The Hopes and Dreams of Lucy Baker

by Jenni Keer

  ‘For an old lady?’ Brenda volunteered.

  ‘Yeah.’ Jess smiled. ‘For an old lady. A white witch married to a pop star.’

  ‘I said my mother was a white witch. I don’t follow any particular doctrine. I am what I am and don’t label myself.’

  You are certainly unique, thought Lucy to herself. She took a hasty sip of her gin and instantly regretted it. Her whole body tingled as the alcohol made its way down like a slow electric pulse.

  ‘So, everyone knows “London Lady” and “Give Me Some of your Lovin’”, but what happened to The Yellow Crows after that?’ Jess asked.

  ‘There were some minor hits in the late Sixties but they disbanded in… Oh, I forget.’

  ‘Seventy-two,’ reminded Lucy.

  ‘That’s right, and after the tragically early death of the lead singer there was never any chance of them reforming. Jim trained as a music teacher, albeit an unorthodox one. Although he was a drummer, he was competent on the keyboard and guitar.’

  ‘You never told me all this stuff,’ Jess said to Lucy. ‘You have a really funky neighbour.’

  ‘Friend,’ corrected Lucy and got a cheeky wink from Brenda in return.

  ‘Anyway, Luce said that the words inside the locket had changed,’ said Jess, swinging the conversation back to the locket.

  ‘Yes. They do that.’ It was said so matter-of-factly that Lucy felt herself physically jolt. Brenda was sitting there, telling them that the engraved words in a silver locket had said one thing the day she handed it over and another a few days later. Totally impossible. She must be stringing Jess along; after all, Jess was lapping all the white witch tales up like a thirsty cat.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Jess asked.

  ‘There are some simple spells for Lucy to follow. If she carries them out, she has the power of the universe on her side to get her man. And if she wears it…’ Brenda gave Lucy a stern look ‘…there are other benefits.’

  ‘Fab,’ said Jess. ‘And after she’s got her man she can pass it to me?’

  ‘There I must disagree. The locket chooses people. Lucy will know when to hand it on and to whom. I’ve had it for sixty years and only passed it on once before, although it came back to me for safekeeping after it had done its job on that occasion.’

  ‘I wonder how old it is?’ said Jess, undeterred. ‘Probably Victorian because they were into a lot of charms and superstition and all that stuff. It looks kind of twiddly and old.’

  Brenda smiled. ‘Older than you would believe, and Lucy will be the next success story in its long and interesting history…’

  As Brenda closed the front door to them half an hour later and they started to walk down the path, Jess tugged Lucy’s sleeve.

  ‘What car does George drive?’ she asked, springing about like an excitable puppy.

  ‘Some big black thing with this year’s plate, but I don’t know the model.’

  ‘Is it that bloody huge Audi A4 parked outside number twenty-four?’

  ‘Oh, he’s home.’ This was not good news. And Jess was far too enthusiastic for Lucy’s liking.

  ‘Great, let’s pay him a visit.’ Jess turned left and walked towards George’s house.

  ‘You can’t just knock on his door,’ but her friend was already bounding towards his house.

  ‘Watch me.’

  Lucy hovered in the background, a position she was used to, as George’s dark green front door swung open. She loitered behind a low-growing, purple-flowering hebe as if this knee-high shrub would somehow conceal her.

  Jess, who normally had no problem launching into conversation, stood on his front step momentarily dumbstruck.

  ‘Yes?’ an impatient George snapped.

  Jess smoothed down her hair and gave a small cough. Perhaps she was also intimidated by the size of him. Up close, there was an awful lot of George Aberdour.

  ‘We wondered if we could borrow, erm…a cup of sugar. We’re making cupcakes and we’ve completely run out.’

  ‘Sugar?’ he sighed. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ Jess said, levelling up to George. Well, levelling up to the wide expanse of his firm chest. Lucy knew it was wise not to pick a fight with Jess; George clearly had that lesson still to learn. ‘If you don’t have any, or you’re too mean to lend a neighbour some for the cakes they are baking to raise money for the orphaned, disabled children, who have recently had their orphanage repossessed – then that’s fine. We won’t bother you any more.’

  ‘Orphaned, disabled and homeless?’ His top lip twitched.

  Jess put her hands firmly on her curvaceous hips, and Lucy saw his eyes survey the petite waist and slender legs of her friend for longer than she thought was strictly necessary.

  ‘Yes.’ Jess folded her arms across her push-up-bra-enhanced bosom and tapped an impatient foot.

  ‘In that case, I’ll have a rummage. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for them starving on top of all their other misfortunes.’ He looked past Jess, noticing Lucy for the first time as she half bobbed behind the shrub. ‘Did Brenda get the flowers?’ he called over.

  ‘Um, yes, she was delighted. It was kind of you.’ She gave a half-hearted sniff of the hebe bush to make it appear her unnatural stance had a purpose.

  ‘Nonsense, it was only a phone call, but on this occasion I picked them out myself. Normally my secretary does that sort of thing for me. Right, sugar.’ George strode down the hallway.

  ‘Oo, get him. “Normally my secretary does that sort of thing.” Does she wipe his bloody—’ Jess stopped mid sentence as he loomed into view.

  ‘Keep it. It’s a spare.’ He thrust an unopened bag of granulated at Jess. ‘And my secretary happens to be male, so I have to wipe my own backside.’ He nodded at Lucy, merely an acknowledgement she was there, and closed the front door between them.

  ‘A cup of sugar?’ Lucy repeated as they walked back to her flat.

  ‘I panicked.’

  Jess was sprawled across the sofa, wiggling her scarlet toenails and clutching the last glass of wine.

  ‘He’s got a certain something, that’s for sure. Absolutely not my type, but I can see where Brenda’s coming from. And all that monosyllabic rubbish, I mean, doesn’t he realise it makes him more attractive?’

  ‘Does it? I’d rather he was pleasant and generally more chatty.’ Lucy looped the wool around her hook and slipped off the stitch. She was finishing the last of the crocheted brooches for Chloe’s preschool fête.

  ‘Nonsense. It’s a touch of the Darcy. You’re the one who reads all those historical romances. Those dukes and viscounts are always offhand and aloof until the feisty heroine comes along and tames them. You should so be the one to tame him, Luce.’ Jess looked at her bemused friend and gave her an enormous grin. ‘Come on, let’s do this candle thing. It’ll be payback for being so up himself. You can sweep along to that posh thing of your mum’s in his fancy black Audi to get her off your case. By that point he’ll be so under the spell he’ll be all like, “Oh, I love you, Lucy Baker. Marry me?” And you can be all, “No way, loser. Back off.”’

  ‘Don’t you think I can bag my charming neighbour without resorting to Brenda’s dodgy locket?’

  Jess coughed as she sipped from her glass. ‘Sweetie, you hid in a bloody bush just now. There was no eye contact and certainly no physical contact – both of which tend to be my opening gambits. A stoke of the arm and a lingering look work wonders.’

  ‘I’m a slow burner. I don’t want to swamp the poor chap. I talked to him about the flowers.’

  ‘Your slow burning hasn’t even ignited the wick.’ Jess shoved Thor, Ed and Wolverine to the edge of the sofa and leaned forward. ‘And talking of wicks, and in anticipation of your excuses, I stopped at that hippy shop on the way here.’ She rummaged in her bag and stood a six-inch beeswax pillar candle on the low coffee table between them. ‘You’ll be letting Brenda down if you don’t at least give it a go, and I know you’re keen to keep the old dear happy. The w
oman in the shop said it should burn for at least eight hours, which will do nicely for your all-night vigil, and it will give off a lovely natural honey scent. It’s a full moon next Saturday, so you have no excuse and a whole week to psych yourself up.’

  Chapter 12

  Lucy’s heart sank as she entered the sales office balancing a tray of tea in one hand, and wrestling the door with the other. Dashing Daniel, the East Anglian Area Sales Rep, was loitering by her desk and fiddling with a decapitated teddy bear. Daniel unsettled Lucy as much as he excited Jess.

  ‘Hope you’ve made one for me, lovely Lucy?’ Daniel’s voice was loud enough to ensure she became the focus of the entire office.

  ‘Erm…I didn’t know you were coming. I’m sure there is enough water in the kettle if—’

  ‘Just playing with you, Lucy. Grabbed a Costa on the way in.’

  Lucy felt her cheeks burn and turned away to distribute the beverages.

  ‘Still got you doing the tea round? Old Dickie-boy needs to invest in a decent drinks dispenser for you all.’

  ‘That’s highly unlikely since he brought old Starchy Knickers in to cut our overheads to the bone,’ said Adam, walking up to Lucy and helping himself to his I Like Big Cups And I Cannot Lie mug.

  Lucy shot a panicked look to the far end of the office, worried that Adam and Daniel’s less than respectful nicknames might get overheard, but Sam was nowhere to be seen, and Mr Tompkins (who had never invited anyone at the workplace to address him as anything other than Mr Tompkins) was safely behind his office door flicking through golf magazines.

  ‘She Who Must Be Obeyed is out with Derek today,’ said Adam, following her gaze. ‘You should have seen his face when he turned up at half five this morning to find a bright and breezy Sam, complete with her Marks and Spencer Moroccan-style Fruity Couscous and Vanilla Bean and Maple Syrup Smoothie, ready to hit the road. All hopes of stopping at Meg’s Diner for his usual mid-morning fry-up flew rapidly from his mind.’

  ‘He’s allowed a break. He’s not doing anything wrong by stopping there,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Yeah, but would you take her into a greasy spoon caff?’

  ‘She’s only doing her job.’

  Lucy had noticed that things were already running more smoothly with Sam around. Yes, she was tough, but you didn’t get to the top by making friends. Richard’s golf magazines had only come out because she was off site. Everyone was making more of an effort and knuckling down when she was around.

  ‘That’s right, Lucy. You stand up for your boss. Girl power,’ said Daniel.

  ‘I am her immediate superior, Daniel, and therefore I am her boss, not Sam. In fact, as I am technically in charge of sales, you’re also answerable to me.’

  ‘In your dreams. And talking of dreams, you featured in one of mine recently, Lucy. You were wearing a black, lacy basque with a notepad in your hand, offering to take something down for me…’

  ‘Excuse me. I have work to do.’ Her already red face was now positively aflame as she tried to manoeuvre past the two men.

  ‘Don’t make inappropriate remarks to my ladies, Daniel. We run a PC office and we like to think of ourselves as a caring family in here. Besides, Lucy is hardly likely to wear a basque. She’s not got the figure. You need curves to pull something like that off.’

  However hard she tried, Lucy could not make herself invisible or these embarrassing men disappear. She squeezed past them and slid the tray under her desk, not bothering to return it to the kitchen as she knew full well she’d be making the afternoon tea. Slipping on her headset, she hoped they’d get the message and move on to annoy someone else.

  ‘Talking of which, Lucy,’ said Adam. ‘Could you get straight on to The Toy Depot? They want to know if we can get some outdoor games for the under-fives to them by lunchtime. They’ve massively under-ordered garden toys this year – like the rest of us, they probably weren’t expecting the summer to start so early – but most of our warehouse stock is spoken for. Perhaps you could rustle up some pavement chalks, or buckets and spades for them in the meantime?’

  ‘Hold it right there, Adam,’ said Daniel, tossing the headless bear onto Lucy’s desk. ‘I’ve specifically popped into the office for Lucy’s help, so you’ll have to join the queue.’ Lucy’s heart sank to her sensible shoes. Being wanted by Daniel was not a good thing, unless you were Jess.

  ‘You don’t get to breeze in here and monopolise my staff. She needs to sort out this problem for The Toy Depot.’ Adam squared up to Daniel. The only thing in his favour was his height, but it didn’t faze Daniel. Nothing much did.

  ‘I thought it was the sales office supervisor’s job to sort the problems,’ said Daniel.

  ‘It’s okay. It’s probably my fault. I didn’t order enough because we had all that stock left over from last summer,’ Lucy said, aware the tension was escalating.

  ‘Far be it for me to question your priorities, Adam, but I’ve managed to negotiate with a major supermarket chain to stock the ClickIn that we import exclusively, and it’s all systems go. After the price hike of Lego since Brexit, there’s quite a lot of interest in compatible building bricks. But if you want me to wait until she’s sorted your little trauma…’ He shrugged, dismissively.

  ClickIn had been developed by a personal friend of Richard Tompkins – a plastics manufacturer based in Belgium. It was a quality product with a growing range and was doing well in mainland Europe. Mr Tompkins had secured exclusive UK distribution rights, so if it took off, it would be a major coup for Tompkins. Daniel knew he’d won the round, Lucy knew he’d won the round, and even Adam knew he’d won the round.

  Daniel pulled up a spare chair next to Lucy and started to run through the details with her, as his final presentation would need to be faultless. Adam hitched up his trousers and sulked back to his desk, muttering something about bloody reps breezing in and thinking they owned the place.

  ‘Right, I’m off to have lunch with a lovely lady from The Wooden Toy Company,’ Daniel announced, an hour later. ‘Strictly work.’ He winked at Lucy. ‘I’ll be back later for those ClickIn promotional starter sets. I know there was a box delivered last week and I’ll need some for the supermarket directors to play with.’

  ‘Um, okay. I’ll sort them out for you.’

  Daniel sauntered out towards the door singing ‘Stand and Deliver’ at an unnecessarily loud volume.

  ‘Adam?’ he said, as he stopped in the doorway.

  Adam looked up from fiddling with his stapler, pinging a strip of staples across the room as he did so.

  ‘Look after your Ants,’ said Daniel. His hand swept the office by way of explanation and then he ran two fingers across his eyes, fired two imaginary flintlock pistols and popped them back in their equally imaginary holsters.

  ‘That man spends too much damn time driving around the countryside listening to bloody Radio Two,’ said Adam.

  Chapter 13

  Adam finally sat down to access his computer late that afternoon, having spent most of the day looking over people’s shoulders and spouting random motivational comments, including, much to Connor’s delight, ‘You’ll never climb to the top the mountain, Sonjit, if you don’t prepare the way with a lawnmower.’ She’d only asked if the warehouse needed to do a manual stock check of fidget spinners for a bulk order.

  Adam fiddled about with the mouse and Lucy watched his face go from confused to frustrated to angry. Connor was eventually called over to cast his slightly more technically knowledgeable eye over the problem. It took him seconds to work out someone had stuck a Post-it over the laser. Adam was straight on the phone.

  ‘Ha bloody ha, Daniel… Because who else would it be? I don’t need proof. I know it was you… Oh yeah, like the time you offered me an Oreo with toothpaste in the middle? I wasn’t bloody laughing… Deny it all you like, but I’ll catch you in the act eventually and then we’ll see who’s got the biggest smile on their face.’ The phone was slammed down with considerable force. ‘Did an
yone notice Daniel near my desk this morning?’ Adam addressed the whole office, but Lucy and Pat avoided eye contact. ‘Don’t try and cover for him, ladies. He’s a wolf in fox’s clothing. He’s sneaky like a fox and I don’t trust him. He comes in here all charm and flattery, but mark my words, turn your backs and he’ll gobble you up and spit you out for breakfast.’

  The phone conversation with Daniel reminded Lucy she needed to dig out the ClickIn starter sets, and with the clock heading towards half five, she headed downstairs to locate the box.

  The stationery cupboard was jokingly referred to as the Tardis by the staff, partly because of its cobalt blue door and partly because certain people (who placed great importance on their stationery upkeep) seemed to disappear in there for decades. It was a cupboard by virtue of having no outside windows but was, in fact, room-sized. As well as stationery and the large, old-fashioned photocopier, it housed all the promotional literature from their suppliers and any free gifts or samples for customers. Lucy found the ClickIn box dumped behind a more recent delivery of photocopier paper, but as she leaned over to pull the heavy box out of the way, she caught a precariously balanced box of Biros with her elbow. It tumbled to the floor and one hundred 0.1mm black ballpoint pens spread themselves out behind the stacked boxes. Oh, why was she so clumsy?

  She bent over the boxes to try and retrieve the scattered pens. As she did so, the door opened behind her and someone flicked the lights out as the door swung shut.

  ‘Well, hellooo,’ said a Leslie Phillips-style voice.

  Lucy froze as the footsteps got nearer.

  ‘I spy, with my little eye, a rather shapely behind. Ding-dong!’

  Lucy turned around to confront Daniel with his hands on his hips, but before she could react, the door swung open again. The smile fell immediately from Daniel’s face and, although the figure in the doorway was just a silhouette, there was no mistaking Sam’s authoritative voice.

  ‘Do you really think the workplace is appropriate for this type of behaviour?’ she asked.