My Naughty Little Secret (3 page)

On Monday morning, James called a meeting with Myra and me. There had been an incident in the ladies’ washroom and one of the staff members had slipped on some water and broken her wrist. He’d had a tipoff that it wasn’t an accident and was likely to end up in an insurance claim. He wanted me to start investigating and asked what we should do. I felt I was being tested and I was only a wet week in the job.

I hadn’t handled anything like this before and I was desperately trying to recall anything from my studies that might be helpful. Myra stayed quiet, leaving it to me to come up with the answers and I knew for sure then that it
was
a test. In hindsight I know why, but back then, in my ignorance, it was just daunting. I didn’t know if I was on the right track or if I was making an eejit of myself. Obviously I must have said something right.

“Ok, good, it’s your baby,” James smiled reassuringly, “but don’t be afraid to ask for help, and Myra’ll oversee it to make sure you’re happy.”

I left the office feeling I’d just passed my Leaving Certificate again; the sense of relief was enormous. Hell, this was a world away from my last job; it was sink or swim and hands on all the way, just what I wanted.

* * *

The weather was really wet and gloomy on Friday and it was the wrong sort of rain for British Rail, so the tubes were running late. I was dressed in the shop uniform of a bottle-green shift dress and short matching jacket. I scaled the steps to the store hurriedly, trying to dodge the rain, when someone ran round the corner and knocked me flat. All I could see coming at me was a pair of trousers under an umbrella. As I went crashing to my behind, I could hear a mild expletive and an apology. My immediate reaction was anger.

“Christ, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” a voice said. As the umbrella fell to the ground, I could see the shock on Michael’s face as he realised that he had knocked someone over. Then the look of recognition. Then the embarrassment, both his and mine. Within a matter of moments his face had shown several degrees of horror, and in spite of feeling foolish about being on my bum on the wet step, I started to laugh. He bent down and took my arm to help me up. The concern and guilt on his face were totally out of character. He made to brush me down and then obviously thought better of it. For once he was the one embarrassed and blushing as he held the door open for me. It actually felt quite good to see him unsettled for a change.

“I’m really sorry, Siobhan,” he apologised again as we entered the building. “I was running late, my flight was delayed last night, and I’m all over the place, I should have been paying more attention.”

“So should I,” I agreed. “Damn tubes couldn’t handle the rain, so I was late and rushing too. You’d think by now they’d have invented tubes that could take the wet tracks; it’s not like it’s rare around here. No harm done except to my pride. I’ll just go to the ladies’ and tidy myself up a bit. I’m on shop floor…” Stop blabbing, Siobhan, I told myself crossly.

I could see him look at me properly for the first time and I knew he was worried I wouldn’t look fit for shop duty after the fall. As he did, he registered the uniform and, most unexpectedly, he smiled warmly.

“You know, green really is your colour; you should wear it more often.”

Crikey, were my ears deceiving me? I was flummoxed. Maybe he got a bump to the head when he crashed into me? Then he must’ve realised how inappropriate his comment was, because he quickly muttered an apology and legged it over to the floor manager.

It was then I noticed he was in uniform too. Nice ass, I thought as he was moving forward. I hadn’t noticed that before. I followed him and we both got our instructions for the morning; he was for men’s wear, I was for ladies’ wear. I made my apologies to the floor manager and went to tidy up a bit.

Fridays were always busy in ladies’ wear in Banbury’s. Attending this department were two witty, professional ladies in their late forties. On his daily rounds, James welcomed me to the floor and encouraged me to try to learn as much as I could from Gloria and Kate, his best salespeople.

I soon got to see just how good they were. They had the knack of being visible but not intrusive, and had the customers eating out of their hands. A couple of minutes later, they would have several suitable outfits picked out. They were quite a double act. One did the talking, the other did the fetching, and they both shared in the “oohs” and “aahs.”

They went through the brands with me and taught me a little about colour matching. Then Gloria pulled out a red evening gown, strapless with a fitted bodice and the skirt floaty and feminine, and told me I had to try it. I objected; redheads shouldn’t wear red, but they challenged me to come back next week on my break.

At noon I finished up and went for lunch as I was to be in home wares at one p.m. There were quite a few people there as lunchtime was staggered to keep the store open. I saw Michael sitting by himself and was astounded when he invited me to join him by indicating the free chair opposite him.

“Hi,” I said, smiling warily.

“Hi, are you ok after the fall, any bruises?”

“Ach, there’s not a bother on me, don’t worry. How was men’s wear?”

“To be honest, it’s been boring, we’ve had only one customer all morning. I’m in home wares this afternoon. Maybe that will be better.”

“Oh, me too,” I said, “but I’m sorry to leave ladies’ fashions. I really liked the two women.”

Very soon he reminded me it was time for house wares. It was only ten to one, for pity’s sake, and we didn’t have to cross the city… To my surprise, he waited for me to finish my food, even though he was watching the clock as each minute crawled by. Christ on a bike! He really needed a week in Ireland to learn how to chill.

That afternoon I got to study him properly at work. The first thing I noticed was how many questions he asked. I knew that as head of buying, he had to be familiar with all of the products, but holy hell, he was obsessive—it was only a job at the end of the day. I finally realised the long hours he put in were because he was ambitious, and maybe, dare I say it, a little insecure of his brilliance.

The other thing I noticed was that he was always watching me. As usual, my natural defiance kicked into touch. I assumed I was offending him in some way, be it my unkempt appearance or my unpolished Irish manner. I wasn’t a bit sorry when five p.m. rolled around. I wanted to get away from his cool and, no doubt, unflattering attention.

I was glad to have survived my second week. My misgivings about James now seemed to be unfounded. Apart from his test on Monday, we had barely crossed paths and when we did his behaviour was never inappropriate, slightly over-friendly perhaps, like an exuberant Labrador, but I had soon learned that he was like that with others, men and women. I happily picked up my bag and headed for the tube and the weekend.

Early on Saturday morning the doorbell rang and Tara answered it. She came in holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Whose heart did you break this time?” I asked, laughing. This was a fairly frequent occurrence.

“They’re for you, Shiv.”

“Cop on to yourself, who’d send me flowers?”

“D’you want me to read this and find out?” she teased, waving the card. After a bit of a scuffle, she finally handed it over.

“Sorry, hope you’re ok, Michael.”

I was spitting mad. Where did he get my address? My phone number I would have understood, it was on an emergency contact list, but my address should have been private. Myra? James? I couldn’t tell. The one thing I
was
sure of was that Michael Henrii was becoming a major source of irritation in my life.

Chapter Three

Monday was a bit awkward. I spent the day looking around corners, trying to dodge Michael. I was way too mad to confront him. Luckily I was up to my tonsils in work, too busy to stop for lunch or indeed keep my appointment with Kate and Gloria. On Tuesday I came out of my office and met him head on. I’d calmed down enough not to have a hissy fit, but I almost choked as I thanked him for the flowers. He’d become a dangerous obsession; I thought about him as I woke up and as I went to bed and several times in between. In truth I was even dreaming about him. I still told myself that it was because he bugged me. But I couldn’t really define it, it was like a morbid fascination; he drew me and repulsed me in almost equal measure.

I was really irritable all morning; why had I not confronted him? So distracted was I that I almost forgot about trying on that dress again. I went down to ladies’ fashions. I had to admit, Gloria was right, it was amazing. The soft floating silk clung to me in all the right places and the rich red added colour to my pale Irish complexion. I felt wonderful in it. I came out of the changing room to show the women.

“See, I told you,” Gloria said smugly.

“Oh, save it for the paying customers,” I said shyly. “Even with the staff discount I can’t afford this, it’s fifteen hundred quid!”

“Look at your man, that new fellah, what’s his name, with his gob open—he obviously thinks it looks great too,” Gloria said, pointing towards the shop floor.

I turned around to see Michael walking through the store with a Subway bag in hand. He was literally stopped in mid-stride, staring at me. Damn him, he always caught me on the hop. I scurried into the changing room to put back on my work clothes. When I came out, Michael had disappeared, but Gloria and Kate were still laughing.

Several times after that I bumped into him. It seemed there was no escape from my mortification. He still looked me up and down, but he was more inclined to make small talk, sometimes even stopping by my office for no obvious reason. By Friday, I wasn’t terribly surprised to see him in the staff canteen before me. If I wasn’t so sure he disapproved of me, I would have thought he was waiting for me as his eyes were trained on the door as I came in. I still wasn’t sure what to make of him, but I was gone past anger or intimidation and readily accepted the proffered seat. In the middle of chatting about work, out of the blue, he said something that nearly sent me flying off my chair.

“Siobhan, I’d like to take you out this weekend.”

I spluttered on a mouthful of water. Fuck! I really didn’t know what to think. It was a statement, not an invitation or a request. Was I even permitted a say in it?

I hated him and yet I wanted him. He scared me, but he excited me. But the bottom line was if I went out with him this weekend, I’d still have to face him on Monday, and he was one of the managers. I meant to say no, I really did. But somehow the words that came out of my mouth were:

“Sure, I’d love to.”

I don’t know who said them, but I’d almost swear on my life, even to this day, that it wasn’t me. I hoped my voice and face were showing less shock than I felt. My heart was pounding and I wouldn’t have been surprised if Michael could hear it from where he was sitting. I was almost wondering, had it really happened or had I been hallucinating?

It took him a second to register my reply and it dawned on me that he hadn’t intended to ask me out either. He seemed as stunned as I was. There was this awkward pause where both of us seemed to be wondering what to say or do next. Michael was first to recover control.

“What do you enjoy doing, Siobhan?” he asked.

“Oh, I dunno; theatre, cinema, and nice food. I love sightseeing, even just going to a pub in the city, clubbing…” I blurted, not even sure what I was saying. I just seemed to need to talk…to fill up that void of disbelief…

“Give me your number and I’ll organise a surprise. I’ll call you tonight and arrange a time to pick you up,” he said in his demanding way.

“I think you probably already have my number. And while we’re on the subject, where did you get my address?” I asked tetchily. For one brief moment there, in my astonishment, I had almost forgotten the real Michael. But the spell was broken by the mention of the phone number. I’d find out how he’d gotten that information somehow.

“Oh…” he said suddenly, touching my arm. Had he changed his mind already? And maybe it might be for the best. “…I almost forgot; would you prefer to go out tomorrow or Sunday?”

An unexpected relief washed over me and I was aware of the pleasant sensation where his hand was on my arm. Strangely, I was in no hurry for him to let go. Now,
that
was unanticipated. And it seemed I did have some sort of say in it; I could pick the day. Well, lucky me!

“Tomorrow any time after lunch.”

I didn’t want the weekend worrying about it. Unfortunately his excuse for touching me seemed to have expired and he removed his hand. Somehow I felt bereft, yearning for his fingers.

Every time I saw Michael that afternoon, he seemed to be looking at me pensively. I wondered if he was regretting asking me out. For starters, he was a department head; there was always a risk that his invitation could be misconstrued. And I’d no idea if the store had any policy on interpersonal relationships. I’d say it was the least constructive day he’d ever spent in his life because he seemed to be doing naff all except thinking and staring through his open door whenever I walked past.

The rest of the day was spent in wishing it away, partly because I hated being under his scrutiny, but also because I had to prepare and think about what to wear. Of course I couldn’t really decide that until he’d made some arrangements. A surprise date might seem exciting and romantic, but on a practical level, it was a pain in the arse.

During the coffee break I nipped down to the lingerie department and bought that underwear I’d seen at my interview. Home time eventually crawled around and as I was making my way out, having picked up my bag, Michael was walking back towards his office.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he promised with a wink.

Bloody hell, I thought, did I just imagine it or did Michael Henrii just wink at me? I didn’t know he had it in him to be playful.

“Ok, catch you later,” I said, hoping I’d hit a nonchalant note.

I was on high dough as I fought my way through the Friday evening commuter mayhem. I was hardly aware of the pushing and shoving that usually irritated the hell out of me. Michael’s face was in front of me and my arm still seemed to glow from his touch.