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THE SEVENTEENTH pt2
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Thirty Days THE EIGHTEENTH
I wake up alone, which is not unusual, but the feeling of dread that I fell asleep with has only intensified after a restless night of vivid dreams. The apartment feels empty, almost musty, in Taylor’s absence, and there is something else I just can’t pin down. A sadness that seems to have seeped into the walls. My phone tells me that eight o’clock is fast approaching, and I need to get my butt out of bed soon or I am going to be late for work. My head is filled with the memories of Genevieve’s party and my confrontation with Richard, which I have yet to tell Taylor about. I sigh out loud and promise myself that I will bring it up with Taylor as soon as I see him; if I don’t tell him, I can’t think what the consequences will be. Despite the warmth of the apartment, I feel chilled to the bone and find myself dressing accordingly, wrapping up in some dark-grey cord skinny jeans and a black cashmere cowl neck jumper over a grey silk long-sleeve T-shirt. The choice of colours reflects m
Thirty Days THE EIGHTEENTH pt2
I make it as far as the ladies’ toilets before I am overcome by my emotions. I lock myself in a stall and let the tears course down, doing my best to remain silent. After a few minutes, I hear the bathroom door open and footsteps approach as I hold my breath, hoping no one will notice me in here. “Abby, I know you are in here,” Taylor’s voice rings out, and I shrink back, knowing that talking to Taylor now is the last thing I need. “Abby, please…talk to me…” His voice, while not pleading, is not as harsh as it was in the meeting. “What do you want, Taylor?” I can’t help the bitterness that oozes out. “You couldn’t have given me some warning about this, like—I don’t know—last night? I can’t help but think there is more going on than simply a change in company direction.” Taylor lets out a sigh, and I hold my breath as I wait for his response. When he finally speaks, his voice is stiff, as if he is trying to hold back. “Look, Abby, all this, you and me, it is clear to me now that i
Thirty Days THE NINETEENTH
I raise myself off the cold floor to find my limbs stiff and aching, mirroring the state of my heart. The sun is only just rising, so I make myself get in the shower in an attempt to soap away some of the tension in my shoulders. The warm water is soothing, and part of me wishes I could just stay in this tiny cubicle and forget the rest of the world. Eventually, the water turns cold, and I jump out, drying myself briskly before pulling on an old faded pair of jeans, a bulky hooded sweatshirt and my trusty Converse trainers that seem to have made their way back. I look at the beautiful black cashmere coat that Taylor bought me but immediately snub it in favour of my duffel coat. It may be worn and old, but at least it was bought and paid for by me. When I am finally ready to leave, I take a look around, knowing in my soul that this is the last time I will step foot in my flat. I admire the effort that Taylor, or rather, Mrs Harris, made in restoring my flat into a home, and under any o
Thirty Days THE NINETEENTH pt2
I step into the bakery, and the first thing I notice is the amazing smell. My stomach growls, reminding me that I have been neglecting it of late. As I glance around, I take in the large counter and the wooden shelves running along the back, filled with different loaves. A couple of large wicker baskets hold fresh rolls ready for people to pick and place in the paper bags hanging up. It is carb heaven and I am loving it. A trim lady in her early fifties, wrapped in a pinny, steps forward, and I realise I recognise her from Nonna’s funeral. She was one of the many who came up to me offering their condolences, and I remember wondering who she was. “Hello, Abby. It is nice to meet you finally under different circumstances. I am Beatrice, but all my friends call me Bea.” She holds out her hand, and when I take it, she draws me into a hug. Despite my earlier reservations, I find myself warming to Bea immediately as she takes my arm and starts chatting excitedly about the shop and Nonna,
Thirty Days THE TWENTIETH
At some point I must have slept because I wake with a start in the early hours of the morning. I realise the faint noise I hear must be Andreas starting up for the morning, so I lie in bed listening to the sounds, feeling less alone. When it is clear that I am not going to be able to go back to sleep, I get up and make a coffee. I am tired but antsy, so I do what I always do when my life spirals out of control: I bake. Muffins are my friend this morning, so I find myself making several batches. I know I make mean apple and cinnamon muffins, but this morning I go further, adding lemon and poppy seed, carrot and pecan and savoury bran to my repertoire. I also make a couple of chocolate fudge cakes to take down to Bea and Andreas later as a thank you for helping me settle in. Time flies and I realise that it is five to seven, so I put a selection of muffins on a plate and wander down to the back of the shop. The door is just being unlocked by Bea, so she ushers me in, chatting at a hundr
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FIRST – TWENTY-THIRD
I am an ice queen on the inside. I have perfected the art of preventing everything and everyone from seeing the inner me, which is ugly and black and numb. On the outside, I smile and chat to customers, make small talk with Bea and Andreas, and do my best to take in everything that I am being taught. But when I am alone, the cracks have started to show. Baking is not even helping now. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat, and I know the dark shadows under my eyes are getting harder and harder to disguise, no matter how much concealer I layer on. I am avoiding Michelle’s calls because I know if I talk to her, I will finally break. The rest of the week has been a testament to my determination not to end up in a ball sobbing over a man, and on some level, I feel a misplaced sense of pride that I have managed to achieve just that. Saturday is the busiest day of the week for Bread, and I am witnessing it first-hand as I help out Bea and Lorna, our Saturday girl. The same age as I am, Lorna is d
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FOURTH
I am standing in Nonna’s kitchen, desperately trying to avoid looking at either the spot where she died or at my mother, who is currently raging in Italian. Despite my heritage, I have never managed to master much beyond the odd holiday phrase, so I really don’t have a clue about what she is saying to me. My dad popped out for a pint of milk, and it was at that point she started grilling me about what I was going to do about Bread. I am a terrible liar, so I came clean and told her my situation, minus the stuff like sleeping with my boss, his psycho brother and the all-round fucked-up-ness that is my life currently. Needless to say, it was like waving a rag at a bull, and I am now standing here waiting for her to calm down. Which doesn’t seem like it is going to happen anytime soon. “Gina, just shut the hell up, will you?” My dad’s normally quiet voice booms across the room, and we both stare at him, silence descending at last. “Stop for a minute and look at what you are doing to ou
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FIFTH
I must have fallen asleep at some point because I am woken by a pounding on the door. Wrapping my gown around myself, I make my way downstairs to find the postman with a registered letter bearing my name. Odd as no one knows yet that I live here. I make my way upstairs and pop the kettle on before ripping open the envelope. The first thing I take in is the Hudson International letterhead, and I find my heart beating a rapid tattoo. It takes me a while to digest the words, and it is not until I see the cheque enclosed for ten thousand pounds that the penny drops. I am being paid off. The thought sends red-hot fury coursing through my veins, and I start to shake. Of course, in black and white it is all very amicable and spelt out as a corporate responsibility as I was out of my probation period, but I am reading between the lines and I know what is happening here. Before I fully comprehend what I am doing, I find myself donning some clothes and pulling on my duffel coat, heading ou
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