Page 11 of Tattered Huntress
I’d taken my petty revenge and my dealings with him – brief as they had been – were over.
By the timeFriday rolled around, I’d forgotten the turmoil at the start of the week and was focused on my upcoming time off. My parents were thrilled to hear that I was dropping by for a few days, which made me feel guilty for staying away for so long.
I made plans to head to my family home for three days then return to Edinburgh. I’d have more than enough free time to locate a new supplier for spider’s silk. I might even spring clean my little flat. Stranger things had happened.
It was with those happy thoughts that I skipped into the warehouse to pick up my delivery orders for the day. With any luck they’d be in and around the city so I could be sure of a timely finish.
I waved at Billy, who was loading up his van by the main warehouse doors and wandered inside to find Mr McIlvanney. To my surprise, he wasn’t in the small staff kitchen making his usual pot of tea but waiting for me by the door to his office.
‘Ah. Daisy.’ He offered an uncomfortable smile which, I noticed, didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Can I have a quiet word?’
A quiet word. Four syllables that can strike terror into anyone’s heart. My zippy mood vanished. I nodded jerkily and followed McIlvanney into his office. When he gesturedfor me to close the door, my spirits sank further. ‘Have a seat, Daisy,’ he said.
I crossed my arms. ‘I’d rather stand.’
He sighed. ‘As you wish.’
I watched as he sat down behind his utilitarian desk. He shuffled some papers in front of him and twitched several times.
‘Let me guess,’ I said flatly. ‘We’re short staffed so you want me to delay my holiday next week.’
McIlvanney started; from his expression, he’d entirely forgotten about my vacation. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not that.’
I eyed him. ‘What is it then?’
He looked away, unwilling to meet my gaze. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, Daisy. I’m afraid we’ve had a very serious complaint about you.’
I had my faults, but I was good at my job. I met my targets and I tried to be a supportive co-worker; in fact, I genuinely enjoyed working as a delivery driver. I got to see a lot of the country, plus I’d been here almost four years. I was practically an old-timer. ‘Go on,’ I said, unable to fathom what the complaint could be.
McIlvanney picked up a pen and fiddled with it. I resisted the urge to grab it from his hands and toss it into the bin. ‘It’s been alleged that you’re a drug addict,’ he said heavily.
I tensed; there was only one person who could have made that complaint. ‘Hugo fucking Pemberville,’ I said aloud.
McIlvanney winced, confirming it. ‘Is it true?’
I waved my hands in annoyance. ‘Have I ever done anything during the course of this job that has caused you concern?’
‘No, but?—’
‘Do I turn up on time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do I complete all my deliveries?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do I throw packages around or leave them out in the rain?’
‘No.’ He finally looked directly at me. ‘But are you a drug addict?’
‘What I do in my spare time has no bearing on my job.’
‘It has every bearing. For one thing, you’re privy to people’s addresses. You know when homeowners are in and when they’re away.’
I glared. ‘Are you suggesting that I’m likely to burgle their homes because I can’t control myself?’
‘No,’ he said, although it was obvious that was exactly what he was thinking. ‘You’re a valued employee, Daisy. I want to help. I’ve done some research and there’s an excellent rehab programme that I can get you into.’
