With less than a month to go before One French Summer With You comes out I thought I would give you a little teaser by sharing the first chapter with you!
To buy the e-book click here.
ONE
‘But I want a refund,’ says the forty-year-old woman on the other side of my counter.
‘Yes Madam, I completely understand but policy dictates that I can’t give a refund when the product has been used,’ I reply, pleading with the “Karen” in front of me. Some people love their jobs, I am not one of those people. I can feel my shoulders rising towards my earlobes as she glares at me through her dark rimmed glasses. Her dyed brown bob perfectly coiffed, sleek and glossy, moves as one sheet.
‘The mug is broken, surely you can see that too. It was broken when I got it home,’ she looks over the top of her glasses condescendingly.
‘But I can see tea stains on the bottom,’ I explain, trying to show her the watery brown marks that clearly weren’t there when she bought it. She doesn’t look at the mug, she just stares at me, shrinking me into the floor.
‘I don’t appreciate your tone young lady. I want to speak to the manager.’
‘Sure,’ I sigh, all too happy to walk away from her and try to find Dawn, who’s no doubt shouting at one of my colleagues somewhere on the shop floor. Liam constantly tells me retail isn’t for me, but it’s where I landed after university, turning my part time student job into a full time one. Seven years later and I’m still here, still working for Dawn. The stability of coming to the same place every day, to the same people, the same tills, the same stockroom, makes me feel safe, there’s no fear, no unknown.
I take my time looking for her, although it will infuriate the customer, I can’t bear to be shouted at any more today. Dragging it out as long as possible as the clock hand ticks closer to the end of the day, putting off the inevitable a little longer.
I find Dawn snooping behind a rail, tailing Tasha the new girl. With her greying hair pulled into a tight bun, bobby pins invisible, she’s bent over trying to hide her bulky frame behind the bright clothes on the clothing rack.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket as we walk back to the check out, where I keep out the way as Dawn listens to the customer’s ridiculous complaint. I look down and see my book in full sight on the shelf below the till and I will Dawn not to look down. The memories of the two informal chats we’ve already had are enough to make my cheeks flare up. As the customer starts to shout at my manager, I tie my long brown hair back up into a ponytail. The long sleeve black top, covered in loose strands of my hair, feels looser now than it did this morning. Moving around the stock room this morning, carrying towers of shoe boxes, armfuls of dresses and tops, loosening the fabric. The black trousers however don’t feel any bigger.
I turn my back on the two women arguing to see who the message is from.
Liam: Missing you, can’t wait to get home x
I smile to myself.
‘Evelyn, could you come over here a moment please?’ Dawn pulls my attention back to the room, as I slide my phone back into my pocket. ‘Could you issue a refund for this lady please?’ I nod, glad that I’ll soon see the back of the woman in front of me.
‘See, you have a lot to learn young lady, the customer is always right.’ I forced a polite smile even though I know it doesn’t reach my eyes and I feel a streak of anger and resentment towards the awful woman.
Dead on five I escape, grabbing my book and my bag from behind the counter, before I dash out the door, quickly waving to Tasha. It’s not a particularly warm day for mid-June but I’m glad the evenings are lighter as I walk home. My feet protest, wishing I’d taken the bus, but the fresh air fills my lungs happily after a day stuck inside. Liam won’t be home till late, so I take my time as I stroll through the streets of Richmond, the comfortable familiarity of the route like a soft blanket around me. The buildings soak in the last rays as I walk down the high street towards the river.
Like metal to a magnet, I’m drawn to the little book shop on the corner, the one I can’t seem to stay away from. I push through the door into the small cave like room, covered floor to ceiling in towering bookshelves. It smells of wood polish and brand new, untouched book pages, my favourite smell in the entire world. I love how bookshops are ordered, everything exactly where it should be, where I can find it. All the fiction in one place, the classics with the classics, , and the non-fiction as far away from me as possible.
There’s a display table in the middle with new releases and I pick up a few to take home. I think of the shelves in our small flat already overflowing but I pay for them anyway. Mum used to laugh at me, nose always lost in the pages of someone else’s story, distracting me from the things I couldn’t understand on my own. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the touch of her hand stroking my hair as I read.
I hold the books close to my heart and, despite the coolness in the air, decide to take the long way home, round by the riverside to watch the boats gliding past. With its stone arches, Richmond Bridge glows orange in the evening sun, tourists milling around as the summer holidays loom closer. The distant sound of a siren cutting through the noise of cars, horns and people’s chatter keep me company as I sit on one of the benches to look out at the water. A moment of calmness to destress from the day, trying to erase that vile woman from my mind before I get home.
Across the glassy surface, the ripples of the water move in perfect unison as a boat glides past. The trees sway gently in the breeze, as they always do, just like the old man who sits on the bench at the top every single day, feeding the birds from a packet of seeds. Everything around me familiar, comforting and exactly as it should be. The old couple in front of me are replaced by a younger one, maybe in their mid-twenties. They cuddle up, his arm over her shoulders as she chats. I smile at the tender gesture, not able to remember the last time Liam and I shared such a moment of utter complicity.
She rests her head on his shoulder as they watch the tourist boat cruise past, the people on the top deck barely specks from where we are sitting. He shifts nervously and I can’t help but watch them as he slides off the bench, down onto one knee.
I shudder knowing what’s about to happen, but she looks completely elated, her cheeks flushing and her eyes brimming with tears. He produces a little box from his pocket, fumbling as he tries to open it. I’m not the only one staring, people around us have stopped too, watching as the proposal unfolds.
‘Fools,’ I mutter to myself, collecting up my books and bag, unable to keep the cynicism off my face as unpleasant memories resurface.
Back on safe ground, pavement replacing the grass beneath my feet, I hear the faint sound of cheering and assume she gave the right answer. My phone interrupts my thoughts as Liam’s face flashes on my screen, with his deep brown eyes and dark black hair.
‘Hey you,’ His voice is light and comforting.
‘How’s it going?’ I ask, slowing down as I walk towards our home.
‘So far so good, it’s quiet at the moment but it won’t last,’ he says but I can tell he’s a little distracted.
‘Friday nights in London rarely are.’
‘You’re not wrong. How was work?’
‘The usual. Miserable, entitled customers who demand rather than ask.’ He doesn’t seem to be listening as the line goes quiet for a moment. ‘I’m just debating what to watch tonight, maybe Casablanca or Gone with The Wind, seeing as you’re out I thought I would make the most of being home alone to watch those films you hate so much.’ I ramble on, chuckling a little as I imagine his expression at my suggestions. It takes him a moment to reply and all I get is a quick, hollow laugh before he says:
‘Hey Evie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Don’t make any plans in the morning yeah?’
‘The only plans I have for tomorrow morning involve you and me and the bed.’ I joke to cover the unease his tone is giving me. I dismiss it, it must just be work getting to him tonight. The anticipation of trying to deal with a bunch of drunk scumbags is probably not something he’s looking forward to.
‘I’ll see you in the morning. Love you,’ he signs off, as I reach our building.
The key slips easily into the door and as I close it behind me it only dulls the sound of the street outside slightly, the hustle and bustle of the city the permanent soundtrack of my life. I plod up the stairs, relieved it’s the weekend and there’s no more work now till Monday.
Once inside, I exhale, safe and hidden from the world, the comfort of my life with Liam surrounding me. Our flat is tiny, just one bedroom, a small lounge, kitchen and bathroom. It’s sparsely decorated and still has the same white walls as when we bought it. The old, tattered sofa, we got for cheap when we moved in has seen better days with the bars pushing up through the squashed foam.
I drop my bag by the door and add my books to the stack on the shelves. It wobbles for a moment but decides to stay put. Below it, the old record player sits, the only thing I have left of my dad, with a few vinyl records I managed to save from my mum.
I take two steps into the kitchen to turn the oven on and get the pizza out the freezer. Liam’s lunch stuff still scattered over the surfaces where he left it. As the oven heats up, I stack the dishwasher, the mundane activities keeping my mind from thinking too hard.
Sx
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