by NC Marshall
*
I arrive home and hurriedly jump into the shower to start getting ready for this afternoon. I want to try to leave as early as possible. My interview isn’t until two, but I know that it will take me at least half an hour to get into the city, and I don’t want to heighten my already raging nerves by arriving late.
After my shower, I dry my hair and then start to apply my makeup while practicing answers to some of the questions that I am likely to be asked in the interview. Once my makeup is on, I change into a plain black trouser suit and a cream lace blouse with short sleeves. I put on my jacket and reluctantly pick out a pair of black heels, which, to be fair, are possibly a bit too high, but they make me look tall, which I feel might give me a little more confidence.
Once I finish getting dressed, I stand in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom and study the reflection that stares back at me. My dark blonde hair has lightened quite considerably; probably due to all those sunny park outings that I spent with Josh over the school summer holidays. I still have a slight tan from our family holiday in Santorini back in August, which gives my face a healthy glow and makes me look slightly younger than my thirty-five years. My hair lies on my shoulders in a natural wave, and my large eyes are a deep hazel; a constant and painful reminder of the girl who used to be my sister. My eyes start once again to fill with tears as I reach for a tissue and dab fiercely at them so that my makeup doesn’t get ruined.
Jess had only been twenty-nine when she died. There had been a five year age gap between us, but the resemblance confirmed us as sisters. Jess had poker-straight golden blonde hair which had hung way down past her shoulders. I’d always kept my hair cropped much shorter, and it was a naturally deeper shade of blonde. We were both petite, but Jess had been a few inches taller than me in height and had a much more slender body than my own. However, our mannerisms and facial features, our eyes in particular, were a dead giveaway to the fact that we were related.
I shrug off those thoughts as I don’t want to get worked up. I have an interview in a little over an hour, and I need to stay focused. I want this job, and feel that if I keep a level head and try to boost up my self-confidence levels, I have as good a shot as the next person. I grab my handbag and steady myself on my heels against the wooden floors as I head downstairs and down the hallway, then out into the mild September air.
*
I keep the car radio on as loud as I can bear all the way to the city centre. I tap to the beat of the music on the steering wheel while singing along to the songs, hoping it will help keep my mind off the fast approaching interview and push me to relax a little. I can feel my stomach churning as I get closer to the city, closer to the now virtually inevitable. I start to question what the hell I think I’m doing, and then immediately scold myself for the self-doubt.
The traffic is surprisingly light considering the time of day, so the trip doesn’t take long, and I luckily manage to find a parking space close to where I need to be. After climbing out of the car and paying for a ticket, I grab my handbag from the back seat along with a leather bound folder and notepad, which I bury under my arm in an attempt to look as professional as I can.
I head towards the main business sector of the city where the company is based, and take a shortcut down a narrow cobbled alleyway. I pass a small cafe that Jess and I used to visit regularly. There’s a brief pang of jealousy while looking at the women sitting inside, loosening up and chatting lazily amongst themselves. They’re most likely sharing private jokes and exchanging juicy gossip as we had once done. I tear away my stare, bow my head towards the pavement and carry on walking towards the tallest office block directly ahead.
The sky is becoming very dark as I approach the massive glass doors of Wallis and Spoors Marketing, a stark difference to the bright sun and cloudless blue sky from only a few hours before. This morning’s weather report had said heavy rain storms were heading our way, and I am only now starting to trust the prognosis. I can see the reflection of the looming grey clouds behind me in the glass panels as I swing open the heavy door. After stealing a quick glance at my watch, I head over to the large reception desk; it’s nearly one-forty. Perfect, that should give me time to find where I need to go, and try to train myself how to breathe like a normal human being again before the interview begins.
At the desk, I am greeted by a miserable-looking receptionist. I catch her attention and flash my most brilliant smile.
“Hello, my name is Natalie Parker. I’m here for an interview with Mr Wallis at two o’clock,” I say in a hopefully confident tone, not allowing the smile leave my face.
The receptionist doesn’t even bother looking up from a state-of-the-art flat screen monitor in front of her.
“Seventh floor in waiting room number two,” she responds uninterested. At the same time, she stands and turns towards a metal filing cabinet, then hands me a pen and visitor note. I fill in my details with a slightly shaky hand, and she provides me with a pass holder and lanyard to put around my neck. This clearly states that I am a visitor, and therefore makes me feel even more out of place than I already do.
“Thank you so much for your help,” I answer, in an overly sarcastic tone that I can’t resist. The telephone rings and she turns away to answer it, not even managing to give me a second glance. That was a superb first impression, I think to myself as I turn and head towards the lifts situated at the opposite side of a massive expanse of gleaming marble floor.
I sit in the waiting room, fidgeting like crazy. I can’t seem to stay still, and my heart is racing at an abnormal level. I can sense myself getting hot as my nerves increase. Irritated, I tug at the collar of my blouse and try to steady my rapidly tapping foot. Come on, Nat, pull yourself together. The room is as strikingly modern as the rest of the building's interior, with gleaming floors and plush chrome furniture facing massive floor to ceiling windows which look out over the bustling city below. I spot a small coffee machine standing in the corner and notice I still have fifteen minutes to spare, enough time to throw back a quick coffee, I’m sure.
As I sit back down with what is described on the machine menu as a Luxury Latte, the door opens and a young girl who seems far too proficient for her years enters the room. I take a quick sip from the polystyrene cup and burn my tongue on the still-scalding coffee.
“Hi, Mrs Parker,” the girl beams through perfectly painted bright pink lips at me, revealing a set of blinding white teeth. Her platinum blonde hair hangs down to her tiny waist, and her huge boobs are surely not real. She has a deep tan, which suggests she has either just returned from a long holiday somewhere tropical or she’s a regular at the tanning salon. She is built like a model and her long legs seem to go on for all eternity. She resembles a life-size Barbie doll.
“Mr Wallis is ready to see you now,” she declares with poise. I look downwards at my still steaming cup of coffee, quickly regretting my last minute decision. The girl follows my gaze and seems to tap into my thoughts.
“Oh, just take it with you,” she grins, “Mr Wallis is pretty laid back, he won’t mind in the slightest.”
We walk along a corridor and reach the end, where the girl knocks on a solid polished wooden door before entering the room. I follow her sheepishly into the office, to be greeted by a man that could intimidate even the most self-assured among us. He is tall, at a guess I would say about six-foot three. He is in good shape, with broad shoulders. His mousy brown hair is greying slightly. He looks in his early sixties, and holds himself in a posture that just screams out to the world that he knows what he is doing and doesn’t give a damn what anybody thinks of him. I am saddened a little as I realise that on first appearance, he reminds me of my dad.
Mr Wallis smiles at me. His dark brown eyes look friendly and kind, yet another resemblance to my late father. He stands from behind his large, meticulously organised desk, and introduces himself as Richard, holding out his hand towards me. I move forward to shake it, but my legs buckle in my stupid high s
hoes. I stumble forwards, making my coffee spill over the lid and straight onto his beautifully tailored suit.
“Oh my God,” I let out an involuntary squeal in a pitch so high that I’m sure even the most unintelligent of dogs can interpret. “Mr Wallis, I am so sorry.”
The blood is rushing to my cheeks, and I want to have the ability to flick on a switch that will turn me invisible to the naked eye. Richard waves off my apology and calmly takes off his now stained jacket. He hands it to the beautiful young girl who leaves the room quickly, but not before glancing at me and smirking slightly before closing the door behind her. I sit down opposite Richard, take a deep breath of air, and prepare myself for what is sure to be the worst interview I have ever had to face.
Chapter 2
My day has continued to worsen. I didn’t think that could be possible, though evidently, it is. The interview had been dreadful from the beginning, as I had expected. I’d stuttered my way through my words, straining desperately to convince Richard that my previous experience and expertise was what he needed in a PA. I had calmed down immensely by the end, and even managed to get some good points across, but I felt that this was too little too late.
Richard had reassured me throughout, and I felt more human as the interview came to a slightly abrupt close. The questioning had ceased after an hour, and I safely managed to leave the office without any further self-humiliation. Richard had informed me that he was interviewing over the next couple of days for the post, and I would hear by the end of the week if I had been successful in securing the position. Maybe a profession as a full-time mum is just my destiny.
I run back to the car as it’s now raining very heavily, and I am soaked through by the time I reach it. I settle into the driver’s seat, still dripping wet, and call Dan at work. I briefly explain how the interview went, not particularly wanting to go into detail, and make sure he is able to pick up Josh from school. I have a feeling I'll be a while getting home if this rain continues. Dan tells me not to worry, he can finish work ahead of time, everything is under control, and he will see me shortly. I put down my phone and tune the radio to another station before starting the car and hitting the drive home.
Almost two hours and three traffic diversions later, I arrive home. There had been flooding almost everywhere, and I could see the panic starting to set in on the busy roads. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief as I walk through my front door and gladly close it tightly behind me, shutting out both the terrible weather and day that I’d had.
The table lamps are on throughout the house, as the miserable weather outside has the sky pitch black. The house feels warm and snug. An incredible smell of cooking food wafts through the hall as I take off my jacket and shoes, dumping them with my handbag at the bottom of the stairs. I pass the living room, popping my head in where Josh sits far too close to our already massive TV, fixated on some farmyard based cartoon. He is sipping away at a bowl of pink strawberry ice cream. He doesn’t even acknowledge my presence when I say hello, happy in his own little carefree world.
Dan is in the kitchen preparing what looks like a gorgeous meal. My belly gurgles as I realise I am famished. I hadn’t eaten any breakfast this morning as I couldn’t stomach it and lunch had slipped my mind. Dan looks up from the gas hob, smiling as he notices me.
“Hey you,” he says in a faintly sympathetic tone, as he quickly moves to the glass-fronted wine cooler and produces a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio. He presents it to me as if we were in a restaurant; a folded white tea towel slung casually over his arm. I smile and nod back to him gratefully. I have already told him the basics of the day, and I think that he can likely pick up from my drowned rat status that I’m not in a particularly chatty mood at the moment. I seat myself heavily on a dining room chair. Dan puts a large glass of wine on the table in front of me, which I retrieve as it barely makes contact with the surface of the table. I take a sip; it tastes dry and has a crisp, citrus flavour. He gives me a kiss on the cheek and squeezes my shoulders tightly before he returns to the oven, and I shake my head and chuckle at just how bad a day I have had.
Dan dishes out dinner soon after, and I polish off the whole lot along with another large glass of wine, while filling him in on the events of my day. I’m starting to relax a little as he puts Josh to bed and prepares me a hot bubble bath. He tells me that tomorrow is another day, and everything will seem a lot better in the morning. He always knows exactly what to say to cheer me up, and is generally right with his assumptions.
The bath is divine, and the sweet smell of lavender scented oils clears my head and soothes me. The bubbles are nearly spilling over the lip of the tub, but the hot water feels wonderful as it covers my still incredibly tense shoulders.
My mind wanders to how Jess would have acted in an interview like the one I had today. She had been so tenacious, knowing what she wanted and how she would get it. She had always been an assertive character, but never in a bad way. She had a presence when she entered a room, it wasn’t uncommon for complete strangers to feel a natural pull towards her, curious to know more. Sometimes I wish I was more like that. My lack of confidence and insecurities have always been my downfall, and I have a feeling that this will lead to a decline on the job front today. Jess would have been offered the job instantly.
I can hear Dan downstairs talking on his mobile, his gentle yet authoritative voice flowing through the hall and up the steps. Although he tries to escape work when he is at home, sometimes it just isn’t that easy. Even though it’s now quite late in the evening, and he is still dealing with business, it never appears to faze him. He takes it all in his stride, and apart from the odd stressful occasion he remains incredibly laid back. This sort of outlook has propelled him upwards over the years, and he is now a senior partner at a reputable law firm. He is fantastic at his job. He has earned so much respect from all his work colleagues and is held in high regard by the company. He is highly recommended and always gets good results for his clients. He works hard, too hard, I sometimes fear. I have to admit next to him I feel inferior when looking back at my own career, although he would hate me for thinking this way about myself.
Dan and I had met through work. I decided after finishing college to skip university and headed straight into full-time employment. I was independent, and wanted to become self-sufficient; not have to rely on anyone other than myself. I wanted nothing more than to move away from the sleepy lakeside town I grew up in, and start a new adventure in the big bright city.
I had rented a modest one bedroom flat in a rather dodgy part of town, to say the least. It was based above a launderette. If I close my eyes now, I can still remember the smell of the detergent they used in the machines, and how it would take over the whole building. I always find it intriguing that a smell can be the link to so many memories.
I soon secured a permanent job working as a waitress in a local Spanish tapas restaurant not far from where I lived. The hours were terrible, and the pay not much better, but I’d hoped it was just a starting point. Admittedly, it was a real struggle at first and I worried my parents sick, but I loved the city so much there was no way I would have allowed myself to fail.
Life in the city was so different to what I had grown up knowing, and although I loved my hometown, I knew instantly that I would never return there to live. My dad had offered to help me out with money, knowing that I was having a difficult time, but I politely refused. He was hoping to retire early. I couldn’t take a penny off him. He and Mum had worked hard for their future together, and I didn’t want to be any hindrance to that.
I started work as a secretary at a law firm at the age of twenty-four, and I thought all my blessings had come at once. It was a far cry from the jobs I had been performing until that stage, and I felt that I had found an occupation that suited me well.
Daniel Parker was an up and coming young business lawyer, and my boss. Even back then, at his young age of twenty-seven, he showed immense promise and I knew he would go far. What I did
n’t predict was that we would fall head over heels in love, go on to be married and have a happy future in the years ahead of us.
I worked for Dan for another year after our relationship started. However, the cliché of the boss and secretary having a ‘fling’ didn’t really suit, and I got fed up with the stares and gossip throughout the office. Our relationship was far more than that, and I didn’t feel that I should have to answer to anyone in the way I felt I was being made to. I soon left the law firm, making it easier for Dan and me to continue on with our private lives together. Over ten years later, here we are, happily married with a son. I honestly wouldn't change a moment of it.
I climb out of the bath, its temperature now only tepid and slip into a cosy short nightdress, warmed from hanging near the bathroom radiator. Even wearing this, I still feel cold, and shiver slightly as I go into the bedroom. I close the blinds, shuddering as I look out the window at the rain that hasn’t seemed to ease in its force. I sit on the bed, propping my feet up and search for the TV remote, which has slipped under the bed covers.
Turning on the flat screen television positioned on the wall in front of me, I half-heartedly flick through the numerous channels before finally deciding on a re-run of a comedy show I have probably seen a thousand times before. The bedclothes beneath me are warm and fresh. I shuffle further down the bed and rest my head on the fluffy pillows, pulling the heavy duvet up to my chin and relaxing further. Thoughts of the day flash through my mind as I feel my eyes getting heavy. The sound from the television becomes distant, before eventually disappearing altogether. Then, once again, like so many times before, the dream returns.
Chapter 3
The cold is always the first thing that I feel. It’s the type of cold that lies deep in your bones, and you know that no amount of heat will ever disperse it. My heart beats rapidly and I am instantly terrified, frozen to the spot on which I stand. This is the first sign, clearly indicating that I have now left my mortal body and I’m once again seeing the world through my sister’s eyes, on the last night she spent on this earth.