After the One, Cass Lester [top romance novels .txt] 📗

this day get any better? She turned the corner, panting heavily, her blood pounding in her ears. Taking advantage of a sudden break in the traffic, she went to dart across the road, but missed her footing. She stumbled off the kerb and pitched forwards. Her bag and shoes flew out of her arms and landed in the middle of the carriageway.

‘Bloody, bloody hell!’

Charley scrabbled frantically to grab her things before they, or she, got run over, but as she retreated to the undignified safety of the gutter, there was a sudden squeal of brakes and a bloke on a bike screeched to a halt inches from her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, clambering off his bike and putting a hand out to help her up.

‘Yes, I’m fine… thanks,’ Charley assured him, but attempting to stand sent a sudden shooting pain into her ankle, taking her breath away.

The man put out his hand to steady her, his face clouded with concern. ‘Are you sure?’

Bracing herself, Charley tentatively tried her ankle again. Although the pain made her wince, it was bearable and she could just about put her full weight on it.

‘Honestly, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, but thanks for stopping.’ She gave the man a slightly sheepish smile.

He smiled back, warm and easy. ‘You’re welcome. You’re sure you’re okay?’

She nodded, and he climbed back onto his bike and rode off, no doubt happy to have done his good deed for the day.

Charley was still naively hoping she might make it to the bus stop in time until, with impressive comic timing, the double decker smugly whooshed passed her, adding insult to injury by liberally spraying her with filthy water, and completely drenching her tights and skirt.

‘Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!’

There wasn’t another bus for half an hour, so now she was going to be late. She’d have to call in. She dug her phone out of her bag and stared at it numbly. The shattered screen looked like it had taken a gunshot – the image behind it reduced to a mass of meaningless multicoloured pixels. Charley closed her eyes. Oh, for crying out loud, could this day get any worse?

As it turned out, yes it could.

Cold and soggy, and by now very late, Charley hobbled into work desperate for a pee, a chair and a hot coffee – not necessarily in that order – and ready to amuse her colleagues with her disastrous start to the day. But to her surprise, the office was deserted. Her boss shot out of his office so promptly it occurred to Charley that he’d actually been lying in wait for her.

He regarded her for a brief moment, as if taking in the sodden state of her, then, apparently choosing to ignore it, said, ‘Ah, Charley. Can I have a word?’

It’s probably fair to say that when the silver spoons and golden opportunities were handed out, Charley wasn’t at the front of the queue – a position that was fine by her since she’d never believed that money made anyone happy. The pursuit of wealth had never been one of her life goals, which was fortunate because she hadn’t exactly embarked on a gloriously high-flying career. She worked as an admin assistant, the admin assistant to be absolutely accurate, for a failing letting agency in an increasingly less-than-sought-after area of Bristol. Originally, the agency’s next-door neighbours had been a Boots and a Ryman’s, but now the office was marooned by a bus lane and double yellow lines, and found itself perched dismally between an anonymous vape store and the Dragon Inc. tattoo parlour.

So perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her when, after a stumbling start, her boss had said, ‘I’m truly sorry, Charley, really… but I’m going to have to make you redundant.’ But it had. Well, more of a shock than a surprise, really.

‘Redundant?’ Charley repeated flatly. The word hung in the air between them, perhaps because she simply refused to let it in and give it room in her brain.

It turned out that a property developer had offered him a buyout deal that was simply too good to refuse. Frankly, any buyout would have been too good to refuse, thought Charley, looking around at the grubby decor and outdated furnishings, but she said nothing and concentrated on not letting her emotions show.

‘I’m going to retire,’ he told her apologetically.

‘Good for you!’ said Charley, somehow managing to give him a cheery, sincere smile.

In all honesty she couldn’t blame him for taking the money, she doubted the agency was even paying its way any more, and besides, he’d treated her more than fairly over the years, very generously giving her time off when she’d needed it after Josh died, and not hassling her to return until she was ready. He was a decent boss and a good man, and she genuinely wished him well, despite the small, sick waves of anxiety that were beginning to rise up inside her. She realised he was speaking to her.

‘I’ll pay you to the end of the month. And you’ll get redundancy,’ he was saying. ‘But if you want to leave today, well, right now, even, I’ll understand. I mean there’s no point just sitting it out I suppose—’ he trailed off, clearly dying with embarrassment.

‘No. Probably not,’ agreed Charley, giving him another smile.

Limping over to her desk, she belatedly realised her colleagues’ desks were already bereft of personal belongings, a detail that had escaped her notice earlier. They’d obviously decided to ship out sooner rather than later, too. It was like the Marie Celeste.

Numbly, Charley started to pile her stuff into her bag: the ‘Today Is Going to Be Awesome’ mug her mate Tara had given her, a coaster that read, ‘Be The Reason Someone Smiles Today’, and a photo in a cheap pine frame from Ikea – the one of Josh and her standing on the Rialto Bridge with a gondola in the background, on their honeymoon. She had asked an American tourist to take it