Fitting In

by Amanda Radley

  Heather couldn’t really argue with that, and she couldn’t order Scarlett to socialise with people if she didn’t want to. She wondered if she could appeal to her better nature.

  “Many of us feel that the staff at Silver Arches is more like a family than a collection of employees. We socialise together, we’re there for each other. Some people consider their work colleagues to also be their best friends. You know, we’ve even had some marriages between staff members.”

  Scarlett just stared at Heather as if she were waiting for an actual point to be made.

  “I’m just saying that maybe, if you tried to befriend some of your work colleagues, you might be surprised where that would lead.”

  “To marriage?” Scarlett asked, surprise obvious in her tone.

  Heather smiled. “Well, maybe. Maybe not.”

  “I prefer to be alone. Am I expected to socialise with people who do not like me?” Scarlett asked.

  “Not expected, no. But maybe people would like you if you spent more time with them?”

  “Unlikely,” Scarlet said matter-of-factly.

  Heather laughed and leaned back in her chair. “Why do you say that?”

  Scarlett regarded her. “Experience.”

  “Not experience of these people.” Heather wouldn’t allow her staff to be written off so quickly.

  “No,” Scarlett allowed. “But general experience indicates that I am… an acquired taste.”

  “Maybe give them the opportunity to ta… to get to know you?”

  “I prefer to be alone, but even if that were not the case, I’m aware that minds have been made up and I am disliked. Unless you are ordering me to make friends?”

  Heather shook her head. “No, I couldn’t and wouldn’t order you to do that. I just wanted you to integrate with your teammates; I think it would be a positive thing for you.”

  Scarlett considered that statement for a full five seconds before she picked up her sandwich again. “I disagree.”

  Heather chuckled. “Okay. How about we make a deal: I’ll not pressure you into making friends with people if you ease up on reporting on your colleagues?”

  Scarlett’s eyes widened in mild surprise. “You don’t wish for me to advise management when an employee is in breach of regulation?”

  “Depends on the breach.” Heather leaned forward, placing her interlaced hands on the table. “Reporting people when they are two minutes late to their shift isn’t essential, but it will upset your teammates.”

  Scarlett considered this. “I see. You would like me to not report timekeeping violations?”

  “That’s a start.”

  An eyebrow raised. “There’s more?”

  “I think it would be advisable for you to not report on anything your colleagues do unless it’s an incredibly serious breach. Like theft. Or murder.”

  Scarlett looked intently at Heather’s grinning face.

  “You’re being facetious,” she finally decided.

  “I am. A little.” Heather couldn’t help but smile. Scarlett was so unique and, in some ways, quite pure and innocent. She seemed to completely lack social skills, and while many people would find that off-putting and difficult to deal with, Heather found it fascinating. Scarlett was a puzzle to be solved, like the multitude of puzzle books that she collected at home but far more interesting.

  “Why do you report your colleagues? Don’t you realise that would upset them?” Heather asked.

  “They are breaking the terms of their employment. It’s wrong.” Scarlett took a small bite of her sandwich.

  “Do you report it because of your father?” Heather had to know if Leo was a component in all of this, though she doubted it.

  Scarlett shook her head. “My father and I don’t speak.”

  “You must speak at some point.”

  “Very rarely. He doesn’t like me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Heather said.

  “It is true,” Scarlet declared. “It doesn’t make me sad.”

  Heather didn’t know how to respond to that. She’d be devastated if she didn’t have a good relationship with her parents. She knew not everyone was that lucky. Some people, through no fault of their own, had terrible parents and had no choice but to cut them out of their lives.

  But Leo seemed to care for Scarlett on some level. He called her difficult but still wanted her safely employed; that indicated some level of care to Heather.

  “Are you enjoying working in the security department?” Heather asked, trying to move the subject on to something less dire.

  “It is interesting,” Scarlett allowed.

  Heather waited for Scarlett to elaborate, but nothing came.

  “Just… interesting?” Heather fished.

  “Yes.” Scarlett looked at her passively, seemingly not noticing Heather’s exasperation at needing to pull everything from her. Or maybe pretending not to notice. Heather hadn’t decided yet.

  “Am I to be reassigned?” Scarlett asked.

  “Do you want to be?” Heather replied.

  Scarlett shook her head. “No.”

  “Well, there you go then. A ringing endorsement.” Heather smiled. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be a little difficult to speak to?”

  “Frequently.” Scarlett took another bite of her sandwich.

  Heather chuckled. Does she like acting out like this? Heather wondered. Is it a part of her personality? Or is she messing with us all?

  “Well, I enjoyed our chat. Thank you, Scarlett.” Heather stood up and tucked her chair back under the table.

  Scarlett looked up at her in disbelief. “You did?”

  “I did. Have a nice lunch. I hope we see each other again soon.”

  Heather walked through the food court and back towards her office. She still didn’t really know what to make of Scarlett other than that she was fascinating.

  It was rare that Heather struggled to get an understanding of someone, but that was definitely the case with the young security officer. Heather just couldn’t work her out, and that was rather exhilarating.

  17

  Book Loan Buddy

  Scarlett stared sternly at the young man through the store window. He swallowed hard. She slowly raised an eyebrow. He stopped sliding the bottle of hair product up his sleeve and instead put it into the shopping basket in his other hand.

  She nodded to him and then continued her patrol.

  Tara had recently discussed the merits of simply being seen over performing an immediate arrest of a suspect. Scarlett had bristled at the idea at first. It felt like allowing potential criminals to get away with their almost-crimes.

  She had slowly come around to Tara’s way of thinking. While the nearly-perpetrators didn’t get escorted from the premises, Scarlett could amuse herself by frightening them with a single look.

  It was also far more efficient. Rather than using the time to take an individual off the shop floor and deal with them in a one-on-one scenario that could take up to an hour, she had the opportunity to prevent multiple crimes taking place.

  Often with a simple look.

  Scarlett didn’t like the injustice of letting people go, but she could appreciate the value in the time saved.

  “Scarlett!”

  She looked up to see Nico waving her over. The new pop-up shops were now up and running and had been for a few days. They provided a new set of problems for security as their stalls were open to the elements and therefore provided an easier target for opportunistic thieves.

  Scarlett marched over to Nico, wondering what crime had been committed.

  “Yes?” she asked, looking at the selection of products to see what may have been stolen.

  “How are you?” Nico asked cheerfully as she adjusted some postcards on a rotating stand.

  “How am I?”

  “Yes. You’re one of four people I know here, and I wanted a chat. How are you?”

  “I’m working,” Scarlett replied.

  “Fi
gured out any interests yet?” Nico asked. “We decided you didn’t like books, stickers, or postcards. How about… music?”

  Scarlett opened and then closed her mouth. She considered the question; music wasn’t displeasing. Unless it was too loud, in which case it was irritating. Or too quiet and therefore a distraction. She wouldn’t consider it an interest as such, but it also wasn’t something she necessarily disliked.

  “I’m indifferent to music,” she eventually answered.

  “Okay, then television? What have you been watching lately?” Nico moved on to the next subject without any hesitation.

  “I don’t own a television.” She adjusted her glasses a little.

  “Me neither. I watch everything through my tablet these days. So, what have you been watching?”

  “I don’t watch television shows,” Scarlett stated.

  “How about comics?” Nico asked.

  Scarlett glanced to the comics in the pop-up. She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have any interests.”

  “You do, you just haven’t found them yet,” Nico told her. She leaned on the counter and regarded Scarlett with a smile. “A few years ago, I decided I wanted to try drawing. I went out and got some fancy pencils and some high-grade paper, and I sketched. It was fun.”

  Nico stood up and stretched her back out. “Of course, I was bloody terrible at it and quickly lost interest in the whole thing. But I was interested in it for a while.”

  Scarlett considered sketching. She’d always been competent at recreating what she saw around her on paper, but the act had never served a purpose and so it quickly bored her.

  Nico held up a book. “I read this last night. It’s brilliant. I bet you’d like it.”

  Scarlett wondered how Nico could possibly make such a bold claim considering she hardly knew her. Especially considering that Scarlett had already confessed to not being interested in reading.

  “Here.” Nico held the book towards Scarlett. “You can have it.”

  Scarlett shook her head. “As a member of The Arches Group, I’m not allowed to accept gifts from stores.”

  Nico smiled. “Okay, fine, borrow this and give it back to me when you’ve read it. Seriously, I think you’d like it. I thought it was fab.”

  Scarlett considered that this was a simple fudging of the rules, and she wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.

  Could the loan of a book still be considered a gift? Probably by some. But Nico was being kind and Scarlett didn’t want to be rude. As one of the few people who truly followed the rules, Scarlett decided that maybe this was a time where she could bend them a little.

  “Very well.” She held out her hand.

  Nico handed over the book. “I should probably mention it’s a lesbian romance. You’d be surprised how many people are shocked that I sell books with same-sex relationships in them. As if all these rainbows hanging up weren’t a clue. Are you okay with that?”

  “The rainbows?”

  “No, the fact it’s a lesbian romance.”

  Scarlett shrugged. “I have been in relationships with men and women, so it’s of little matter to me.”

  Suddenly, Steph’s face flashed up in Scarlett’s mind. It had been a long time since she’d thought of her ex-girlfriend.

  Not surprising, as it had been practically another lifetime ago. Back when she was in the army and thought she had a purpose in life.

  “I’m not good with relationships, but I will read the book,” Scarlett added. “And then I will return it, as per our loan agreement.”

  Nico gave a sloppy salute. “Absolutely, book loan buddy. Hope you enjoy it!”

  Scarlett wasn’t sure how to respond to the salute or the comment. So she didn’t.

  18

  Wake-Up Call

  Heather groaned.

  She’d never been good with mornings. While some people seemed to wake from sleep in the time it took to snap fingers, Heather had always struggled with waking up.

  And even when she was finally awake, it took a while for her to properly function. She always set her alarm an hour earlier than it needed to be so that she had plenty of time to get herself together and figure out which way was up and what day of the week it was.

  Which was why it took her a while to realise that something was different this particular morning.

  It wasn’t the soft and pleasant tone of her morning alarm that was waking her up. It was the repetitive, insistent, and growing-ever-louder tone of her phone ringing with an incoming call.

  She sat up and crawled across the bed to snatch up her mobile from where it rumbled on the bedside table. She looked at the screen bleary-eyed for a moment before things came into focus.

  The first thing she noticed was that Tara Manning was calling her. The second thing was that it was almost three in the morning.

  Having her security manager call her at any time outside of office hours was never likely to be a good sign, but the call in the middle of the night was enough to cause Heather’s stomach to somersault.

  “Tara?” she answered, trying to sound more awake than she felt.

  “Sorry for waking you,” Tara said. “I’ve had a call from the police. There’s been a break-in at Silver Arches. I’m in Scotland, but they have contacted the on-duty keyholder.”

  Heather sat up and rubbed at her eyes. She had a vague memory of Tara requesting leave to go on a short romantic getaway to the Highlands. Which meant that Heather was the next senior member of staff to attend a break-in.

  A shopping mall as big as Silver Arches had several keyholders for such emergency situations. Someone would have been woken up the moment any alarms were tripped at the centre and they would have been asked to meet the police.

  If the matter was deemed serious, a senior member of the team would be asked to attend.

  “I logged into the CCTV system, and it looks pretty bad at the south entrance. I think they attempted to drive a car through the doors,” Tara explained.

  Heather felt her eyebrows raise. “Bold.”

  “Messy,” Tara corrected.

  Heather got out of bed and fumbled for the light switch. It wasn’t the first time that Silver Arches had been broken into, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But that didn’t mean Heather had got any better at being woken in the middle of the night to deal with it.

  “Okay, I’m on my way in,” Heather said. “You get back to bed and try to enjoy your holiday.”

  “I’ll try. I’m in the doghouse,” Tara replied. “Some people don’t understand that the police have my phone number regardless of whether I’m on holiday or not.”

  Heather chuckled. It looked like there was a bright side to being alone.

  “Good luck,” she said as she signed off. She opened her wardrobe and grabbed some clothes.

  It wasn’t strictly necessary for her to be the one onsite when something happened; she could have long ago delegated these duties to someone else, but Heather liked to lead from the front.

  She would never hand a job to a member of staff that she wasn’t prepared to do herself, and so her name remained on the senior keyholder roster and now and then a call came in on her day off or in the middle of the night. It was all part of the job.

  As she stripped off her pyjamas and pulled on some jeans and a thick roll neck, she tried to think who was on duty that evening. Someone had been awoken by the initial alarm going off, and depending on who that was, they might have reached the scene before the police did.

  She supposed she’d find out shortly.

  * * *

  The streets were empty, which meant that Heather managed to get to the centre in record-breaking time without once going over the speed limit.

  Of course she was keen to get there as soon as possible, but she didn’t want to run the risk of getting caught by the multiple speed cameras that lined the busy roads surrounding the centre.

  When she was within sight of the centre, she didn’t need to guess where the
attempted break-in had taken place. The entire area was covered in flashing blue lights. As she pulled into the large car park and got closer to the scene, she saw two ambulances, five police cars, and even a police van.

  A police officer waved her down, and she opened the car window.

  “I’m Heather Bailey, centre director,” she greeted him, holding up her work ID pass for him to look at.

  He took the pass and examined it for a beat before nodding and handing it back. He pointed to the cluster of cars.

  “You’ll want to speak to DI Armstrong; he’s in charge.”

  She thanked him and drove towards the scene of the crime. By the centre doors she could see a small, crumpled car and piles of shattered glass. It seemed that the driver had managed to destroy the first set of doors but had stalled before getting to the second set.

  While they hadn’t been successful in breaking in, they had managed to cause a lot of damage.

  She got out of her car and sucked in a deep breath of crisp morning air. It was going to be a long day.

  She walked towards the person she assumed was DI Armstrong, and she glanced towards the open door of one of the ambulances to see two teenage boys being treated for what looked like superficial facial wounds, police officers watching over them.

  Heather shook her head. It would be teenage boys. She didn’t like to profile people, but she couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been teenage boys.

  As she passed the second ambulance, she glanced up and expected to see more of the same. She stopped dead when she saw the paramedic holding a compress to the forehead of someone she instantly recognised.

  “Scarlett?” Heather asked.

  Scarlett looked up.

  Heather gasped. There were minor cuts and contusions all over her face. Blood ran down her face to trickle onto her white, long-sleeve T-shirt; more blood matted her normally white-blonde hair.

  “What happened?” Heather stepped closer, still in some shock at seeing Scarlett so beaten up.

  “I received a call at two twenty-nine from the alarm company,” Scarlett explained calmly. “I arrived on scene at two forty-two to see a car attempting to gain access to the centre.”