Page 44 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
“Michelle’s on her break now, miss.”
“Then you can do it, Leila, please.”
“I can’t, miss, I haven’t been shown that yet—with me being a trainee ’n’ all.”
Sheila raised her eyes to heaven as if asking for spiritual guidance to give her the patience to deal with these underlings. “It’s about time you learned then, my girl. Watch and learn.”
I watched too, as Sheila swiftly and expertly dealt with thegift-wrapping. The finished product was an elegant, light blue parcel with coordinating ribbon. It was placed in a clear cellophane bag, which was tied up at the top with a white ribbon, after dried rose petals had been carefully poured into the bag to surround it.
Rowan Atkinson eat your heart out, I thought, storing yet another film scene in my head to add to my ever-growing list.
Sheila returned to my side of the counter.
“So sorry about that,” she said. “Now, you were saying?”
“Er yes, that’s right—is Sheila your real name?” I blurted out.
Sheila looked as if she was wondering whether she might need to call security in a minute. “Yes, it is—why do you ask?”
“Oh…no reason,” I said dejectedly.
“There must be a reason, dear, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked in the first place.”
I stopped myself from saying. “Because I thought you might be my mother” just in time. Instead, I told her about my search for a Rosemary O’Brien, who might have worked here in the past. Then I quickly showed her my photo.
“Sorry, dear. Neither the name nor the photo ring any bells, I’m afraid.”
“Never mind,” I said, putting the photo back in my bag. “It doesn’t surprise me—I’ve been getting the same answer all day. Thanks anyway.” I began to move away from the counter.
“Wait—you could ask Bill.”
“Bill?”
“He’s our odd-job man—he’s been here for donkey’s years. Bill knows everyone, and everyone knows Bill.”
“Can I speak to him?” I asked excitedly.
“Wait, I’ll just see if he’s around.” Sheila picked up the internal phone. “Hi, Janice, Sheila here—ladies’ bags…yes, yes, I’m fine. Do you know if Bill is about somewhere in the store?”
I waited with bated breath. I’d never had to bate my breath before, and now seemed as good a time as any to give it a try.
“Oh, is he? Oh, that can be nasty…Yes, let’s hope so, eh? Well thank you, Janice…yep, we should do that soon. Bye-bye for now.” Sheila put the phone down.
“I’m sorry, it seems Bill is off sick at the moment. Touch of the flu, Janice says.”
I unbated my breath as my heart sank. “Do you know when he might be back?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Bill must be well into his sixties—these things take their toll when you’re that age, don’t they? Perhaps you could pop back later in the week?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’ll try and do that. Thanks for your help, Sheila.”
“My pleasure, dear. Good luck with your search.”
It was the last straw at the end of a very disappointing day. I couldn’t face any more shops after Sheila’s news, so I decided to head home.
A long soak in a hot bath was what was needed tonight, and maybe a bit of cinema therapy, courtesy of the extensive library of DVDs that Belinda and Harry kept in their study. I’d had enough real life for one day.
Twelve
