and I have a lot of loyal clients. But I don’t know my competition well enough to know who might be capable of such a horrible thing.
Nathan isn’t going to be happy. He’s suggested a couple of times that I might want to use an accountant, but I reassured him that I’m more than capable of doing my own books. He seemed okay with it. Respected my decision. But maybe Nathan was right. A professional might have prevented this distress. There’s also another reason why I haven’t used an accountant, but I push that thought away. It’ll be fine, I tell myself for the millionth time.
The streets are busier at this time of the morning, with commuters heading to work on foot and by bike and car, people walking their dogs, and parents on the school run, pushing prams and calling after kids on scooters. I pass Kelly’s road and have a sudden yearning to call in on her unannounced. To sit in her tatty but welcoming kitchen and have a gossip about everyday things. To forget all about my current situation. To have a laugh like back when we were kids. Before life got in the way. I wish I could turn back the clock…
I realise that wishing and moping aren’t going to get me anywhere, so I pick up my pace, square my shoulders and try to be positive. Nothing bad has actually happened yet. I might be stressing over nothing.
Normally, when I reach the main road and see the name Salinger’s above my showroom windows, my heart lifts and I can’t wait to start my day. However, this morning it inspires a renewed feeling of dread. A sinking stone in my stomach. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. I say the words over and over again in my head. Willing them to be true.
I cross the road and take the keys out of my handbag. At least I’ll have a short while on my own before Molly and the tax inspectors arrive. I’m looking forward to firing up the coffee machine and sitting in my office.
As I reach the pavement, from the corner of my eye I notice two people get out of a silver Volkswagen Passat that’s parked further up the road in one of the parking bays. It’s a man and woman. They’re dressed in grey suits, and my whole body tightens in frustration. It’s Cathleen bloody Docherty and John Whatshisface from the tax office. I check my watch and see that the time is only ten past eight. They said they’d be back in at nine. Nine. It’s not nine.
They’re heading my way. I try to calm down. Maybe they’re going to go for breakfast first. Act friendly, breezy. I can’t let them see my annoyance.
‘Morning!’ I call out through a fake smile. I insert the key in the lock and open the door, stepping inside to disable the alarm, then turning back to them.
‘Good morning,’ John says.
Cathleen gives a perfunctory nod.
‘You’re nice and early.’ My voice is chirpy, like a children’s TV presenter.
‘We like to beat the traffic,’ John replies. ‘We didn’t think you’d be in until nine. But we may as well get started now you’re here.’
‘Sure, sure. Come in.’ They follow me through to the showroom. ‘I woke up early myself, so thought I may as well get to work. You’ll want the office again, right?’
‘Please.’ John nods.
‘Or…’ I try to sound nonchalant. ‘There’s a great breakfast place down the road if you’d rather come back at nine. Their full English is legendary.’
‘That’s okay,’ Cathleen says. ‘We have a lot of work to get through, so we’d rather make a start.’
‘Of course.’ I’m suddenly embarrassed by my crass attempt to get rid of them for a while. They’ve probably seen it all before. I need to try to accept that they’re going to be in my face for the foreseeable future. The sooner I get used to it, the easier it will be, right? I should have stayed at home for longer. I could have sat and stared at the lake. Tried to get into a better frame of mind. Now it’s going to be an even longer day than usual. And I get the feeling that John and Cathleen aren’t the type to knock off early. They’ll be here for as long as I am.
‘We’ll head on into the office,’ John says, following Cathleen, who’s already through the office door.