by C. K. Martin
‘Surely a warning sign would be enough? A rope will make it look a lot less welcoming.’
‘A warning sign is reliant on people being able to read.’
‘It’s a book shop. If they’ve come in here looking for something, it’s a pretty good bet they can read.’
‘This is serious.’ The stern look was back again, although for a second Kayleigh was sure she saw a twinkle of amusement in the other woman’s eyes. If it was there, it was gone as soon as it had come.
‘Okay, okay. So I’ll get some kind of warning sign and a rope put up. Will that do? Where do I sign to say I’ll get on with it?’
‘I’m afraid there’s more.’
‘Seriously?’
‘I wish that was it. I don’t enjoy having to be the one to do this.’
‘I’m sure you don’t.’ Kayleigh could hear the spite in her own voice and the woman’s face hardened again. Damn. She’d made it worse. A sinking feeling came over her. Whatever was coming next wasn’t going to be good.
‘We need to discuss your electrical set up.’
‘Electrical…’ There it was. Kayleigh’s heart sunk like a stone. Minor infractions were an annoyance. Major ones could shut down an actual business for weeks. She knew of one of the locals who had almost lost their livelihoods one summer. The old buildings on the high street brought with them traditional character, but that came with structural issues all the time. She couldn’t afford to have the store closed down on health and safety grounds during the busiest period of the year for her.
‘Yes, electrical.’ Jo looked at her notepad again as if to remind herself of the facts. ‘You’ve got too many lights using extension cables.’
‘Is that all? I can turn the lights off.’ Kayleigh breathed a sigh of relief. It wouldn’t be quite the same as a beautifully lit giant tree, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
‘Which made me realise that the sockets you were using weren’t up to code in that part of the building.’
‘Ah.’ Oh yes. That. A job she had been meaning to get done for quite a while. The alcove was technically powered by the older part of the building that served as an office, but wasn’t strictly part of the shop. Her grandfather had interpreted that, she had discovered one winter evening when the power tripped, as a nice technicality to effectively halve the cost of the shop rewire. It worked fine. So fine, in fact, that she was able to make sure the task of getting it fixed remained permanently at the bottom of her to do list. A tree without lights wasn’t pretty, but a tree in total darkness was something else entirely. Even in summer, the bright natural light from outside couldn’t penetrate that part of the bookstore. She’d need a torch if someone wanted an item from the shelves.
‘Does that mean you knew it was a problem?’ The woman’s pen was hovering over the form. Kayleigh swallowed. It felt like a trap. She knew it was a problem before she put the tree up, somewhere in her awareness. But it wasn’t like she had remembered and then actively flouted the rules in the hope of getting away with it. She simply had too much on this time of year to remember trivialities like local government codes. Her mouth opened, her brain still grasping for the correct reply. When none came, she closed it again, do her best impression of a dying salmon. Panic began to take over. She looked at Jo again. Their eyes locked. Then almost imperceptibly, there was a slight shake of the head.
Was she telling her to say no? Kayleigh was confused. Without seeing the forms, she had no idea of the consequences of saying yes. It wouldn’t be a lie, exactly. Yes, it would. The twin voices of guilt and self-preservation argued in her head. It had seemed like a shake of the head. An insignificant twitch that was enough to let self-preservation win the argument. ‘No?’ It came out as more of a question than a statement. A flicker of a smile on Jo’s face and she placed a cross through one of the boxes.
‘That’s good to know. Deliberate infringements are viewed quite harshly. There can be additional fines if done with intent.’
‘Definitely no intent here.’ This time, with a cost associated with the answer, it was much easier to issue a denial. Cash flow was always tight. The slush fund she kept for emergencies such as this wouldn’t stretch to an additional fine. It would barely stretch to cover the cost of getting the issue fixed. She hoped.
‘At least the front half of the shop is up to code. Which means I won’t be issuing you a notice to cease trading. I’m afraid that the back half of the shop will be out of bounds until it gets resolved. Lights and sockets.’
‘You mean I can’t just turn the extension leads off and carry on with things how they normally are?’
‘No. In the interests of public health and safety, I can’t allow that to happen until there has been a re-inspection confirming you are up to code.’
‘A re-inspection? At this time of year? What are the chances of me getting one of those?’ The sinking feeling was beginning to take hold. Getting an electrician to take on a big job at this time of year was going to be tough enough. Getting someone from the council to come back out on an unscheduled job wasn’t going to happen until the New Year. By then, it would be too late. The tears began to well up in her eyes and she clenched her jaw tight together in a bid to stop them from brimming over. She wasn’t prone to crying at the slightest thing, but at this time of year…
‘Given the nature of the incident, we will do everything we can to ensure that a re-inspection happens in a timely manner. But I can’t make any promises.’
‘Of course you can’t.’
‘I wish there was something else I could do.’
‘You don’t care. If you did, then you would let me sort it out after Christmas like a decent person.’
‘Ms Johnson, may I remind you that I am well within my rights to shut down your entire operation if I deem it to be dangerous to the general public. Your entire operation.’ She looked meaningfully around the rest of the shop. ‘I am letting you off on a technicality, but if you want me to begin my inspection again and reassess, I am more than willing to?’
‘No, that won’t be necessary.’ Kayleigh deflated. There was no argument she could win here. She was, after all, in the wrong and she knew it. If it hadn’t been this year, then another would have passed without her thinking about it. She’d never had any trouble with the council before. It was just her here now and when you worked alone, then only the urgent jobs tended to get done. Better now, she supposed, than before the whole place was set on fire by one set of fairy lights too many.
‘Good. Here are your copies of the forms.’ Jo tore off the top copy and handed it over. She fished around in her bag and pulled out a small paper rectangle. ‘Here’s my card. It’s got my office number and my mobile number on it. When you get the work done, if you call me directly I will do what I can to get the visit prioritised. If you just call the main office, it will go to the bottom of the list. That’s about the best I can do I’m afraid.’
‘Fine.’ Kayleigh didn’t take the offer in good grace. Her better nature was refusing to come out to play, even though she supposed the card was meant to be an olive branch. She snatched it from Jo’s hand and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans without even reading it. When she looked back up, Jo’s face was once again hard and distant. Kayleigh knew she was blowing chances left right and centre, but she didn’t care. One small crack in her walls today and the whole thing would come tumbling down. ‘Are you done? I need to close up.’
‘Yes. Thank you for your time.’
‘Oh, the pleasure was all mine.’ Sarcasm was the intent, but maliciousness undercut the humour. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Kayleigh watched as Jo stuffed her things in her bag and moved to the front of the store. She paused, for a second, to look at something on one of the shelves. Then she was gone, opening and closing the door to the tinkling of a bell that sounded so forlorn that it prompted more tears.
This time, Kayleigh just let them fall.
CHAPTER TWO
Jo twisted the key in the
lock, a once reflex action that was now coming back to her. The door popped open and a welcome rush of heat met her. She slipped inside and closed it behind her, leaning back against the wood. That had to go down as the worst day of the new job so far.
Gently, so as not to attract attention, she banged the back of her head against the door several times. This was a nightmare. An absolute living nightmare. Proof that life could turn on a dime as her father would say, even though he had never been to America and had probably never seen a dime. Too many bloody westerns on TV when he was growing up most likely.
Speaking of which, the house was in silence. The lights were on and the heating was most definitely on, but there were no other noises. Panic reared its ugly head and she set off to the living room without removing her boots.
Jo pushed open the door, her brain preparing her to see images of her father lying there on the floor, helpless. Worse, dead. Guilt images, she knew that. Ones she had conjured up for herself a million times in the last two months. She shot through the door and looked at the floor.
Nothing.
As her eyes swivelled to her father’s chair, he looked at her quizzically, pausing his crossword. The pencil hovered mid-air as he tried not to smile. Clearly she looked like a possessed lunatic. ‘And how are you?’ he asked. He looked her up and down, taking in the coat and boots that were usually left at the front door.
‘It was quiet in here.’ A bit of a non-sequitur response.
‘I’m doing the crossword. The TV was distracting me so I turned it off. That’s not a crime is it?’
‘Sorry. I was just worried.’
‘Well go and get out of those damp clothes or there will be two of us you have to worry about.’
‘Yes Dad.’ Feeling foolish that she had once again over-reacted, she left the man to his crossword and traipsed back out into the hall. Taking off the professional coat and boots, she began to feel her true self start to emerge. The bottom of her trousers felt damp and she knew her father was right. This sort of weather seeped into everything. She set off up the stairs she had climbed a thousand times as a teenager, but perhaps not more than a dozen since she had left for university. Up until the last few weeks, that was.
In her old bedroom, she threw off her clothes and pulled on the comforting warmth of an old pair of jeans and a festive jumper. Boxes, still unpacked, blocked her way to the bookcase, but she looked at it, trying to imagine what it must be like to own your own bookstore. It felt like a fairytale and she had been the villain in that story today. She closed her eyes in frustration again and headed down the stairs.
She made two cups of tea and placed one on the tray that sat atop of the walking aid her father was supposed to use. ‘Here you go.’
‘Thanks, Love. How was your day?’
‘Finish your crossword first.’ It wasn’t really an act of generosity. Jo simply needed another moment before she could even begin to verbalise how her day was. How could she say to the man in front of her that it was the kind of day that made her want to pack her bags and leave all over again?
‘The crossword can wait until tomorrow. When I spend most of my day alone, why do something like that when I’ve got some company? Besides, I’ve been stuck on sixteen down for an hour now.’
‘Do you want me to help?’
‘No thanks young lady. It’s my body that’s gone, not my mind. You start doing the crosswords for me and it’ll be sure to follow, mark my words.’
‘I’m not sure my brain would be of any use to you today anyway.’
‘You look tired.’
‘Yes, that’s all it is.’
‘You need a break. Why don’t you go away for the weekend? I can manage.’
‘No, that’s okay. This close to Christmas everyone will already have plans. I’m just going to have a lazy day here instead. Perhaps unpack the rest of the boxes in my room.’ She plastered on a bright smile. It sounded plausible to her own ears. Whether or not she would fool him was a different matter.
Her father was right, he still had all his mental faculties. For that, she was infinitely grateful on a daily basis. But when it came to his own physical capabilities, he remained wilfully optimistic. To the point, she knew, of delusion. He hated using his walking trolley. The first time he had seen it, he had taken one look at the table at the top — a feature she had thought was a particularly nice touch — and asked if she had stolen it from IKEA.
It wasn’t that he was antagonistic about it. She knew he wasn’t being a pain in the arse for the sake of it. Although he had his moments, he was still the same father he had been all her life. He hadn’t mellowed, but he hadn’t turned into a cantankerous old man either. He was just unable to be realistic about his fate. Perhaps if she had been around, she would have been able to suggest the trolley aid a while back. Then he might never have taken the tumble that brought her back here for good.
‘Well, if you’re going to be around,’ he continued, reaching out and taking his cup of tea, ‘perhaps you wouldn’t mind picking up a thing or two for me from the village?’
‘Of course I wouldn’t.’
‘It gets harder to get presents every year. I have no idea what to get you these days.’
‘You don’t have to get me anything.’
‘Of course I do. You might be too old for Santa now, but you’re not too old for presents. Have a think about it. Give the old man a few ideas.’
‘Don’t you want to come with me? We could go together and you could take a look for yourself.’
‘In that contraption? You won’t be able to get around with it this time of year.’ He didn’t have to specify which contraption he was talking about. The wheelchair. The public symbol of his fall into frailty and away from being the strapping man he once was. Since she had returned, she had taken him out in it a handful of times. She couldn’t say it had been a particularly pleasant experience for either of them. She was not, as it turned out, a natural wheelchair pusher. Just as much as he wasn’t one of life’s natural patients.
Yet here they were. Stuck with each other.
Jo pushed the thought away. It had been her choice to return to look after him. The broken hip was a sign she simply couldn’t ignore. So many weekends had slipped by with the promise of a visit that never came. She was young. She had a social life. She had escaped the small town she had grown up in and vowed never to come back to. The fall had changed all that. Without a mobile phone, without any kind of alarm system to alert people to his distress, her father had simply been lucky. He had fallen close enough to the telephone table that he was able to pull it over and call for an ambulance himself. Even then, as best as they could tell, he had been lying there for a couple of hours before he had managed it.
It was the thought that had plagued her every day and night since. What if he hadn’t been so lucky?
The doctors had explained to her that the quick response had been a good thing. That he would make a decent recovery because of it. He had explained the terrible complications that could arise from a long delay. At the phrase ‘dying bone’ she had made her decision. She had no choice. It was time to come home, whether she wanted to or not.
Which was why she was doing this job she now hated in the first place.
‘Earth to Joanna.’ That was enough to snap her out of her reverie and back to her father. No one called her Joanna, apart from to get her attention. Or to give her a telling off.
‘What?’
‘You were miles away. Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘It’s just work.’
‘Give it a chance. It’s only been a couple of weeks. All jobs feel horrible for the first month or so.’
‘I hope not. I’d like the horrible to be over with sooner than that.’
‘In that case, think of the money.’ He gave her a wicked grin and she smiled. She was, indeed, thinking of the money. Her home town now was powered by tourism, not much more. Jobs outside the industry were few and far between. The council had seem
ed like the best option. With that came a health and safety job she wangled her way into because of a stellar interview, a lightly fluffed CV that maybe over-stretched some of her previous experience in the area, and a complete lack of competition.
Now she knew why the competition had been so light on the ground. She had come to the realisation that her profession was second only to traffic wardens in the antagonistic response they provoked within the general public.
The money was good and it meant she could stay here and look after her father, without losing too much of her previous life. The mortgage on her own place still needed to be paid and the rent she was getting for it at the moment didn’t quite break even. ‘Well paid’ was relative. Being the official destroyer of hopes and dreams might be well paid for the area, but it was certainly a step down from where she had been.
Official destroyer of hopes and dreams. She decided that sounded a better title anyway. It wasn’t like she still had any friends here. When she walked through the streets, she could see how much things had changed. Or perhaps they hadn’t changed, but she certainly had. Small town, small minds, small ambitions. That was how it felt.
She was never getting laid again.
‘So what happened today that’s put you in this mood?’ Her father raised his tea cup without the merest hint of a tremor. His top half was still good. Still him.
‘Site visit.’
‘I would have thought that would be nice. Get you out of the office a bit. Into the fresh air.’
‘That’s what I thought until I got there.’
‘Oh?’
‘Let’s just say, I had to do something that made me a bit unpopular.’
‘I’m sorry, Love. I hate to say it, but I think that’s going to be a part of the job. Nobody likes to be unpopular, but it’s not like you’re being nasty out of choice. You’re just doing your work.’
‘I know. That’s what I told myself.’
‘Doesn’t feel like it?’