By her third day on the job, Holly had stopped her aimless drifting and dared to venture a little closer to Emily as she interacted with customers.

She noticed that her colleague saved her energies for a certain type of shopper. One might say the more discerning customer. She usually made three or four sales each day – furniture and accessories of varying costs. But there was nothing remotely pricey enough to explain the sky-high commission that Josh had claimed she was earning.

The majority of customers who shopped here held a certain fascination for Holly. They weren’t exactly the sort born with a silver spoon in their mouths – many seemed to be self-made business people – but some of them weren’t far off.

They complained loudly about getting stuck in traffic on the way to their exclusive health club, or bemoaned the fact that they’d have to rush to make their restaurant reservation at lunchtime.

Holly got the distinct impression that none of them had known a particularly hard life, although, to be fair, you could never be sure. Still, she’d have bet good money that not one of them had left home in search of a better life, escaping the misery of being poor and a virtual outcast.

But Holly herself had a lot to be thankful for, and she vowed to keep reminding herself of that. If she was ever in any doubt, all she had to do was conjure up the dread and fear she’d felt that first night in the Manchester hellhole.

That always served to put things into perspective.

---

The emaciated man who had appeared in the living room doorway at the dilapidated house had looked as if he’d just woken up.

‘Who are you?’ he’d croaked.

‘We were told to come here,’ Markus had replied nervously. ‘Just for a couple of nights. We—’

‘Got any stuff for me?’

‘What? No! No, sorry.’ Markus had patted his pockets and held up his empty hands to show he had no drugs.

The man’s bony features had hardened when he saw there would be no benefit to him. He’d turned to leave.

‘Where shall we crash, man?’ Markus had called after him.

‘Anywhere you can,’ he’d muttered, and shuffled back into the front room.

Markus had moved to the doorway and Holly had stayed behind him, peering over his shoulder.

The room had been gloomy, the heavy curtains almost closed. There had been a sour, rotten smell pervading the place and Holly had clamped her hand over her nose and mouth.

Groans emanated from the darkest corners and she saw vague writhing, tortured shapes.

‘We can’t stay here,’ she had hissed, stumbling back into the hall and pulling in a big breath of the slightly less polluted air.

‘We’ve no choice, Holly,’ Markus had told her firmly. ‘Wait here and I’ll have a scout around.’

Holly had huddled close to the front door, next to their luggage.

She’d felt a welcome trickle of cool fresh air through the broken glass behind her. Her stomach had felt raw with nerves and she’d thought she might need the loo soon, shuddering at the thought of the bathroom arrangements in a place like this.

The house had been shrouded in a curious silence, punctured only by moaning from the doomed figures she’d spotted in the room next door. She dreaded to imagine the pain those people were experiencing to be making such harrowing noises. They certainly weren’t sounds that arose from pleasure of any sort.

Goodness knows what danger she and Markus might be in here, and the risk of picking up some nasty disease had to be pretty high.

Why had Markus given her the distinct impression that his boss would be taking care of them when this was the true reality of what awaited?

At that moment, Markus had returned from upstairs, his face grim.

‘There are people everywhere, and every room is like that one.’ He’d shuddered, nodding to the room next to them. ‘There’s a free corner in one of the bedrooms. We should grab that now, I think. We can sleep in shifts to keep our belongings safe.’

‘Never mind keeping the luggage safe; we need to keep ourselves safe,’ Holly had countered. ‘I’d rather sleep in a local park than here.’

She’d felt close to tears and he’d slid his arm around her shoulders.

‘Come on, we can do this, Holly. It’s raining and freezing out there. I’ll make sure it’s just the one night, OK? At sunrise tomorrow we’ll leave.’

A wave of tiredness and hopelessness had rolled over her. What was the point in fighting? They were here now, so it was a case of just getting through to the morning.

‘We will look back soon and laugh at this, I promise.’ Markus had winked at her. ‘Tomorrow we will move on to our new life.’

‘Where’s your boss?’ she’d pleaded. ‘I thought he had everything in hand.’

‘Tomorrow, you’ll see.’ Markus had shrugged.

That night had been ten years ago now, and despite Markus’s assurances, she still wasn’t looking back and laughing.

A clear, cultured voice flooded the showroom via the store tannoy system. Cath, the receptionist, was trying to chase down Mr Kellington.

Grateful for the interruption to her disturbing memories, Holly set about neatening the elaborately carved chairs nestled around the bespoke Italian dining room set.

She ought to be counting her blessings. Finding a place to live with Mrs Barrett and securing a decent job that had the financial potential to kick-start her recovery plans was something to celebrate.

But as usual, whenever she ought to be enjoying a rare moment of contentment, the troubling memories always found a way of elbowing their way in and ruining everything all over again.

She resolved to put a stop to it. She would give everything to this job and be a success.

That was by far the best way for her to begin the healing process, and to ensure that she and Evan would be together again. She felt it in every fibre of her being.