Those times had been rare. Holly hadn’t enjoyed a close relationship with her mother.
Since Holly had been about ten years old, alcohol had been Julie’s number one priority. With the worsening drink problem, the little girl had never known what was coming next.
There were sometimes strange men in the house, in the bedroom with Julie. Little Holly had stood at the door and listened to the giggles and moans of pleasure, and wondered why her mother had instructed her to stay downstairs in the cold living room on her own.
Other times, Julie had been very ill and Holly had had no choice but to mop up diarrhoea and vomit all night long.
Consequently she had always felt happier and more secure when she’d been on her own. Still, she’d often grieved her skewed view of the mother–daughter relationship.
She’d overhear the girls at school talking about enjoying a shopping day or going out for lunch with their mothers, and it stung. Holly had never known how that felt.
Aunt Susan had been sympathetic on the rare occasions Holly had got upset in front of her, and now, as she sat clutching the scrap of lace-edged cotton to her face, she felt a pang of loss at the thought of having left her aunt so abruptly.
She only allowed herself a moment of such sentimental indulgence, though, swiftly reminding herself that she shouldn’t get sucked in to reinventing her time with her aunt and uncle as a cosy family atmosphere.
The reality was that during the daytime, she’d been as miserable as sin at school, at the mercy of the mean girls there, but she’d still felt more at home – and certainly safer – in the school library and even the park than she had in the house alone with creepy Keith.
When her aunt finally got home from work in the evenings, Holly had to pretend everything was fine, because it was painfully clear that Susan would always refuse to contemplate that her husband could possibly be anything but decent.
Tomorrow, she reminded herself, a fresh new start would await her.
Beside her, Markus let out a soft snore. She’d decided not to bother waking him in an hour’s time, as they’d agreed. She’d realised there was no way she could manage even a second of shut-eye in this godforsaken place, and there was no sense in them both staying awake all night.
If Markus got some rest, Holly had reasoned, he’d hopefully rise refreshed and ready to sort out some alternative arrangements for their accommodation tomorrow evening.
She was yet to find out exactly what her new opportunity might be, but whatever she was offered, she’d already decided she had to take it.
She honestly didn’t care what she would be doing, so long as it was legal and she made some money. She longed to get some independence back.
Back then, that had seemed to be the most important thing.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holly
After lunch, a wealthy-looking middle-aged couple entered the store. Holly watched in amazement as Emily sprang into action like a newly wound clockwork toy.
She sashayed across the shop, her arms extended before her as though greeting dear long-lost friends.
‘Mr and Mrs Fenwick,’ she announced dramatically, sweeping by salesman Ben Dixon, who for a moment or two had looked in danger of getting to the customers before her. ‘It’s been far too long!’
Quickly tiring of watching a newly energised Emily air-kissing her customers and assuring them how well they looked, Holly opened the large cardboard box in front of her and carefully peeled away the masses of bubble wrap to reveal an exquisite black glass Lalique vase.
She gently fingered the tiny, almost translucent pale pink glass flowers that dotted the lip of the vase and then cascaded down one shoulder. It was truly one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
‘And how’s dear Willem doing at boarding school?’ Holly tuned back in to Emily’s impressive performance as she gently dusted off the vase. ‘They’re so lucky to have him, little genius that he is. You must be so proud.’
Holly allowed herself a small cynical smile, noting that her endlessly irritated colleague could convincingly morph into Miss Personality when the mood took her.
It also didn’t escape Holly’s notice that the whole time Emily was oohing and aahing at the digital photographs of the Fenwicks’ amazing break in Milan on Mrs Fenwick’s phone, she was steadily leading them, inch by inch, towards the front of the shop, where the brand-new range of gold-plated feather boa lamps had been displayed.
Without noticing her ploy, the Fenwicks followed, continuing to loudly gush over every detail of their fabulous lives since their last visit to the store.
Holly even felt a grudging respect for Emily. Whatever she might think of her as a colleague, there was no doubt at all that she was extremely good at her job.
She carefully placed the vase on the special marble pedestal stand that Josh had brought over to display it at its best. She swallowed hard when she saw the tiny white price sticker that would be concealed by its base.
Two thousand pounds. For what amounted to a fancy piece of glass, for goodness’ sake! Yes, it was beyond beautiful, but it occurred to her that in the real world, that amount would cover some people’s rent or mortgage payments for months.
Following Josh’s earlier instructions, she clicked the silky black security rope in place in front of the pedestal. They used it purely for show, to discourage customers from getting too close to the most fragile pieces.
‘Now, I’ve something special to share with you.’ Emily’s voice dropped lower, but fortunately Holly was well within eavesdropping range. ‘As soon as I saw these divine lamps, I thought of you. I shouldn’t really tell you this, but…’ she glanced around, apparently to ensure nobody else was listening, ‘we only have the two lamps in. They’re limited-edition stock direct from the exclusive Haus of Rome, and as you can imagine, they’re like gold dust to source.’
Holly noted Emily’s meaningful pause before her killer finish.
‘They’re retailing at twelve hundred each, or as a special deal, I can do the pair for just two thousand pounds.’
The extortionate price tag elicited a snort from Mr Fenwick, but his wife remained entranced by the convincing sales patter.
‘However, there’s good news,’ Emily continued smoothly. ‘I’ve had special clearance from Mr Kellington himself to offer them to you, my best clients, for a mere eighteen hundred the pair.’ She flashed an excited smile, as if she could barely believe the bargain she’d been able to extend to them.
‘I don’t know,’ Mr Fenwick said doubtfully. ‘Perhaps we’ll have a look around before we make a decision and—’
Emily cut in as if he’d never spoken.
‘I immediately thought of you because I know how much Mrs Fenwick loves her black-and-gold colour scheme in the lounge. I can almost picture them there myself.’
‘You’re so right, Emily!’ Mrs Fenwick clapped her hands together and turned to her husband. ‘Oh darling, they’d go so perfectly in there.’
‘We already own more fancy lamps than you can shake a stick at,’ her husband growled. ‘The house’ll be in danger of resembling Blackpool illuminations soon.’
‘But I could take out those Tiffany-style lamps we’ve had for a while and put the new ones in their place.’
‘I don’t know, Amanda. These lamps are very expensive, and—’
‘Look, I’m probably going to get in trouble for doing this,’ Emily confided. ‘But what if I could do them for sixteen hundred the pair? They’re so exclusive, they’re probably the only two in the whole of the East Midlands right now. I’d hate you to miss out.’
There was a beat or two of tense silence.
‘You know, darling, I just don’t think I can go home without them,’ Mrs Fenwick simpered, leaning in to her husband. ‘And sixteen hundred… well, it’s a bargain.’
‘Oh, go on then.’ He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. ‘You two just tie me up in knots every time I come in here.’