The Old Lighthouse in Sunny Shore Bay (Sunny Shore Bay Book 8): Escape to the British seaside with t

Chapter Eighteen

‘So, to recap,’ Erin shakes the stack of papers in her hands in a rather haughty manner and clears her throat. ‘Cassandra takes an Americano with cream, no sugar, each morning coupled with an almond pastry. You can find both of these at the Spicy Bean. Do you need directions?’

‘No, it’s fine, I go to that coffee shop all the time -’

‘Great. So you’ll need to pick that up before work and bring it to her desk. Got it?’

Feeling chastised, I give a single nod in response. ‘Got it.’

What’s going on here? I thought I was going to get to work with gorgeous fabrics, sewing them into all sorts of wonderful designs, but instead, I’m being pushed around by this snooty girl ten years my junior. Cassandra’s former assistant doesn’t do small talk, it seems - she’s all business and straight to the point, and in a weird way, I sort of admire her for that. I mean, if she were a man, no one would have a problem with it, would they? That’s the thing about being a woman, everyone expects you to be nice and agreeable and simply roll your eyes and cluck your tongue at casual sexism. It’s quite refreshing to see a young woman subverting those archaic expectations. Still, she could stand to be a little friendlier, since it’s my first day and all.

Cassandra swans in at half-past nine, carrying her own coffee and a brown bag which I presume contains the aforementioned all-important almond pastry.

‘Morning, guys!’ she greets us both with a sunny grin.

Erin and I chorus back our salutations, and I approach her desk warily.

‘Is there anything in particular you want me to work on today, Cassandra?’ I ask, my voice coming out much more timid than I’d expected. ‘Erin has already talked me through the computer system, you know, how to set up appointments, that sort of thing.’

‘Ah, yes. First of all, welcome to Cassi Queen! I really hope you enjoy your trial today and if all goes well, I look forward to making you a permanent part of our team.’ She beams at me so brightly, I can’t help but smile back. ‘If you have any questions, either Erin or myself will be happy to answer them. We’re pretty relaxed here.’

Are you sure about that? Erin over there seems like she’s got a permanent stick shoved up where the sun doesn’t shine!

‘That’s great to know, Cassandra.’ I clutch my floral-patterned notebook to my chest like a kid on her first day of school. ‘Thank you.’

‘Now, the first task I’d like to set you on is monitoring Erin’s emails. She’s going to be working on sample production all day, so she needs a bit of help with her correspondence. I’ll set you up with a laptop and login details.’

My smile wavers as take down notes. I was really hoping to get stuck in with the fabrics, but I suppose an assistant has many duties, including admin. ‘Great.’

‘Also, we’ve got some models coming in this afternoon, we’re shooting our new collection and I’d like you to assist me in the studio.’

I lose my grip on the fluffy pen in my hand and it drops to the hardwood floor with a clatter. ‘M-me?’

Cassandra chuckles. ‘Well, you are here to work, aren’t you?’

My chest puffed out, I stand tall and proud. ‘I sure am!’

‘Well, I like the enthusiasm!’ With a swish of her silk skirt, she rises from her desk and places a hand on my shoulder. ‘I have a feeling you’re going to fit in great around here, Claire.’

Spurred on by the anticipation of this afternoon’s shoot, I power through Erin’s inbox with ease, typing out emails with professional flair. I tackle them so quickly that I have time to update Cassandra’s schedule, copying the new appointments scribbled on post-it notes by the telephone into the digital calendar.

At twelve-thirty, Cassandra heads out for a luncheon with a client while Erin and I adjourn to the break room. This morning when I packed Penny’s lunch for school, I prepared myself a twin one - cheese and cucumber sandwiches, a Granny Smith apple, a strawberry yoghurt and a little chocolate bar as a treat. I also brought a small flask filled with orange squash which might seem a little childish, but it’s surprisingly refreshing after a morning of putting one’s nose to the grindstone.

Erin, of course, has a terribly fashionable lunch of sushi and a drink that apparently is a wheat-grass smoothie, but if you ask me, it looks suspiciously like pond scum.

‘So, how long have you worked for Cassandra?’ I turn to my colleague.

Erin chews her salmon skin roll thoughtfully, hazel eyes cast up to the high ceiling. ‘Hm, almost two years now. I was an intern, but started working full-time for her after I graduated this summer.’

‘You must be really dedicated to do all that alongside your degree,’ I say. ‘I studied fashion design at university too, but I gave it up.’

‘Why?’

The question throws me, as I don’t really have a sufficient answer. The simple one is that I got married, but that just raises even more questions. Why did I give up my dreams just because I became a wife? Why did I think that was a normal thing to do?

‘It’s … kind of complicated. Involving my ex and stuff.’

Erin raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘Hm, it sounds rather complicated. But I’m of the opinion that nothing and no one should stand in the way of your goals, and since this person is now an ex, it looks like there’s nothing holding you back now.’

As she picks up her chopsticks and tucks into her lunch, I throw a small smile her way. She’s a lot less uptight once you get her away from the pattern-cutting table and her computer.

‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right.’

Shortly after lunch, the models arrive, each one more gorgeous and depressingly skinny than the last. However, I set my self-esteem aside and lead them to the studio space, offering drinks and taking coats as needed.

The photographer gets stuck in straight away, snapping away and directing the girls with the discipline of a drill sergent. Cassandra gets involved too, taking her role of creative director very seriously. And me, well I prep the garment rail to make for quick outfit changes and help the models with fiddly zips and buttons. I even steam the clothes in between shots to ensure everything looks perfect and pristine.

Being on the set of a photo shoot is a lot less glamorous than it appears in magazines or glossy catalogues - the reality includes a lot of boob tape to keep the clothes in place, and plenty of plasters to prevent nasty blisters from uncomfy high heels - but I love it. The fashions, the poses, the fast pace, it’s all so exciting. And somehow, it feels right that I’m here, like I’ve finally found my place. I can banter with the photographer and keep the models happy, all while getting the job done. Though there’s not a moment to relax, I’m completely content.

It takes us up to the end of the day, but the photo shoot finally concludes. I show everyone out and start tidying the studio, rolling up the backdrop and sorting the clothes back into their closet spaces.

While I’m in the middle of carefully steaming the silk dresses, I hear Cassandra’s voice call out.

‘Claire.’ She beckons me with a French-manicured finger. ‘Would you come into my office, please?’

And suddenly, I’ve regressed to my school-girl days, shuffling to the headmistress’ office, terrified of what punishment might await me.

Luckily, Cassandra’s office is nothing like my old schoolmaster’s, quite the opposite, in fact. The space is as eclectic as her designs - unique and colourful with pale furnishings and sage green walls, finished with accents of gold reflected through her copious knick-knacks displayed on the shelves. There’s something very approachable about it, from the cheerful palette to the plush velvet seat she invites me to sit on. Still, the nerves creep over my skin like insects as I hold my breath for her verdict.

‘I’m very pleased with your efforts today, Claire,’ she begins. ‘You took real initiative this morning after you completed Erin’s tasks, that’s something I greatly admire.’

Modestly, I bow my head. ‘Well, thanks.’

‘And you were a natural at the shoot, you knew just how to handle the models. Being a people person is a skill that’s hard to teach, you’ve either got it or you don’t, and it seems as though you do.’

‘I’m glad you think so, because I so enjoyed it!’

Cassandra smiles. ‘I could tell. For someone who hasn’t had a full-time job before, you have a very good work ethic. Which is why I would like to offer you a permanent position as my assistant. It will be three days a week to begin with, but after six months, we might look at increasing the hours.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ Tossing all sense of decorum out of the window, I lean across the marble desk and hug her tight. ‘Thank you, thank you so much!’

‘You’re very welcome.’ Cassandra gives me a somewhat awkward pat on the back and laughs. ‘We’re delighted to have you as a part of the team. I’m sure you’ll bring a fresh … energy to the place!’

I can hardly believe it - after years of thinking my career in fashion was nothing more than a pipe dream, I’m finally back on track. It’s as if I’m floating high above the clouds, and my previous worries and troubles are but a distant memory beneath my feet.

Nothing could bring me down now, absolutely nothing!