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‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ an unfamiliar woman’s voice cried out.
‘What the fuck?’ Holly panted, pawing at her eyes. Whatever had been thrown at her sat in her mouth, horrid grit finding its way in-between words.
‘You okay?’
Words remained lodged in Holly’s throat, plugged by her thundering heart. She fixed on the blonde coming into focus. ‘What did you just throw at me?’
‘Throw? I didn’t— well I guess I did, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.’
The dirt coated Holly’s tongue and she fought the urge to spit. The woman was the colour of a tomato and looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her up, but her embarrassment didn’t help a dripping Holly regain composure. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘Water from my bucket,’ the woman replied, pointing to the offending object by her door. ‘I’d just mopped the floor. Look, I’m—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Holly snapped, cutting her off. ‘It was an accident – let’s leave it at that. I have deliveries to do.’ She grabbed the bin bag and flung it into the commercial bin, before stomping back and pulling the door closed. All the while the blonde watched her every move, her jaw tensed.
The bathroom mirror confirmed Holly’s worst fears. Her cream jumper was now streaked brown and clinging to her skin. Her face could be washed and the panda eyes banished, but her top? There was no saving it. She couldn’t do deliveries like this.
She splashed water on her face, using the hand towel to create a little traction and remove what remained of her make-up. She looked a state, but it was better than letting the public see her with smudged eyes and pools of milky foundation.
Washing her jumper wasn’t an option. There was no way to dry it before deliveries started. Anger bubbled below the surface, threatening to manifest as tears.
Footsteps on the stairs signalled someone was coming. She couldn’t hide the mess; she’d have to let Mum and Dad down.
‘What’s happened?’ Mum asked, coming into view in the mirror.
‘That cow next door soaked me.’
Mum’s face scrunched at her choice of words. ‘Jen? She wouldn’t do that.’
‘Well, obviously not on purpose.’ Holly relented, hands gripping the sink. ‘She threw her mop bucket water and it caught me square in the face.’
‘Ah.’ Mum stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Holly’s shoulder.
‘I can’t do deliveries like this.’ Her voice was almost a squeak.
‘We’ve got some polo shirts left from last year’s Christmas temps. Your dad was too tight to get the logo embossed, but they’re the deli’s brand colour – they’ll do for now.’
Holly nodded, her face betraying the fury that still rumbled inside her. ‘I look a mess.’
‘You’re not too bad. Pop your hair up and no one will know any better.’
‘What a start to my new career as deli delivery driver.’ She forced a smile.
‘The only way is up,’ Mum said with a wink.
