Page 4 of Rivers of Ink
Alicia did as she was told, her mood brightening. Having Nell around would definitely help. And with her friend’s organised demeanour, something good had to come out of the day. She crunched on the toast and Marmite, and Nell shouted out descriptions of various roles that she thought Alicia would be able to do.
When there were crumbs and tea leaves left, there was also a pitifully short list.
“Is that everything?” Alicia’s heart sank as she read through what she had written down, mostly short-term or temp roles.
“Wait, we haven’t checked the Jobs in Oakridge page.”
The website Nell was referring to was a community website that had jobs, things for sale, things wanted, house and room rentals, basically anything that anyone local would want. Occasionally you could find a total gem on there.
Alicia rolled her eyes. “Like I want to work in a restaurant or coffee bar.”
“Broaden your horizons, lady, you never know what might come up. Do you want a permanent job or not?” Nell threw a cushion at her head. “Besides which, beggars can’t be choosers. You’ve got rent to pay, remember?”
Nell, not for the first time, was absolutely right. She had offered to sub Alicia the rent several times, saying she could get a loan from Rory, but Alicia refused. She wasn’t prepared to have her friend get into debt because of her choices even if it was with her boyfriend.
“Okay, okay. I’ll make another cup of tea and then we can take a proper look.” Alicia stood up and headed into the kitchen. While the kettle boiled, she dried her hair and threw the damp towel into the washing machine. At least if she was at home, she’d be able to catch up on her chores.
“I think I’ve found something,” said Nell. “It’s local. I think you can probably walk, and it looks like a permanent opportunity.”
Alicia set the tea down on the coffee table and sat next to Nell on the sofa who shoved the laptop in her direction. She read through the brief job ad on the screen:WANTED! Multi-tasking all-rounder needed for a small, but busy, barber and tattoo studio in Fosse Arcade. Duties to include looking after reception, taking bookings, and all aspects of marketing and social media. Doesn’t include getting coffee.There was also a brief outline of hours and an email address to send details to.
Somewhere in the depths of her brain, she remembered Callan said he worked in a shop in Fosse Arcade. If she got a job nearby, she could engineer to bump into him.
She shot a sideways glance at Nell. “Really? A reception job?”
Nell sighed. “Did you actually read it? ‘All aspects of marketing and social media’, two things you’re exceptional at. And it doesn’t involve running around after staff, unlike most of your other temp jobs.”
For a moment, Alicia was almost tempted. It couldn’t be any worse than stuffing envelopes or event goody bags or having to deal with the bitchy hierarchies she had recently come across. Maybe she’d get to work with some fit men. She re-read the job ad in front of her. It couldn’t hurt to apply. After all, it wasn’t as if she had anything to lose.
3
As Callan prised his eyes open, he didn’t know whether the hammering was coming from the inside of his head or the front door. The knocking grew louder and more insistent and he realised it was coming from the door, though the pounding in his head was giving it a good run for its money. He must have had a lot more to drink than he’d thought. Although he did remember bringing home a hotter-than-hell woman.
“Shit!”
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, looking around the room for any hint that Ali was still there. It appeared empty, and a glance towards the open bathroom door revealed she must have left. An unexpected flash of disappointment hit him in the chest.
Callan heard a male voice calling his name, alternating between the banging, and brought himself back to the present. He hauled himself out of bed, wrapping the sheet around the lower half of his body as he headed for the door and opened it.
The man standing in the entrance swept his gaze up Callan’s half-naked, tattooed body as Callan rubbed his eyes.
“Rough night?” he asked, before pushing his way into the flat.
Callan slammed the door behind him and followed the man, who had made his way to the kitchen and busied himself in putting on the kettle.
“Dad? What the hell are you doing here? Who let you in?”
The look Drew Rivers gave his son was one of pity.
“I thought I was meant to be the old man losing his mind. If you’d checked your messages, then you’d know I said I’d be here at ten, so we can go to the crematorium together.”
Drew’s words hit hard. It wasn’t as if Callan could forget what day it was. Ali had provided such a sweet distraction that he had, for the first time in a while, been able to get a good night’s sleep. One that had been dreamless for once.
“You look like you need a shower,” said Drew. He spooned coffee into two clean mugs and opened the fridge door to find milk. “Why don’t you get cleaned up while I make the drinks?”
The image was so ridiculous that Callan almost laughed out loud. His dad, standing in his kitchen, dressed in a smart suit being all domesticated as if they did this every day.
Maybe he was dreaming after all.
