The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2) T. Belshaw (management books to read .txt) 📖

breath, hung her head over the bowl and splashed the bitterly cold water onto her face and neck before grabbing a towel and rubbing it vigorously against her skin. Leaving the bathroom door open behind her, she walked surprisingly steadily down the stairs to the kitchen. She filled the kettle, then remembering her promise to her employer, she slammed it down on the greasy hob and turned around to see if she could find her coat. She passed the rickety-looking dining table holding last night’s empty, two litre cider bottles, and made her way to the lounge where she found her green Puffer jacket on the floor next to a badly stained sofa. Pulling it on, she patted her pockets to check for her keys, and stepping over the increasing pile of mail on the doormat, let herself out and crossed the street to the mini-mart.

Mrs Kaur checked her watch, then looked up as the tinkle of the bell announced Nicola’s entry. If she had ever looked more disparaging, Nicola couldn’t remember when it was, and there had been plenty of disparaging looks over the six months she had worked at the shop.

‘Your shift starts at seven,’ she remarked coldly.

‘I know, Mrs Kaur. I’m sorry, I had a bad night.’

The shopkeeper shook her head and glanced towards the shelves of beer, wine and cider. ‘From the looks of you it was a very GOOD night.’ She pursed her lips. ‘If you’re late one more time, or, if you arrive at work so hungover that you can’t see keys on the till properly, it will be the last time you do it. Do I make myself clear?’

Nicola nodded. She’d had half a dozen final warnings before, so she wasn’t particularly worried about getting another. Her two predecessors had both been sacked for helping themselves to the cash in the till. Nicola hadn’t stooped to those depths yet, though she had been sorely tempted when her purse was empty during the week before payday. Thankfully, her next-door neighbour, a soft touch called Maggie, worked at Asda and would bring her a selection of food from stock that was about to expire. Nicola always offered to pay when her wages went into the bank at the end of the month, but Maggie would never accept. She was a church going Christian who saw the few pounds she spent on Nicola as an act of charity.

Nicola lowered her head as she walked past her employer, who wafted her hand in front of her face as she went by.

‘For goodness sake, you stink of stale cider.’ She grabbed a packet of extra strong mints and tossed it towards Nicola. ‘Here, don’t go too close to the customers until they’ve had time to work… oh, and ring them into the till. You’re paying for them.’

Nicola took the mints without a word, then walked through to the back of the shop, hung up her coat and pulled on a fading, flower patterned overall with the Kaur’s Mini-Mart logo on the breast. When she re-entered the shop, she found Mrs Kaur sitting on a high stool at the end of the counter. It was going to be a long day.

At one o’clock, Mrs Kaur begrudgingly took charge of the till while Nicola made the short trip home for her lunch break.

As she was crossing the street, Maggie came out of her front door wearing her green, Asda, fleece.

‘Hi,’ she called breezily. ‘I’m just off to work, do you need anything bringing home?’

‘You couldn’t do me a massive favour and grab me a couple of two litre bottles of cider, just the cheap Lightning Bolt stuff. I’ve run out and I could do with some to last out the week.’

‘All right, but you will have to pay me for them now. You shouldn’t be spending money on alcohol when you’ve got no food in the cupboard.’ She wagged a friendly warning finger at Nicola.

‘I’ve got food, Maggie. The cider will last me until the weekend and I get paid then. I need to unwind when I get home from work or I don’t sleep.’

Maggie knew that the cider wouldn’t last until midnight, but she smiled anyway and waited until Nicola produced her purse and began to count out the seven pounds, twenty pence the cider would cost. She leaned forward and looked into the tatty, leather purse as Nicola’s fingers searched the torn, satin lining for the stray fifty pence piece she thought was hiding there.

‘Just give me what you’ve got, Nicola. It’s all right, I’ll make up the difference.’

Nicola nodded, gratefully, and turning away, walked the few yards to her front door and let herself in.

She had just taken off her coat and lit the gas under the kettle when her phone rang. She picked up the aging Nokia that Jessica had given her when she had acquired a new one, some years before, and pressed the answer button.

‘Yes.’

‘Hi, Mum, it’s me.’

‘Hello, Jess, this is a surprise, I’ve just this moment got in for my lunch break.’

‘How’s the old slave driver over the road?’ asked Jess with a laugh.

‘She’s the same as always, the miserable so and so, she thinks she controls my whole life. I’m getting fed up with her lectures. If the blooming shop wasn’t so convenient, I’d find a job elsewhere.’

‘That’s why it’s called a convenience store, Mum.’ Jess tried to keep the conversation light hearted.

‘I’ll tell her what I think of her one of these days and just walk away.’

‘Don’t do that, Mum. You’re a bit better off in work than out of it.’

‘It’s a hard life, Jess. I’m struggling to keep up with the bills. I don’t suppose you could—’

‘What haven’t you paid this time?’

Nicola sighed. ‘The usual. I’m two months behind with the rent, I’ve got until next week to pay the council tax and they’re chasing me for the water rates. They put the prices up every year but wages never go up to the same extent. It’s scandalous.’

‘How’s your meters?’

‘I