Soul Protector (Soul Protector Series)

by Amanda Leigh Cowley

  I grabbed my drink off the drip tray and hit the hot chocolate button – a peace offering for Arthur, just in case.

  I made my way gingerly back to our work area and plonked Arthur’s mug on his desk, but he didn’t even acknowledge it.

  “What’s up?” I could hear a nervous wobble in my voice.

  Arthur threw the latest copy of our magazine, Elevate, onto his desk. I could see he was breathing faster than normal as his fingers expertly flicked through the pages, stopping when he found what he was looking for.

  “This,” he hissed, tapping his fingers on an article.

  I twisted my head round so that I was at the right angle, and read the headline. My eyes opened wider as the reason for his agitation clicked into place. For a couple of minutes I couldn’t speak. I chewed my lip as I carried on reading.

  “It’s your article,” Arthur spat, “the one Donald supposedly said wasn’t fit to print.”

  “They must have changed it,” I said. “Somebody else must have done it.” It was the only logical explanation I could think of.

  “No.” Arthur was adamant. I saw his pulse beating away in his temples. “It’s definitely all yours.”

  I had no idea if it was my original or not. As I read through it, it certainly fitted the ‘memory’ I had of writing it, but I couldn’t be sure. I’d been too busy switching bodies at the time.

  “How do you know it’s definitely all my work?”

  “Because Donald said he loved it. He was moaning that everything else had been submitted late, and this was the only one that came through in plenty of time. It must have been yours.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense, why would he tell Camille it was rubbish?”

  Arthur took off his glasses and looked at me.

  “He didn’t. I heard whispers yesterday that the report he didn’t like was one that Camille had done herself. But she covered her ass and told him it was yours. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I decided I’d wait to see the finished magazine today for proof.

  As I listened and digested the information, I felt anger begin to surge through me. It radiated from my brain and reached all the way to my fingertips. How dare she pass off her mistakes as mine? I narrowed my eyes as I watched her through the glass in her office, laughing away to someone on the phone. Did she really think I wasn’t going to find out? What planet was she from?

  “Gracie, don’t do anything in the heat of the moment. She’s well out of order I know, but you need to think carefully about what you do next. No knee-jerk reactions okay?”

  I unfurled my fingers.

  “Don’t worry Arthur, I can’t stay here.”

  “But aren’t you going to tell Donald? Once he finds out, I’m sure the promotion will be yours.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, I can’t think straight. The only thing I am sure of is that I need to get out of here.”

  Arthur stood frowning as I grabbed my coat, slung my bag over my shoulder and stormed out the office. The last thing I heard was his worried voice calling after me, “Take care love. Ring me if you need me.”

  The lift was going to be too slow for me, so I raced down the stairs, the exertion helping to disperse the angry adrenaline pumping through my veins. As I entered reception, Nisha looked up. She opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again on seeing my expression. Wise move Nisha. I was in no mood for an interrogation.

  I threw open the glass door and walked out into the sunshine. As I marched to my car, I sucked in deep breaths of fresh air and by the time I reached my Corsa, I felt a fraction calmer. I flopped into the driver seat, still breathing heavily, and hesitated before putting my key in the ignition. I had no idea what I was going to do. I knew I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to speak to someone so I could rant about how unfair everything was and get rid of the tension.

  I thought through my options; Dan’s name popped into my head first and I quickly erased it. Mum and Kerry were the two people I usually turned to in a crisis, but I knew Mum would be with a client, and Kerry would be busy in the salon. I knew better than to call Lydia, she was busy dealing with her own insecurities. I thought about calling Michelle. I pulled my phone out and my fingers hovered over the numbers, but then I quickly dismissed the idea and shoved my phone back in my bag.

  I decided I ought to do something practical instead, to distract me. I reversed out of the parking space and turned the car in the direction of the local Tesco Express. While I was driving, another thought struck me. How was I going to pay for food if I quit my job? I desperately wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. Not immediately anyway. I was held hostage by rent and bills.

  ~

  By Friday morning I knew what I had to do. I breezed into reception late, and Nisha made a huge point of staring at her watch. She drew in a sharp breath before speaking. “Gracie, you are really pushing your luck. Camille’s gonna freak.”

  “Not as much as when she hears what I’ve got to say,” I replied, winking at her.

  “Why, what are you going to tell her?” she called out, but I was already stepping into the lift.

  I got out on the second floor, and walked through the familiar open plan area. I smiled at Arthur and Sean, but didn’t stop to talk to them. I didn’t even hesitate outside Camille’s office. I walked straight in without knocking and shut the door behind me.

  She looked up and scowled, the phone attached to her ear. She flicked her eyes furiously towards the door, indicating I should leave.

  I stood my ground.

  She narrowed her eyes, and adjusted her position, sitting up straight.

  “Janie, I’m going to have to go. Someone’s just barged into my office.” She banged the phone into its cradle and glared at me.

  “Good morning, Camille.”

  “Err, what time do you call this?” she asked, thrusting her watch-adorned wrist in my direction.

  I ignored the watch, and held her gaze.

  “And what the hell do you think you’re doing coming into my office uninvited. I was on an important call.”

  “I’m here to hand in my notice,” I said calmly.

  Her scowl gave way as her jaw dropped.

  “What? Why would you do that? Have you got another job?

  “I just know I can’t work here anymore,” I said, smiling politely.

  “Are you mad? This is a good job for you, Gracie. You can’t just up and leave.”

  “Watch me. And this is not a good job for me, Camille. I’m fed up running round doing all your errands instead of getting my teeth into proper work.

  “Not that many errands,” she defended.

  I raised an eyebrow and carried on. “That’s not all, Camille. What about blaming me for your mistakes?”

  Her mouth flapped open and closed and her cheeks flushed with colour.

  “What mistakes? What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. The report you submitted and then blamed on me when Donald pulled it. The one that cost me a promotion.”

  She sat still for a moment. Her lips were squeezed tight and her brow was creased. I couldn’t tell if she was angry or upset.

  “It was a misunderstanding, Gracie. I thought it was your report, I didn’t find out until later it was mine.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me when you found out.”

  She sniffed and I was surprised to see a tear roll down her cheek, leaving a pale track through the thick foundation.

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe it was a misunderstanding, Camille. It’s the only feature you’ve ever submitted, so you can’t have forgotten you did it.”

  She blew out a deep breath, and wiped the tear away, leaving a black smudges around her eye.

  “Gracie, you can’t leave. I need you here.”

  I stood silent, waiting for her to carry on. She indicated for me to sit down, but I ignored the gesture. Then she took a deep sigh, and spoke so quietly I had to strain
to hear her.

  “Okay, you’re right. I did know the report was mine. Uncle Don needed a feature the day you were off sick. I’m rubbish at writing, but I had no one else to delegate to, so I did it myself and handed it in. I was already panicking about you getting the writer position, so when Don went mad that day, I saw the ideal opportunity. I blamed you.”

  I shook my head as I listened.

  “I know I was wrong, but the truth is I need you here to help me survive my job.”

  With every word she spoke, I felt myself tensing further. I placed both palms on the mahogany desk and leaned forward, towards her. With great effort, I managed to keep my voice level.

  “Do you know how hard I’ve worked? I’ve slogged away for hours, meeting every deadline and picking up the slack from you, in order to get that job. It meant everything to me, and you’ve screwed it all up by lying. I didn’t think even you could sink that low, Camille.”

  Her lips were trembling. After I finished my rant, she pulled a tissue out of the flowery box on her desk and gave her nose a delicate blow. She dropped the tissue in her bin, and looked up, meeting my glare straight on.

  “I’m sorry, Gracie. Listen, please don’t jack it all in just because I’ve done something wrong. Tell me what I need to do to make this right. I’ll do anything.”

  I was hoping she’d ask that. I’d already planned what was going to happen next.

  “Okay, there is something you can do. You can go into Donald’s office right now and tell him the truth.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Everything? I can’t do that. He might fire me.”

  “And he might not. It is the right thing to do.”

  She sat looking at her desk for a moment, before meeting my eye and sighing. “Okay, I’ll do it… but after lunch. I need to think exactly how I’m going to tell him.”

  “No, Camille. Do it now, or I’m telling him myself.”

  For a moment I thought she was going to cry again, but she set her jaw, nodded at me and wheeled her chair backwards to stand up.

  I stepped back to let her pass, and then followed her out the office. When I didn’t turn off towards my desk, she stopped in her tracks.

  “Err, Gracie, you don’t need to come as well.”

  “Yes, I think I do. Are you going to knock, or shall I?”

  She gave me a look of disbelief, shook her head and rapped on Donald’s door.

  His voice boomed out, “Come in.”

  Camille cleared her throat and I followed her into the dark room. Donald always pulled the blinds until they were virtually closed, preferring to work under the glare of a small desk lamp instead of natural daylight. I noted the usual smell of cigar permeating the air. I wasn’t sure if he had crafty smokes in the office, or the smell just lingered on his clothes, but whatever he did, the aroma was ever-present.

  Never a man to give his time freely, Donald took a deep sigh to let us know we were hindering him as he peered up over the top of his metal-rim glasses. His expression changed quickly from one of irritation to surprise.

  “Good grief Camille, what on earth is the matter with you?”

  I’d neglected to tell her about the make-up smudged down her face.

  She looked at me and raised her eyebrows, as if requesting an eleventh hour reprieve. I couldn’t help feel sorry for her but I knew I had to stay strong.

  Donald looked from Camille to me. The silence that followed was deafening. I decided to give her a gentle nudge in the right direction.

  “Camille needs to tell you something. It’s about the report you pulled the other day.”

  Donald fixed his gaze on Camille, who remained silent.

  “Well come on, spit it out girl. I haven’t got all day.”

  She swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. “Remember the report you hated the other day?”

  “I’m trying to forget it.”

  “Well, Gracie didn’t write it. I did.”

  I watched as he put down the paperwork he’d been holding, took his glasses off and placed them neatly on top. His movements were calm and steady, but as he looked back towards us, I saw a tell-tale vein bulging in his temple.

  “So whatever possessed you to say it was Gracie’s?”

  She looked at me briefly and blew out a shaky breath.

  “Because I was ashamed. I didn’t want to take the blame, and I didn’t want Gracie to get the writer job.”

  Donald’s eyes grew wider and his lips went thin.

  “That, Camille, is unforgiveable. I had Gracie lined up for that job as you well know.”

  “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m really sorry.”

  “Not good enough.”

  He placed his head in his hands, and massaged his temples with his thumbs. Camille and I stood watching him in silence. After a while he dropped his hands and made eye contact with me.

  “Gracie, I owe you an apology. I knew I should have given you the supervisor job all those months ago, not Camille.”

  My mouth dropped in surprise. I didn’t know I’d been shortlisted for supervisor.

  Donald sat silent for a minute, tapping his fingers on his paperwork, before looking up at us.

  “Camille, I’m too angry with you right now. I need to calm down first, so I’ll deal with you later. Gracie, the supervisor job is yours if you want it, unless you’d like to be considered for the next writer job that comes up.”

  Camille looked like she’d just been punched in the stomach. Her head turned as she waited for my answer. I was still feeling sorry for her but I forced myself to remember, she was the one who had been out of order, not me.

  I looked away from her and focussed on Donald.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m handing in my notice with immediate effect. I’ve got another job lined up.” I had my fingers crossed behind my back.

  Donald sat up straighter. “For another magazine?”

  “No,” I said, smiling. “I’m having a career change. I’d like to tell you more, but it’s on a need-to-know basis.”

  Both Donald and Camille screwed up their faces as they took in my statement.

  “I’m finished here right now, and in order for this not to go to a tribunal, I’d like to be paid for the rest of the month. Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t need a reference. Goodbye.”

  I turned on my heel and marched out the office. I felt truly alive again for the first time in ages.

  As I walked through the open-plan area, I saw Arthur sitting at his desk wearing a puzzled frown. He got up and hurried over to walk with me as I carried on towards the lift area.

  “What’s happening love?” he asked, looking concerned.

  “I’ve just quit and dropped Camille in at the same time.”

  “Bloody hell.” He tilted his head to one side. “Would you mind telling me who you are and what you’ve done with the real Gracie Reynolds.”

  I laughed. “Camille’s had that coming for a long time. I can’t believe I’ve been her doormat for so long.”

  He smiled and squeezed my shoulder.

  “Well good for you, it’s about time someone put her in her place.”

  His eyes lingered on my face and I saw his smile drop.

  “I’m really going to miss you though, love.”

  I leaned in to give him a hug. “I know. I’m going to miss you too.”

  As I hugged him I felt genuine sadness at the thought of not seeing him every day.

  He released me and chuckled to himself. “Do you think I should wait awhile before reminding them I’m up for retirement this year?”

  “Yeah, maybe now’s not quite the right time.”

  A groaning noise announced the arrival of the lift and the doors screeched open, inviting me in.

  “Bye, Gracie, you stay in touch love,” he said, patting me on the back.

  “I will, I promise.”

  I breezed back out through Reception. Nisha was away from the desk, and she was going to be fuming when
she realised she’d missed my grand exit. As I walked out into the sunshine a great big smile plastered itself onto my face.

  CHAPTER 18

  .

  Sisters

  .

  After the initial euphoria faded, I had a wobble, wondering if quitting my job had been the right thing to do. Sure Camille had stitched me up, but then Donald had offered me a promotion on the spot and I’d chucked it back in his face. I couldn’t believe I’d been so reckless. I had rent and bills to pay and ditching my job in a fit of temper was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Still, it was too late to go crawling back.

  I was sat on the sofa googling writing jobs on my laptop, when the intercom buzzed. I plopped the computer down on a cushion, and made my way over.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi Gracie, it’s me, Michelle. Can you please let me in?”

  I took a deep breath and pushed the release button. I walked across to open the door, crossed my arms and waited for her to make it up the stairs.

  “Hi, how are you?” she asked. She was wearing a knitted dress, black leggings and a nervous smile.

  I heaved a sigh. “Hello, Michelle. Come in.”

  We walked through to the living room and she looked grateful when I offered coffee.

  I reappeared with the mugs, and saw she’d made herself at home. She was curled up on the sofa, cocooned by several cushions, studying my laptop.

  “Hey, are you looking for a new job?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the screen.

  “Yeah, well, I’m sort of in-between positions at the moment,” I said, putting the mugs down on the side-table and taking the laptop out of her hands.

  “Really? Mum told me you were holding out for a promotion at Elevate.”

  “I was. Someone else got it.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, and raised her hand awkwardly to rub my arm.

  God, what sort of a monster am I? My own sister scared to touch me.

  “So have you found anything you want to apply for?” she asked, forcing an air of breeziness.

  I shook my head. “There aren’t any decent writer jobs out there, not without proper qualifications anyway. I saw some freelance work, but I don’t think I’d make enough to pay the rent on this place.”