The Hopes and Dreams of Lucy Baker

by Jenni Keer

  ‘Oh great, that’s my afternoon bollocksed up then,’ huffed Roy.

  Lucy found Sam heaving boxes of ride-on Noo Noos out of the industrial racking. As Lucy approached, Sam glanced at her watch and wiped her dusty hand across her forehead, leaving a dirty smudge.

  ‘You’re early.’

  ‘I’d finished so I didn’t mind. Have you stopped for lunch?’

  ‘I grabbed a coffee earlier.’

  To give the woman her due, she wasn’t a slacker. Lucy walked over to help.

  ‘No, don’t you get mucky. I’m happy doing this. I need you to chase up each item and find out why we have it. Is it faulty stock? Damaged? Or just over-ordered? As long as the manufacturer isn’t waiting for us to return the pallet in order to credit us – you’ll need accounts’ help for that – we can brainstorm what to do with them. I’m reluctant to dump perfectly good items. If Roy and I work on a stock check of this area, could you give some time over to putting together some sort of report? Tell Adam I’ve told you to come off the phones. And if he complains he’s a man down, tell him to pick up a headset.’

  That would go down well. Why did she have to be nominated to pass that information on?

  ‘And while I’ve got you, I wanted a word about earlier.’ Lucy swallowed. ‘Is there a reason you don’t eat in the upstairs staffroom? I would have thought it was more appropriate. Girls of your own age, less swearing, more hygienic…’

  ‘Is it a problem?’

  ‘No, you can eat your lunch where you like, within reason.’

  Another black mark in her copybook.

  Sam turned back to the shelves but then hesitated. ‘The other women aren’t unkind?’

  ‘No. They’re fine.’

  ‘Okay. Because I won’t tolerate bullying in the office.’

  ‘Honestly, they’re fine.’

  Chapter 19

  ‘I’ve failed again,’ Lucy said to Brenda over a chamomile-scented tea and a malted milk biscuit.

  Brenda had been quite agitated when Lucy first arrived, fretting over the name of the Prime Minister, like it was the most important thing in the world that she should be able to recall it. But she was happier now that her dear friend was with her and was eager to hear about her day.

  ‘Eating with the warehouse workers is obviously unacceptable,’ Lucy continued. ‘I’m amassing whatever the opposite of house points are by the day.’

  ‘Hovel points?’ Brenda smiled.

  ‘Probably, because that’s where I’ll be living if I lose this job. The rent is already squeezing me dry.’

  Brenda patted her hand. ‘Things often turn out better than you think they’re going to. Too many people spend a lifetime worrying about things that never happen. Sometimes you remind me of my younger self: uncertain of my path and lacking in confidence. If you’ve been wearing that locket, you’ll start to notice a difference in your confidence levels.’

  Lucy felt her face flush. ‘I haven’t,’ she admitted. ‘But I will. I’m sorry. I thought I could sort this out myself.’

  Brenda smiled to herself. ‘Jim was the person who taught me to believe in myself and grab the things I wanted in life.’

  ‘And the locket,’ Lucy reminded her.

  ‘Erm, yes, that as well. But the love of a good man does wonders. And, on that note, how are things going with that lovely young man from next door? Jerry? Jeffrey?’

  ‘George. Not so good…’

  And Lucy, pleased Brenda was having a good day and really needing a friend, finally filled her in on the candle catastrophe, as Brenda had clearly slept through the whole disaster.

  Brenda tittered to herself all the way through the tale. ‘I said you two would get on like a house on fire.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me you knew I was going to set my books alight?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Brenda admitted, and giggled again.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ said Lucy, although secretly she was delighted to see her friend in such cheery spirits – even if it was at her expense.

  ‘My dear, if you can’t look back at life’s disasters and see the funny side how can you move on?’

  ‘Okay then, it was a bit comical. Especially when he came charging through the front door.’ Lucy’s legs felt a bit fuzzy as she remembered his stubble and his aftershave, both in closer proximity to her than she would have liked.

  ‘How sexy to have that great hunk of a man draped over you. It’s all very Mills and Boon. Which reminds me, you said I could borrow some of those new Regency romances of yours a while ago. There’s no hurry, but I’m still interested, when you’ve got the time to look a few out.’

  Lucy’s heart sank.

  ‘I dropped them to you a couple of weeks ago. Don’t you remember? You finished The Nobleman’s Daughter because we had a laugh about the bath scene.’

  ‘Did I? Oh, silly me. Yes. Quite right. They’ll never beat a Betty though.’

  Brenda, who had devoured Mills and Boons since she was a girl, had a soft spot for Betty Neels and her laughingly chaste heroines. Ironic, given Brenda’s less than chaste lifestyle before, and apparently after, she met Jim. (Lucy had been shocked to learn car keys in the fruit bowl was not an urban myth, and even more shocked that Brenda had participated, considering Jim was the love of her life.) One of the many reasons for their friendship was a shared passion for a taciturn doctor from the Seventies or an egotistical viscount from 1815. Lucy often passed books on to her friend, hiding a paperback under her cardigan or carrying a few over in an unmarked carrier bag. Brenda would smile and remind her she wasn’t trading in illegal drugs, but then Brenda hadn’t spent a lifetime being teased for her choice of reading material.

  ‘Get Emily to lend you some decent books,’ her mother pleaded. ‘Instead of all that silly, dreamy nonsense. You need to get your head out of the clouds and focused on a career.’ What she didn’t know, because Lucy wasn’t a telltale, was Emily read romances and enjoyed them just as much as Lucy did. Emily was canny enough, however, to leave the latest Man Booker prizewinner casually out on the sideboard when her mother was babysitting her little darlings.

  ‘So, back to our hunky neighbour…’ Brenda was deftly moving the subject away from her forgetfulness. ‘If you’ve completed the candle spell, that cheeky little locket will have something else up its sleeve.’

  The locket was still in her handbag from Sunday when she’d gone to The King’s Arms with Jess. She bent over to fish it from her bag, looked at it sitting innocently in her hand and thought about her resolution to be bolder. Nothing had changed. She still wasn’t standing up to her mother, was still pushed around at work and was still letting George call her Lisa. Perhaps she did need some help, after all.

  She poked her head through the chain and the locket slid down her chest, nestling between her breasts. A soft glow seemed to spread through her entire body. She took a slow breath in and then exhaled, feeling calmer about everything somehow. Flipping the catch, she read out the latest spell: the three hairs under his bed shenanigans.

  ‘Ah, I remember. I had to enlist the help of Jim’s younger sister with that one. It cost me a shilling and a bag of penny sweets to bribe her. So how are you going to sneak some of your hairs into his bedroom? I don’t suppose you can pay off Scratbag with a couple of fresh herring?’

  ‘Jess has a plan.’

  ‘Oo, good.’ Brenda rubbed her pale hands together. ‘You will tell me how it goes, won’t you?’

  Lucy nodded. Jess was right; her journey with the locket was breathing new life into Brenda and following the spells cost her nothing but her time. ‘I’d better head back now and get myself something to eat, but I’ll be over again later.’ She stood up, conscious of the locket swinging as she moved.

  ‘It’s kind of you, but I don’t need constant checking.’ Brenda stood up and walked over to wind up the Edwardian wooden mantel clock. ‘I’m more sorted for what is coming than you think, Lucy.’

  Chapter 20

  Lucy s
tood on the pavement outside Brenda’s, taking in everything around her; from the cheerful pink and lilac aquilegias nodding their bell-shaped heads in the front gardens, to the lazy butterflies, sunning themselves against the crumbling red bricks of the boundary walls. She noticed Scratbag perched on the warm bonnet of George’s car, and was convinced he winked at her. He looked first at his owner’s front door, then swivelled his head back pointedly to look in her direction as if to say, ‘What are you waiting for?’

  She pulled her shoulders back and turned towards George’s house, head high, but as she put up her hand to knock, the door swung inward.

  ‘Ah, Lisa, just the woman. I was about to pay you a visit as I believe this is yours.’ He handed her the bookmarked copy of The Duke’s Dangerous Secret. ‘Unless Scratbag has nipped out for a library card when I wasn’t looking. More of a classics man myself, but I expect it has merit, if you’re into that kind of thing.’

  ‘Lucy,’ she corrected, placing her hand across her chest where the locket lay beneath her T-shirt. Was she imagining it? Or was the locket almost buzzing?

  ‘Oh, I could swear your name was Lisa.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t. It’s Lucy. It’s always been Lucy. There was never a time in my life when it wasn’t Lucy.’ Surprised at her confidence with this intimidating man, she felt her heart rate double and her mouth go dry.

  ‘Right. Erm, I was actually coming round to ask a favour…’

  Lucy crossed her arms, hoping it made her look in control, but also to muffle the thudding from her chest.

  ‘There is a final meeting with the German pulp and paper manufacturer, so I’m flying over Wednesday evening. I’ll be back late Thursday afternoon. Scratbag needs feeding. Not that I plan on keeping him long-term, but I couldn’t see him homeless.’

  ‘If you say please, I’ll think about it.’ It was a revelation to Lucy to realise she had the upper hand. He wanted something from her, and she had the power to say no – not that she would, but he didn’t know that.

  George, who had been standing legs apart and chest out, dropped his shoulders slightly.

  ‘Of course. Did I not say please? I thought I had.’

  ‘You most certainly did not.’

  ‘I apologise. Please would you feed Scratbag while I’m away, Li— Lucy?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I’ve got a lot of work commitments coming up that will involve staying away…’

  ‘It’s not a problem. As long as you ask nicely and give me a bit of warning.’

  ‘I’ll pay you, naturally.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want payment. But perhaps you could do a similar favour for me in return?’

  ‘Don’t tell me your knitted pals need feeding? What do I give them? Kapok?’ Lucy was close to telling him where to stick his kapok and he sensed this. ‘Sorry. Uncalled for. They look very…technical. I’m sure my fat fingers couldn’t manipulate the needles to knit so much as a scarf. All credit to you for having a creative hobby.’

  Lucy narrowed her eyes and tried to assess how genuine the apology was.

  ‘I was going to ask if you’d keep an eye on Brenda when I visit my parents the weekend after next. She insists she doesn’t need looking after, but I’m trying to check in on her a couple of times a day. Now the UTI has been treated, it’s only a case of making sure she eats and drinks properly and giving her some company. She can be a bit forgetful, that’s all.’

  ‘As long as she doesn’t turn me into a toad, or anything.’ He raised an eyebrow. Clearly the misguided neighbourhood whispers regarding Brenda’s dubious practices had reached him.

  ‘Is that a yes then?’

  ‘Not sure she particularly likes me, but of course I’ll do it.’

  ‘Oh, she likes you.’ Lucy thought back to Brenda’s various comments about what she would like to do with his supposedly irresistible body. ‘Much, much more than you think.’

  ‘So, I had this simply marvellous idea and thought, as you are quite crafty, you could make up one hundred napkin swans for the tables?’

  There was another thudding in Lucy’s chest.

  ‘Erm, no, I don’t think so, Mother.’ She twirled the locket chain about her fingers.

  ‘Sorry? Did you say no?’ Lucy could almost visualise her mother removing the receiver from her face, giving the phone a withering stare and putting it back to her ear.

  ‘That may have come out wrong, but I really don’t want to spend hours and hours folding napkin swans. I’ve made them before and they are quite complicated. I have more important things to do.’

  ‘Like what?’ Sandra said in a tone that implied she couldn’t possibly imagine her youngest daughter having priorities that took precedence over her napkin swans.

  ‘I’m in the process of setting up a website for my knitted figures.’ It wasn’t true, she hadn’t done a thing, convinced no one would buy them, but it was the first thing that sprang to mind. ‘It’s taking up all my spare time at the moment. I’m calling it, erm…Nicely Knitted Celebrities. Depending how that goes, I might not have a lot of spare time by September.’ Plus, Brenda might need more care by then, she thought to herself, and she knew which activity she gave priority to.

  ‘So you think people will actually pay for them?’ her mother asked.

  ‘Emily thought so. She’s been very encouraging.’ Perhaps she would speak to Emily and Jess about setting a website up as they were both huge supporters of the idea. Even if it didn’t take off, the anonymity of an online site meant her failure would be low-key.

  ‘I was about to say she’s the person you should talk to, what with all her experience.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure her years of experience selling books and pens gives her an excellent insight into the market for knitted dolls. I mean, she’s practically Alan Sugar.’

  ‘You are in a funny mood tonight,’ her mother said. ‘Perhaps I’ll ring again tomorrow when you are in a more agreeable frame of mind.’

  ‘You’re finally wearing the locket,’ said Jess.

  ‘Brenda was keen and it is a pretty thing.’ Why had it taken her so long to accept she couldn’t do this by herself? The effect had been almost instant and enabled her to stand up for herself with George. Once she’d put the locket around her neck, something had taken over, given her a self-assurance she could never have summoned alone.

  ‘So when’s the Not-Jolly-At-All Green Giant off next?’ Jess asked Lucy, as they chatted in the staff car park, enjoying the slow-building heat of the morning and delaying entering the air-conditioned chill of the office. It was June and summer had finally nudged spring out of the way and persuaded her to take the unseasonal rain in her suitcase. She wrapped the country in warm temperatures and bestowed upon it long, lazy days with cooling evening breezes. The weather was absolutely perfect. But this was England; it wouldn’t last.

  ‘Tonight. Some important meeting in Germany. I really don’t understand the business world. Germany is a place I would go for a week, not an afternoon. He’s returning tomorrow.’

  ‘Then I can come over and help with the spell. Shoving a couple of hairs under his bed should be a breeze, especially as you have a key. I’m glad we aren’t going to have to resort to my lock-picking skills. They’re a bit rusty.’

  Not sure if that was a joke or not, Lucy moved the conversation on. ‘It feels a bit dishonest. He’s given me a key to feed the cat, not to go snooping about the house.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Luce, live a little. You might find you enjoy yourself. The most daring thing you’ve ever done was knit in 2 ply when the pattern said four.’

  ‘You’re not funny, Jessica Ridley.’

  ‘No, but I’m right.’

  ‘Come on, Polly,’ said Adam.

  Lucy looked up from the floor where she was kneeling; fliers advertising bargain Teletubby stock spread out across the colourful floor tiles and the locket swinging as she moved.

  ‘Put the kettle on. It’s eleven o�
��clock. Time for the morning coffee round. Can’t have my team flailing at the last post.’

  She was about to get to her feet, but hesitated.

  ‘I’m dreadfully busy, Adam. I need to get these out today. Could you please ask someone else?’

  ‘But you always do it.’ Adam placed his hands firmly on his hips.

  ‘Exactly. So I think it’s someone else’s turn, don’t you? Perhaps a rota would be fairer?’

  Adam huffed but didn’t push it any further. ‘Pat, be a love,’ he said.

  Lucy heard the wheels of Pat’s chair squeak as she rolled it away from the desk and saw her reluctant auburn head bob up.

  This being-confident lark was proving so much easier than Lucy could ever have imagined. Saying what she felt and standing up for herself had always seemed such a scary prospect. She had wrongly assumed it would lead to conflict and confrontation. Two things she had generally spent her life trying to avoid.

  ‘If you need to pop out more often than usual today, just say,’ Adam said, walking past her desk with an armful of folders and pulling a conspiratorial face with a huge pantomime wink. Lucy frowned. ‘You know? To the ladies’? I completely understand about you women and your monthlies.’

  That evening Jess was at Lucy’s doorstep with her overnight bag and two bottles of Chardonnay.

  ‘Jess! We’ll never get through both of those.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time you let go a bit, Luce. Honestly, you are about the only person I know whose face doesn’t light up like a Belisha beacon when they see an unopened bottle of the old vino.’ She threw her overnight bag into the hallway and stood the bottles inside the door. ‘Right, let’s get it over with.’

  ‘You want to do it now?’

  ‘Why not? Lucy Baker, you think about things too much.’

  ‘I’m not dashing over to George’s yet. It’s too early to feed Scratbag and the man only left two hours ago. The neighbours will think it’s odd.’

  ‘What? Odd that we’re going over to feed the neighbour’s cat, which you’ve been asked to do anyway?’ Jess glanced at her friend’s saucer-like eyes and tutted. It probably was too early for Scratbag’s supper, but Jess was a doer not a ponderer like Lucy. ‘Fine, fine. We’ll start on one of these,’ and she grabbed a Chardonnay by the neck. ‘And don’t you dare say it’s too early for a drink.’