Break Out The Bubbly

by Rick Adams

  The thud sounded sickening though, and I turned away with tears of guilt and sorrow, blinking through them to see Leafy Hollow glance up casually from his computer.

  ‘Took the direct route, then, did she?’

  ‘I’ll get you for this,’ I said standing up, ‘you may have no conscience but the world does. What goes around comes around, Adrian, and by God you’ll get yours.’

  ‘Ah, the just-world hypothesis,’ he laughed as the door opened and Marvilyn walked in with our tea, ‘poetic justice, that sort of thing, eh? Well, some day I must read one of those trendy books you women are so fond of at the moment, just to learn a bit more about this wonderful planet on which we all share our lives together.’

  I swore through my teeth and turned on my heel smashing straight into Marvilyn and sending the tray and its contents flooding across the room.

  Tea stained my entire uniform and I swore in disgust again.

  ‘Got to give it to the place for its sense of humour though,’ Leafy Hollow laughed after me, ‘never a dull moment in this theatre of cruelty. Marvilyn, clear up the mess first, then come and have a look at these disappointing sales figures of yours, will you?’

  All I heard as I ran from the room was, ‘My lord.’

  Chapter 4

  THE BENCH

  Why were men so horrid?

  As I raced back down the stairs and out of the shop to discover whether or not my colleague had survived her fall, that was the question which attacked my mind.

  How could they have no feeling, no empathy, no sensitivity, no compassion?

  All my boyfriends had lacked the ability to think themselves into my shoes, and daily communication had without exception developed from satisfactory to bloody useless by the end of our relationships.

  My contemplation on this point however stopped abruptly when I saw Matthew tending to Sarah where she lay on the floor.

  Alive.

  ‘My God,’ I said running over, ‘you’re alright.’

  ‘She’s broken her left leg,’ he said stopping me from approaching nearer, ‘and her right arm’s twisted. I’ve called for an ambulance. It’ll be here soon.’

  ‘But she’s alright. She’s going to be okay?’

  ‘I don’t know Emily, I can’t get her to speak.’

  I rushed forward. ‘Is she breathing?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but she’s not talking.’

  ‘Sarah,’ I said looking past him, ‘Sarah, it’s me, Emily.’

  But she wasn’t able to answer, I mean she could hardly move at all.

  As fresh feelings of guilt swept over my soul rolling it upside down and inside out, I heard the sound of sirens and the ambulance turned into our dead-end road rushing towards us.

  I was incapable of action, but Matthew seemed to know exactly what to do and say - he answered all the paramedics’ questions and was thanked by them for the brief care he’d afforded Sarah before they got there.

  And then she was off, on a stretcher into the back of the van before it whizzed away at break neck speed to the hospital a few streets down from where we were left standing still shocked and utterly ashen-faced.

  Matthew ushered me to the bench on which I often sat to eat my lunch.

  ‘You could do with an explanation, I’m sure?’ he said simply.

  I nodded.

  ‘I’m training to be a doctor,’ he said then fell silent.

  ‘That’s not an explanation, Matthew.’

  ‘But I thought you might be wondering how I was able to diagnose her condition,’ he protested, that look of hurt returning, ‘the injuries she’s sustained.’

  ‘And I thought you might be going to tell me how you knew Carol.’

  ‘Oh, she’s a childhood friend of my mother’s, we’ve known her for years.’

  ‘So why have you suddenly come to work in her, all-female shop?’

  ‘It’s a favour.’

  ‘For who?’

  ‘My mother.’

  ‘Why? It makes no sense. Carol doesn’t employ men. End of.’

  ‘But we know her, Emily, she’s a friend of the family.’

  ‘So how come she’s never mentioned you before then?’

  He looked vacantly at me.

  ‘I need to know what on earth is going on, Matthew. I’ve never seen Carol like that. Nor Tabatha. And I’ve never seen Ginger rendered speechless by fear, ever.’ I stared desperately at him. ‘Why are you here at all?’

  He pointed to my left.

  I looked in that direction.

  Tabatha was approaching.

  When I looked back again, Matthew was heading off quickly for Sheila’s.

  For some reason, levity not gravity took hold of my mood.

  ‘You won’t get away that easily,’ I called after him, ‘we’ll meet again.’

  ‘How about this evening?’ he cried in return, ‘outside the shop, seven pm?’

  ‘It’s a date’ I giggled before realising I was arranging my love life across the road in a public thoroughfare.

  I turned away crimson-faced, that feeling of warmth flowing once more through my whole body, life, love, sowing the sapling and seedlings of both.

  And then his reply, ‘I hope so,’ bringing forth shoots, stems, bark and full-sized tree in the hopes and dreams of my mind where imagination meets reality and the gap between expectation and result binds firmly together in the infancy of love’s munificence.

  ‘He’s a good lad,’ confirmed Tabatha beside me, ‘it was fortunate we had him in the room just now.’

  ‘So you know him too?’ I said, pleased to be dealing with the pleasant side of my Assistant Manager at this juncture.

  ‘I haven’t seen him since he was a boy,’ she said sitting down, ‘but he’s certainly maturing into a fine young man. Watch out for his mother though, she’s a veritable dragon!’

  We both laughed before Tabatha fell serious. ‘Did you find Sarah?’

  ‘She jumped out of Leafy Hollow’s office window.’

  ‘Dear God. Is she alright?’

  ‘Matthew got the medics here. She’s got a broken leg and a fractured arm by the looks of it.’ I studied her. ‘Why did you tell me not to let her out of my sight? You and Matthew both.’

  ‘You’re better off not knowing, Emily.’

  ‘Tabatha.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be getting back to work? Carol’s opened the shop again. Look.’

  I glanced over at Sheila’s, dreading the thought of returning there, ‘What’s wrong with her?’ I asked in earnest, ‘is she going to be alright?’

  ‘She’s just worried about the thefts,’ said Tabatha gently, ‘no one likes having things taken from them, especially right out from under their noses.’

  ‘Why was she accusing you?’

  ‘It’s a coping mechanism, Emily, that’s all. When times are tough, we often hit out at those nearest to us.’

  ‘But you’re not close,’ I choked loudly, ‘not in the least.’

  ‘Personally, no. But professionally, I’m her Deputy, she leans on me for support.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘It’s just…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The parallels,’ she blurted, then checked herself. ‘Forget I said anything, Emily, really it’s not worth it.’

  I stared levelly at her. ‘You owe it to Sarah to tell me.’

  She paused, opened her mouth to speak, then paused again. ‘Do you know if Carol’s been seeing anyone recently?’ she said at last.

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘not to my knowledge.’

  ‘Never mind then.’

  I eyed her suspiciously. ‘Tabatha.’

  She sighed. ‘Do you remember the thefts before?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Do you remember what was happening at the time?’

  ‘Same old. We were all enduring the perennial nightmare cycle of retail.’

  ‘Yes, but Carol was going through her break-up with David.’

  I shifted uncomfortably.

&
nbsp; Mention of him and her together did not sit well with my stomach.

  Or my conscience.

  ‘So?’

  Tabatha studied me. ‘There was a time before that also.’

  That surprised me. ‘Before I joined?’

  ‘When we first opened the store, the champagne went missing straightaway.’

  ‘And you never found out who nabbed it?’

  ‘It stopped. Just like last time. Just like I’m sure it will this time, and without resolution, unless we’re more canny and don’t leave anything to chance.’

  ‘Is that why CCTV’s been installed?’

  ‘Yes, but as usual Carol hasn’t thought ahead. The thief knows about it, because it’s an inside job. They’re always hooded or masked. It’s proving useless.’

  ‘Then someone needs to be in there,’ I suggested excitedly, ‘they need to hide in the next aisle and spy through the shelves. When the pilferer comes along, bam, they catch them red-handed.’

  ‘My plan exactly. Except I can’t do it. I’m out, remember?’ She leaned towards me. ‘It must be you, Emily, you’re the sleuth who’s going to crack this case, just like in one of those detective stories you so like to read.’

  ‘But I,’ I stammered, ‘I mean, well, I don’t know the first thing about snooping.’

  ‘And it must be tonight,’ she pressed, ‘this particular cycle must be halted, right now. Oh look,’ she said, switching subjects without a second thought whilst I was gulping with fear at the thought of spying on my own shop, ‘there’s the dragon.’

  I didn’t know what she meant at first, but then I looked up and gasped.

  It was the very same person who with cracked make-up and ill temper had been so obstructive when Tabatha had called me from the front till this morning.

  That woman!

  Matthew’s mother!

  Goodness me.

  I was only stopped from stupefying further when the other lady I had served this morning, the one who’d looked so serene, so calm and at peace with the world, got up from the bench next door to ours and made a beeline straight for the miserable woman who had been so unmerciful to my admittedly minor plight earlier that morning.

  When the two met right in the middle of the road, even Tabatha blanched from the direction their exchange quickly took.

  ‘Get out of my way,’ ordered the dragon.

  ‘Not until you apologise.’

  ‘Have you any idea how much you humiliated me just now?’ she barked at her. ‘I don’t take that kind of embarrassment lightly, you know.’

  ‘You don’t take anything lightly, that much is obvious.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, aside from bringing the house down over a harmless oversight in Adrian’s just now, when that poor girl at Sheila’s was called away from the front till this morning you couldn’t have made yourself more difficult.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘You don’t care, more like.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘But you didn’t help.’

  ‘Help!’ she exploded with complete incredulity, ‘she’s a shop hand.’

  ‘That’s my point.’

  ‘What point? What are you talking about, you silly little woman?’

  ‘Do you have your bracelet now?’

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve had to deal with you twice today.’

  ‘Do you have your bracelet?’

  Matthew’s mother felt her wrist and when she lifted her arm I could see the most revolting, tacky piece of bling hanging around her creased skin. ‘I do now,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Then you’re happy, I’m happy, and everyone at Sheila’s and Adrian’s is probably happy too. Job done and dusted.’ She made to move past but Matthew’s mother blocked her. ‘What do you want now?’

  ‘You wanted an apology from me. Now, I want one from you.’

  ‘But you haven’t said sorry.’

  ‘You first.’

  ‘Absolutely not. I’m sure you have enough ‘yes’ people in your life to offer you that kind of subservience every day.’

  And with that, she pushed past and headed towards Adrian’s whilst Tabatha and I sat agog on the bench staring with morbid fascination at the dragon.

  She was quick to recover, preened her feathers and stretched her wings, and with a flick of the tail and a snort of fire from her nostrils she took off hurrying back to whatever other cache of cheap jewellery she had guarded in some dark, dank cave somewhere, or so it seemed to me as I watched her huff and puff and leave town as quickly as she had arrived and accosted that kind old lady who I now knew was one tough old bird to boot.

  Yet once again I was left feeling despondent, because there it was again.

  Conflict.

  Had it always been this way?

  Had people forever been adversarial towards one another?

  Or had we just made it that way over the course of human history, through petty wrangling and sharp ignorance?

  My course tutor would have hated me for asking those questions, taking the state of the place as read and that then the starting point for investigation.

  But I liked to look deeper into things and discover their origin, like how the heck a nice, kind boy like Matthew could have such a ghastly, grotesque fire-breathing serpent for a mother!

  She was horrible, really combative.

  I determined to broach the subject with him later.

  On our date.

  Boy, this was turning out to be a strange day.

  ‘Emily,’ a voice said weakly beside me.

  I looked up.

  It was Ginger.

  My suspicions were aroused instantly.

  She never called me by my first name unless she was intent on inflicting maximum psychological damage.

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked coldly.

  ‘Can we talk?’ She looked at Tabatha. ‘Alone.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said our Deputy Manager, ‘I need to go to Adrian’s anyway.’

  ‘You’re coming back though?’

  ‘Yes, Emily,’ she smiled, ‘I shall be back. You won’t get rid of me that easily.’

  And with that, she was gone, straight into our competitor’s store with a veritable hop and skip as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Ginger looked at the bench. ‘Can I sit down?’

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  She was never this polite.

  I shrugged my shoulders and she sat, silent for long seconds.

  ‘Well?’ I asked acidly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  For the love of a God I didn’t believe in, I almost fell off backwards and forwards and on both sides of the bench so total was my astonishment.

  Whole millennia could have passed, and the universe grown dim with the coming and going of ice ages before those words would ever escape Ginger’s lips.

  And directed at me especially?

  Never.

  I studied my nemesis, but fresh warm-hearted love for her was quickly replaced with the cold-blooded cynicism that had infected my soul for so long when dealing with her lies and deceit.

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked again.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she pressed, ‘really.’

  I studied her.

  She certainly looked crestfallen, but I’d learnt from bitter experience that there were world-renowned actors and actresses with pavement stars dedicated to them in Hollywood who performed ham and cheese roles compared to the caviar of Ginger Starr’s efforts, at which point oscar nominations were quite hopeless because she easily beat all-comers hands down by pretending completely to be someone she wasn’t…

  ‘What do you want, Ginger?’ I asked, calmly this time.

  ‘Can’t I apologise to you, Emily?’

  ‘Since when did you start calling me by my first name?’

  ‘Please,’ she pressed, ‘accept my apology.’

  I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘W
hat for?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’

  ‘What have you done?’ I sighed, ‘why are you sorry?’

  ‘Well,’ she chuckled, and then curled her hair with her finger, ‘I suppose it’s you who’s sorry really. You see, well, I kind of, I mean I might have…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I might have, well I did…’

  ‘What, Ginger?’

  ‘He kissed me first.’

  I thought of the delivery driver with whom Ginger was always flirting.

  What the heck was she doing talking to me about him for, what did I care?

  ‘Good for you,’ I said turning away from her.

  ‘For me, yes,’ she replied, ‘but, well, not so good for you. You see…’

  ‘What, Ginger, what should I see?’

  ‘What I’ve done,’ she grinned, ‘or rather, who I’ve done.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ I said, ‘I don’t want to hear about your back seat blow outs…’

  ‘I heard you, Emily,’ she continued, ‘arranging to meet him at seven. Only I, well I met him just now, in the stock room, and, how shall I say it, I’ve given him a hors d’oeuvres beforehand.’

  My eyes widened with rage.

  ‘You’d better be lying, Ginger,’ I exploded, ‘because I’m telling you, if you’ve laid one finger on him…’

  ‘A whole hand actually, but it’s not about the size now, is it?’

  ‘You bitch!’ I shouted, ‘you cheapen everything. You’re a whore!’

  ‘And you’re a frigid virgin. You’re not even for sale.’

  I slapped her.

  She held her hand to her face and glared at me, moving to retaliate just as Tabatha arrived to stop her.

  ‘Go away, Ginger,’ she said, ‘there’s been enough trouble here today without your adding extra flames for us to douse.’

  ‘Shut up, you old trollop!’ she swore straight back, ‘You’ve been fired. I don’t have to listen to you any more, ever, thank God.’

  ‘And thank God there’s only one of you in existence,’ Tabatha retorted, ‘so the rest of us can see more properly where the straight and narrow lies.’

  That bit.

  For a second, the briefest of moments, Ginger really was stung.

  But she recovered quickly, though she did still walk away.

  ‘Good luck getting a job’ she said strutting off, ‘you’ve got about as much chance of finding one as she has getting laid.’