‘Mummy used to sell houses to people.’
‘And your daddy?’
Harriet watched, fascinated, as two dark pink patches appeared in the middle of the child’s cheeks.
‘He was a soldier.’ Her voice was barely audible.
‘He was a soldier?’
Evie fell silent.
‘Can I go to the toilet, please, miss?’ Thomas Manton asked.
Harriet glared at the boy and he shrank back down into his chair.
‘Explain to us what you mean by saying your dad was a soldier,’ Harriet said, turning to Evie again.
‘He had an accident,’ Evie said.
‘What kind of an accident?’ Jack said.
Evie looked down.
‘Jack asked you a question,’ Harriet said. ‘Again, Jack?’
‘What kind of an accident?’ Jack repeated.
‘He fell off a cliff, in Af – Af-gan-stan,’ Evie said, her voice cracking. ‘He died.’
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘He fell off a cliff, Jack,’ Harriet repeated.
Jack’s mouth dropped open.
‘Well, there we go. That’s Evie’s story,’ Harriet said brightly. ‘Her mummy doesn’t work anymore and her daddy used to be a soldier but he fell off a cliff and died.’
Matilda giggled.
Evie let out a sob.
‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Evie,’ Harriet said. ‘It’s unpleasant, but it’s something you must learn to face. And we are here, as your friends, to help you do that. Isn’t that right, children?’
‘Yes, Miss Watson,’ the blank faces chanted glumly and in unison.
20
Three Years Earlier
Toni
The estate agency was spacious and bright inside, and the layout was more or less exactly as I’d expected. There were four desks dotted around the large shop with an agent sitting at one of them, currently dealing with customers. I looked back at the windows and found that, just like my last office in Hemel, I could barely see out onto the street due to the property posters that were dotted over the entire glass frontage.
Not wanting to interrupt the busy agent, and having arrived ten minutes early, I pretended to be absorbed in looking through the available lettings folders. The shop was warm because of all the glass and I felt a trickle of perspiration snaking down my back.
I leafed blindly through the property details, wondering what Evie was doing in class. I hoped she was having fun making new friends and settling in well.
‘Can I help you?’
A tall, athletic-looking man in his late thirties came striding towards me. He had on a smart brown suit, cream shirt without a tie and, crowning it all, a shock of bright red and somewhat unruly hair. The result of this rather eclectic mix was unexpectedly attractive.
‘Toni Cotter.’ I held out my hand. ‘I’m here for the interview. I’m afraid I’m a bit early.’
‘Ahh yes, of course. Toni.’ He smiled and his green eyes creased up until I could barely see them. Close up, his face was a mass of freckles so dense, it looked like he had a patchy tan. ‘I’m the owner, Dale Gregory. Really pleased to meet you.’
We shook hands and I pasted on a smile, trying to remember how I used to act when I had confidence in my abilities.
‘If you’d like to come through, I’ll introduce you to Bryony James, our residential sales and lettings manager.’ He turned back and smiled at me as he walked. ‘Just the two of us interviewing you today, Toni. All very informal, so nothing to worry about.’
Did I look so obviously terrified? I actually felt slightly better. I liked Dale and the friendly atmosphere of the place was reassuring. I even dared to think that I could probably imagine myself working here.
If I could only get this job, it would be such a massive step forward for both me and Evie.
* * *
Dale led me through the shop and into a short, cooler hallway at the back that was lined with four doors. Dale pushed open the one that was already ajar.
A woman wearing an immaculate black suit and crisp white linen blouse, who I assumed was Bryony James, sat scrolling through property details on a tablet on one side of a large conference table that took up most of the space in the room.
Her jet-black hair fell in front of her face like a straight and glossy curtain. Her nails were long and oval and painted in the fashionable new slate-grey shade that I’d seen in the expensive fashion magazines I often leafed through on the shelves at the supermarket.
I bent my own short and bitten nails in towards my palms and pressed them to my sides.
‘Here we are. Please, take a seat, Toni.’
As Dale walked around the far side of the table to sit next to Bryony, she glanced up at him and smiled. I tried to catch her eye to smile too, but she looked back down again to flick off her screen.
I sat opposite them and waited while Dale turned off his phone and Bryony opened her notepad. At the side of her, I recognised a printed copy of the application form and CV I’d emailed over on Friday and I swallowed hard.
Bryony had small, pinched features that were set just a tad too close together on her face, leaving her forehead and cheeks appearing a little too wide to be beautiful.
Something about the way she repeatedly straightened her notepad, pen and tablet made me wonder if she always subconsciously made amends for this physical flaw by ensuring that everything else about her and around her looked nothing less than perfect.
The characterless room was small and airless and my previously loose jacket had started to feel tight and constrictive across my back and under my arms.
I jutted out my bottom lip and blew my fringe away from my sticky face.
Bryony choose this exact moment to make eye contact for the first time. She appraised me coolly and didn’t return my harried smile.
Dale introduced himself again and turned to her.
‘As I mentioned, this is Bryony James, our residential sales and lettings manager. If you’re successful, Bryony will be your line manager.’
I smiled again and nodded to Bryony, who simply pressed her narrow lips into a tight line by way of a compromise against remaining completely sour-faced.
Dale laced his fingers together on the desk in front of him and leaned forward slightly.
‘So, why don’t you start by telling us a little bit about yourself, Toni, and why you’ve applied for the position?’
I started off well, giving a quick resume of my education and career to date. I was careful not to dwell on my senior position at the last agency and I made sure I retained eye contact with them both as I spoke.
‘You don’t have a degree?’ Bryony remarked.
‘No, I finished my formal education at A levels,’ I said. ‘From there, I worked my way up.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Dale said cheerfully. ‘Shows substance.’
‘I notice there are a couple of gaps in your CV.’ Bryony glanced down at her copy of my application. ‘Five years ago there seems to be a year missing and then it looks like you haven’t been working for the last couple of years at all. Fancy a bit of a break from selling property, did you?’
A flare of resentment spiked in my chest.
Actually, Little Miss Know-It-All, I’ve worked bloody hard these last two years, I wanted to say. Harder than I’ve worked in my life. Just to stay sane and get through the crap.
‘Five years ago, I took twelve months maternity leave when I had my daughter, Evie,’ I said, and wondered if I’d imagined the wisp of disapproval that appeared to flit over her face. ‘And two years ago, I had to stop working for personal reasons.’
I’d already considered how I was going to handle Andrew’s death if it came up in conversation. I’d decided I didn’t want to discuss it in an interview situation; it just didn’t seem right and I’d put myself at risk of getting emotional.
‘Personal reasons?’ Bryony raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I had no choice but to stop working temporarily.’
‘Go on.’
‘Circumstances were out of my control at that point in time but happily my situation has now changed.’
How many different ways did she want me to say it?