Harry brought her back to the present.

‘Yes, love.’ She sniffed. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘You’re missing Dad, aren’t you? I knew we shouldn’t have come here for Christmas. Damn Josh, and his madcap plans. We should be there with you, together as a family.’