AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As soon as I open my eyes, I’m angry. It’s probably because the first thing I see is the hated fairy dress that I tossed on the bedroom chair when I returned after the most toe-curling commute of my life. The looks, the comments and the sheer number of phones pointed in my direction probably mean I am now a TikTok sensation. Especially because I glowered at anyone who dared stare at me, and I overheard a man introducing me to his video feed as one of Santa’s naughty fairies who was obviously tossed out of fairyland. The fact I showed him my middle finger merely demonstrated that I need anger management classes and fast.
As I follow my usual routine, I grab the dress and stuff it into an oversized bag and head off to the scene of my worst day ever. I vow to wrap this job up as quickly as possible before my sanity explodes in a torrent of anger, directed at the very man I have been sent to protect.
Throughout the journey, I try to remember my meditating skills and take several deep breaths to regain control of my senses. I need to be emotionless, practical and retain an open mind and so, as soon as I enter the staff entrance at Harvey’s, I nod to the security man and sign in with a flourish.
Rather than going straight to fairyland, I head in the opposite direction to personnel and Mrs Armstrong blinks in disbelief when I slam the costume down on her clean and tidy desk and say imperiously, “To retain the excellent reputation of your store and ensure that no child’s Christmas spirit is damaged forever, I suggest you relocate my services to a more suitable department for my skills. I might suggest security if you need some ideas.”
“B-b-but…” She stammers as she peers at me in confusion and I fix her with my most imperious expression that usually has them cowering away in fear.
I hand her my warrant card and say steadily, “As you can see, I am more than capable of carrying out the most basic security duties and my skills would be best utilised in patrolling the store. If you need a reference, you can call Detective Inspector Ranauld at Scotland Yard, who will give you everything you need.”
She stares with her mouth wide open, and I briefly wonder if I should have blown my cover so soon and I lean forward and whisper, “This stays between us. I am officially warning you not to breathe a word of my true identity to anyone–whoever asks and failure is rewarded with a night in the cells. Do I make myself clear?”
She nods, apparently dazed, and I say firmly, “So, we are agreed. I will patrol the store as extra eyes brought in for the Christmas period, and I expect you to clear it with your head of security. I will be undercover as a store detective and so must not be approached by any member of staff in case they blow my cover. Make sure your departments know the score and fabricate whatever excuse you need to keep them off my back.” I turn to leave, and she says hesitantly, “Miss Taylor…”
“Yes.”
“Is there something we should know? It’s just, well, um, why are you here?”
I fix her with a steely gaze. “Classified information, Mrs Armstrong. You will know when my job is done.”
She appears nervous and any normal person would feel bad for her, but normal hasn’t been part of my life for a while now and so I nod in her direction and head off to do what I was sent here for. Find out who is targeting their billionaire boss.
* * *
As decisions go,this was one of my best because now I am left alone to pry into this store in glorious solitude, just the way I like it. As I cover ground, I glance around with disdain because the price tags on most items here would feed a small family for a week. One handbag alone cost over one thousand pounds, and I imagine that even if I had more money than their owner, I would never spend it so frivolously.
Despite my disapproval though, I gaze longingly at the rows of beautiful dresses and cashmere jumpers when I find myself in womenswear. I let my fingers sift through the finest silk lingerie, imagining how it would slide against my skin and the smell of leather in the shoe department is as intoxicating as the finest perfume in the rather noxious perfumery downstairs.
My fellow workers are smart, polite, well-mannered, and attentive to the customers and I wonder if they feel the same way I do as they watch others more fortunate flash their credit cards and leave with bags full of luxuries to toss into their designer closets when they get home.
It is undoubtedly another world and one that I have no place in.
I reach for the cocktail dresses and as I sift through the rails, I wonder which one I would choose when a conversation nearby captures my attention.
“I heard he’s looking for a wife.”
“Isn’t every man.”
The woman sighs and says wistfully, “I caught a glimpse of him last week. He is so handsome. I wish he would glance in my direction only once.”
“The trouble is, he would probably fire you on the spot. He has a reputation for that.”
“So I heard. Why is it that men like him are lacking in personality? Gerald from menswear told me that Mr Harvey fired Jerome from men’s watches because he was late in one day because his child was sick.”
“Disgusting.” The other woman agrees. “Did Jerome find another job?”
“No, he got such a bad reference from Mr Harvey that no one will hire him. He’s claiming benefits and his poor children won’t be getting much from Santa this year.”
“I still wouldn’t say no if he asked me, though.” The other woman giggles and her colleague grunts in reply. “That’s your problem. You never do.”
They erupt into peals of laughter and are only silenced when the department manager stops by and says tersely, “Girls, there is no time for conversation between staff in Harvey’s. Remember, you are here to do a job and those rails need straightening.”
She moves off as the women scurry to opposite ends of the department and I make a mental note to check out Jerome with my accomplice in personnel.
As I move through the store, I eavesdrop on many conversations concerning their boss, and none of them are good. Names drop from their lips of fellow staff members, all with sorry tales of their own and I make surreptitious notes to check out every one of them. In fact, by morning break, I consider adding my own name to the list because the picture that’s emerging is one of a very undesirable human being that I would hate to meet, let alone work for.
“Hey, is this seat taken?” I glance up from my chair in the staff canteen and nod with disinterest at the smiling man, who drops into the seat beside me.
