Back on the high street, Maisie was outside the cinema, engrossed in her phone as dozens of people walked by. She didn’t see Sinead coming towards her.
‘Put it away, Maisie.’
When she saw Sinead, the girl panicked. Reaching for her trouser pocket, she fumbled and dropped the phone. She bent down and scooped it up from the kerb. ‘Sorry Sinead, I was just quickly checking something–’
Sinead silenced her with a look; she didn’t want to hear excuses.
‘How many sign-ups have you got?’
‘Err… two, so far.’
‘Two sign-ups in three hours?’
‘Yeah…’ Maisie scratched her nose.
‘I don’t know what to say to you, Maisie. It’s just not good enough.’
‘I know, I know. I really am trying my hardest though, honestly.’
‘I’m giving you a verbal warning. It’s week two, and you’re not even close to hitting your targets. Management aren’t too happy with our team, so we all need to step up to the plate.’
Maisie nodded and focused on the pavement. ‘Okay.’
Sinead looked up the high street and saw Dylan in the distance, outside the library. He had been avoiding Sinead as much as he could, but thankfully his numbers were good. ‘Where’s Dina?’ she asked, but Maisie didn’t know.
Sinead found Dina in Costa, gossiping on her phone and nibbling on a blueberry muffin. She asked Dina to come outside so she could talk to her. Sinead knew it was about to get messy from the insolent look Dina gave her.
‘Dina, your lunch break is at 1.30.’
‘I swap my break time with Dylan. Is no problem.’
‘Actually it is a problem. I’m responsible for this team, and I need to know where everyone is and what they’re doing at any given time. If you start swapping your breaks without telling me, it’s a problem.’
‘I think you worry too much. I go lunch at one or he goes at one, so it is the same…’
‘How many sign-ups have you got?’
Dina looked over Sinead’s shoulder. ‘You know, people like to stop and talk in the afternoon, when they have more time. So you know, I will increase my numbers–’
‘How many?
Dina locked eyes with Sinead and held up her middle finger. After a beat she said, ‘One.’
Sinead took a deep breath. Dina was smirking at her now, waiting for a reaction. Sinead took out her smartphone and selected the number for Andy, her line manager at the office.
‘At the end of the shift you’ll need to go and speak to Andy.’
‘Oh yes, yes. Okay.’ Dina oozed condescension. ‘I know how this is. You like the man to do your dirty work for you.’
Sinead listened to the phone ringing and stared back at Dina. The bitch had come with an attitude from day one, so this was inevitable. Even though Sinead wanted to punch her right in the throat, she was, above all else, a professional. And she didn’t have the power to fire anyone, so technically Dina was right. Andy would fire her on the spot.
***
Cycling home that evening, Sinead thought of only one solution to the turmoil going on inside her head: buy a bottle of vodka and a bottle of tonic, plant herself on the sofa, and drink until she blacked out. Her mother ended every day like that, and Sinead was her mother’s daughter. It was already half six, so it was perfectly fine. Caitlin drank every evening of her adult life, but never before six o’clock. That was her one rule, regularly repeated to reassure her daughter she couldn’t possibly be addicted. How could she have a drink problem if she waited until the evening? Of course, there were always bottles hidden in her handbag and under seats in the car that she thought Sinead didn’t know about.
Sinead cycled down a side street she’d discovered as a shortcut to the bungalow and parked her bike outside the off licence: Willoughby’s Wines. She chained the bicycle to an iron railing at the opening of the side alley next to the shop. The door chimed as she entered. The man behind the counter looked up from the book he was reading, adjusted his Harry Potter glasses, and smiled.
***
Back at the bungalow, she sat at the kitchen table, drinking vodka tonics while dipping stale pitta bread pieces in a tub of hummus and just staring at the wall. As the alcohol was taking effect, Sinead remembered her promise to Elliot that the place would be cleaned while he was away. She took the vacuum cleaner from the cupboard in the utility room, plugged it into a wall socket, and got going on the living room carpet. She felt giddy and hungry, but weirdly energised.After a while she realised she’d been standing still, vacuuming the same patch for far too long. She pushed the vacuum cleaner down the hall, knocking its head into the skirting boards. Leaving the motor running, she stumbled back to the kitchen, poured a triple shot and topped up her glass with the last of the tonic. Back in the hall she pushed the vacuum cleaner with one hand, stopping every thirty seconds to take another swig.
Continuing on into her bedroom, Sinead lurched about, splashing booze as her movements became increasingly erratic. Suddenly bored with it all, she switched the vacuum cleaner off. Slumping into the armchair, she finished her drink and, as her head span, tried keeping her neck straight to counter the dizziness. She thought about Dina and cackled. I’m so fucking glad to see the back of that one. Then she traced a forefinger down her cheek; she swore she could still feel the bastard’s spit.
A wave of sadness crashed over her. It couldn’t be held back now; the alcohol was defeating her powers of denial and exposing a toxic cocktail of shame, humiliation, fear and regret. Joel! A huge fucking mistake; she’d have given her left arm to turn back the clock. He wasn’t at all who she thought he was. And clearly Sinead wasn’t who he thought she was either. At least she’d stopped it before anything serious happened. Imogen would go nuts if she ever found out. Despite the animosity between them, she had never wanted to hurt Imogen. Not intentionally, anyway. So why had she allowed it to happen? What the hell was wrong with her? Jealousy and lust had overwhelmed her, but there was more to it. She desperately needed to know what it felt like to be loved, naively hoping Joel could provide her with that rarest of gifts. Sinead despised herself for letting her guard down, revealing how badly she needed someone to care for her.
Would Joel say anything to the girls? He might be telling them his version of the story; one with Sinead as the villain. He could turn them all against her. Was this the excuse they wanted to get rid of her, to banish her from the group forever? Or was Joel keeping his mouth shut, hoping it would stay secret? Sinead punched the armrest in frustration. There was no way to know until she saw them.
19
Office workers were exiting the three-storey glass-fronted building, sparking cigarettes or sucking vapes and thumbing their phones. Further down the road in a disused shop doorway, Sinead was watching and waiting. It was now after 5.30 and the office building’s revolving doors were spinning constantly, spitting people out onto the crowded pavement. She yawned; sleepless nights were taking their toll. The past few days had seemed like an eternity. Criminals must go through something similar waiting for the verdict at their trial. But she was waiting to find out if she’d even been accused and the suspense was unbearable. She’d never felt so alone.