Chapter 25
Casey glanced down at the high street below and swallowed hard.
The leaded windows in the attic stockrooms were small with thick time-mottled panes of glass that distorted the view outside, but there was no mistaking the long line of people snaking along the building and around the corner.
There was still an hour before the store closed for Sam and Liz’s book event, but the crowd had been gathering since four o’clock.
She whistled out a breath, anxiety high in her throat.
She’d been scheduled to start early today of all days because there’d been an extra-large stock delivery to satisfy the demands of the Christmas shoppers and it needed sorting and logging into the system.
She finished counting the new towel bales and typed their number into a spreadsheet on her work tablet.
There was a knock on the door and Casey opened it to find Ajay smiling at her.
“Hey,” she said, “this is a nice surprise. What brings you to my attic rooms?”
He flashed her a grin before quickly checking behind him to make sure there was no one else in the corridor and stepped over the threshold, pushing the door shut with his boot. “Police,” he said, pulling her to him. “Don’t try to resist.”
“I am all compliance,” she said breathlessly before he pressed his mouth to hers.
The protruding buckles and pockets on his stab vest dug into her, but the lingering kiss he planted on her lips sent a thrill straight down into her unflattering work slacks.
When he broke their kiss, he continued to keep her close, his arms wrapped around her.
“Is that a walkie-talkie in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?” she asked, smiling.
He grinned. “Both.”
“To what do I owe this honor?”
“We had a briefing at the station to be on the alert in case Sam’s fans get rowdy. I was just doing a quick observation sweep of the building before the event.”
“Is this how you all your sweeps go, because I’m not sure snogging the staff is featured in the code of conduct.”
He laughed. “You’re right, that would be generally frowned upon. I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”
He released her from the embrace but kept hold of one of her hands.
She took a deep breath and replied, “I’m okay.
I just want this event to be over. I don’t plan on getting anywhere near Sam’s line of sight, but even the idea of him being here makes me shudder.
I’ve spent years keeping out of his way and he picks my place of work to peddle his bloody memoir. ”
“You don’t think he knows you’re here, do you?”
“Oh, no, it’s just an unfortunate coincidence. The book department have good relationships with lots of publishers; it’s good PR for everyone. Except me.” She laughed, but her heart wasn’t really in it.
“Well, I’ve been assigned to the event, so I’ll have your back.
” She smiled and he went on, “Listen, I get off at ten tonight. How about I get changed and then come back and hang with you for a bit while you work? I could even lend you a hand—my jumper-folding skills are excellent—if that’s not against the rules. ”
“I think technically it probably is, but I won’t tell if you don’t.” She smiled back at him. Once upon a time she wouldn’t have dreamed of breaking store rules, but since having Margo charging about the place like a demented bon viveur she’d had a crash course in loosening up.
“Great,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss. “I suppose I’d better go do my actual job now.” He sighed, and she laughed. “I’ll check in with you in a bit. Try not to stress. In three hours it’ll all be over.”
She took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll relax when he’s back in his chauffeured car en route to London.”
Ajay was halfway to the lift when he turned back and said, “Oh, I don’t know if you already saw this, but someone changed the Merry Christmas candles in homeware to read Shit Smear.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes.
—
Margo found Casey in another of the attic storerooms surrounded by boxes, some piled as tall as her.
She was sorting through an array of festive slipper socks.
“Ah, there you are,” said the spirit. “Quick, speak to me, I need some intelligent conversation as an antidote to having murdered a frightening number of brain cells reading your ex-boyfriend’s book. ”
“You read Hopeless Romantic?” Casey asked, a pair of fluffy socks in each hand.
“For my sins, I did.”
“Why?” Casey asked in a voice dripping in incredulity. She couldn’t think of anything worse, and that was saying something.
“I like to know my enemies,” Margo replied darkly.
“Okay, slightly worrying. What did you think of it?”
“Three hundred pages of absolute tripe—actually, scratch that, that’s offensive to tripe.
He had a ghostwriter, so it was put together well enough, but honestly, the moaning!
‘Oh, poor me, no one understands me. I’m just a man with too much love to give and no one to share it with.
’ That last bit was an actual quote that made me do a bit of sick in my mouth when I read it.
I’ll have to perform some sort of brain enema to get rid of the memory. ”
“Dare I ask how I was portrayed?”
“Oh, very badly. Don’t ever read it.”
“He’s here!” Kerry shrieked. “His car just pulled in!” Her voice was shrill even from four rooms along.
Margo, who’d been laying across one of the shelves eating grapes, sat bolt upright. “Good grief! That woman could get a job as a fire alarm.”
“Oh god,” Casey groaned. “He’s here.”
“Quick, let’s take a peek!” Margo hopped down from the shelving unit and crossed the large room to the windows overlooking the goods yard.
Casey followed reluctantly. Her stomach clenched when she saw the white limo parked outside the loading bay doors. She felt Margo’s head move closer to hers. “Well, well, well,” the spirit mused. “Here comes the man of the hour.”
Casey felt sick. For the last two years she’d only seen Sam Moon if she accidentally landed on a reality show while she was channel-hopping, and even then, she’d hastily changed the channel.
The car door opened with painful slowness, and Sam, like a snake being charmed out of a basket, unfolded himself to his full height and checked around him, presumably to see if he’d been spotted, then flicked up the collar on his long woolen coat and waited as Liz climbed out after him.
A younger, flustered-looking woman speed-walked ahead to buzz the intercom; Casey guessed she must be their publicist.
Even from here Casey could see, from his posture and the way he was hugging himself, that Sam was lambasting the poor publicist, probably for taking too long to get the door open.
She recalled the way his lip would curl into a sneer when he was about to become quietly unpleasant.
Liz flicked her long, dark hair and laid a soothing hand on his arm.
They looked good together—a power couple.
“What a charmer,” Margo remarked, and then seeing Casey’s hands added, “Good god, girl, you’re shaking like a leaf! Here, have one of these, quick,” and she shoved a dark chocolate cherry liqueur into her mouth.
Casey bit into the chocolate and concentrated on the gentle burn of cherry brandy spilling out over her tongue.
“It’ll all work out in the end, so there’s no point in getting stressed.”
“How do you know?” Casey asked, chewing on the boozy cherry.
“Because that’s the way time marches. Always forward. And maybe it won’t work out how you’d like, but without a doubt this evening will pass, minute by minute, and then it will be over, and the day will have worked itself out in one way or another.”
Casey frowned. “I think you mean that to be comforting, but it really isn’t.”
“Oh. Would it have been better if I’d said, ‘Shit happens’?”
“No.”
Sam and Liz disappeared from view into the building. “Quick!” said Margo. “To the security office—we can track them on the cameras.”