curtain material. She wants you to go over with the swatches. But I can go instead, if you like? And the Carmichaels have rescheduled next weekend’s appointment. I told them a week tomorrow at three is fine. Hope that’s okay?’ She’s being surprisingly helpful and perky. In fact, Molly’s been acting like a different person all morning, humming and walking around with a bounce in her step and generally being super-helpful.
‘Sounds good.’ I peer over her shoulder at today’s schedule. ‘Yes, if you could go over to Marion’s that would be a real help. She lives up at—’
‘It’s okay, I’ve got her address. Milham Drive, out by the lake.’
‘That’s right. She’ll probably want to go for the voile, but steer her towards something heavier – she’ll thank me once winter hits.’
‘No problem.’
I think that’s the first time Molly’s ever said ‘no problem’ to me. How come she isn’t always like this? I would have loved to work with this Molly. I guess she’s excited about her pregnancy and upcoming wedding. Although, call me cynical, she also said she wants to carry on working once she’s settled into her new town and had the baby, so she’ll be needing a good reference from me. That’s possibly the most likely reason for her sudden turnaround in attitude.
Well, I shouldn’t complain. At least I’ll have a willing assistant for the next four weeks. After that, who knows? I should probably start advertising for someone new, but I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much else going on that finding a new employee is the least of my worries. I slope reluctantly back into the showroom, glancing across at my two biggest problems – namely Cathleen and John. I wonder again if Molly might be the reason they’re here. Would she really be that vindictive; to jeopardise my whole career just because I can be a bit of a hard-ass at work?
Cathleen and John are still beavering away in my office, periodically calling me in to answer questions about various transactions and receipts. Thank goodness I’ve been efficient at filing things away properly. But that still doesn’t stop my stomach lurching in fear every time one of them pops their head out of the door to speak to me, worrying about what they may have stumbled across. So far, there have been no nasty surprises. Touch wood.
As expected, they commandeered my office all day yesterday, leaving work at the same time as me. I even stayed a bit later than usual in the hope that they’d knock off at five and I could have some time to myself, but they showed no sign of departing until I did. Consequently, I went home and then returned an hour later to have a snoop. I was paranoid they’d be camped outside the showroom waiting to catch me out, but there was no sign of them or their car. I don’t know what I expected to find in there, but my nose around the office didn’t yield anything. I wasn’t really that surprised. It’s inevitable that they’d keep all their notes on their laptops and not lying around for me to discover.
Molly bustles into the showroom, distracting me from my thoughts. ‘Okay, that’s all the messages answered, and your appointments are all up to date. You don’t have any appointments today until your meeting with Kay Clarke at four.’
‘Who?’
‘You know, she’s that local furniture maker who emailed asking to talk to you.’
‘Oh, yeah, I remember. That’s great, Molly. Thanks.’
‘Is there anything else you want me to do before I get on with sorting out the curtain swatches?’
I almost want to laugh at Molly’s new helpful persona. Can’t she see how absurd this is after her complete apathy and indifference to the job? We both turn at the sound of the main door opening.
‘Hello! Anyone around? Fifi, you here?’
Ugh, I recognise that voice.
‘Want me to speak to him?’ Molly asks, continuing to be uncharacteristically helpful. ‘I could tell him you’re not here, if you like?’
I can’t say I’m not tempted to take her up on her offer. ‘No, it’s fine. He’ll keep coming back to bug me if I don’t see him now.’ Taking a deep breath, I leave the showroom and walk into reception with a tired smile. ‘Hello, Paul.’
In his late forties, Paul Barton is sporting a blue-check shirt, chinos and loafers, a bit of a change from his usual white coat. ‘Fifi, you’ve been avoiding me. Don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking