CHAPTER ONE
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EMMA
Twelve Years Later
The lyrics of “Baby Got Back” ran through my mind, loud and clear. It was confusing. Even in my sleepy stupor, I knew it was impossible for Sir Mix-A-Lot to be dancing in my bedroom while wearing my slippers. Then I realised it was my phone ringing and vibrating beside my head.
I groaned as I picked it up. I knew who was calling and the reason for the call.
Forcing my eyes open, I tried to sound awake and chirpy when I cleared my throat and answered, “Morning, Amanda!”
“Are you up?” Amanda asked. Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were chewing while she talked.
“Yes, of course. Almost ready to leave the house now,” I lied.
Instead, I snuggled deeper into the warmth of the duvet.
Amanda stopped midchew and, with a full mouth, asked, “Why didn’t you text me? You asked me to call you after eight thirty.”
“Oh, I must have forgotten. Anyway, I’ll see you soon,” I replied.
The sooner I could get her off the phone, the longer I could stay in bed. Or so I thought.
“Emma!”
“Yeah?” I replied, suppressing a yawn.
“Can you turn the tap on?”
I took a few seconds to try to understand her question before I gave up.
“What?” I asked.
“Turn the tap on,” Amanda repeated.
“Like the one in the bathroom?” I asked, still unsure if my confusion was because I wasn’t completely awake.
“Or the kitchen, either or. It doesn’t matter.”
“Why?” I finally asked. I was never going to guess.
“Because, if you were up and about, it wouldn’t be that much of a hassle,” she answered. Her voice was serious, as if it were a normal request.
A massive groan slipped through my lips. “Amanda, really? Are you kidding me?”
“No, I knew you weren’t awake,” Amanda replied matter-of-factly. “You have to get up or you’ll be late again. Remember, you’ve had a warning already for lateness. Susan would love any opportunity to give you another.”
That would make two warnings, I thought. The second one would be a written warning. There wasn’t such a thing as a third warning. It would be my big butt in the street. Even though I didn’t think of my job in the supermarket as a lifetime career, it still paid the bills.
“All right, I’m up. I’m up,” I groaned, knowing that the safety and warmth of my bed would be gone.
“Promise?” she said, her voice suddenly louder.
I pushed the blankets down and reluctantly stood. Not wanting to feel the cold of the floor, I hopped to the bathroom and turned the hot water to full blast. The room filled with steam.
“Yes, hear this?” I said through gritted teeth as I kicked myself for such a rookie error. I should’ve known better since Amanda could smell a lie from a mile away.
“Cool, see you soon,” Amanda replied.
I showered as quickly as possible, dressed at the same speed, and didn’t bother with breakfast. In less than twenty minutes, I was out the door.
Getting to work wasn’t as fast as I anticipated. It was raining outside, but then again, it always rained in Edinburgh. After searching in my bag for an umbrella, I cursed under my breath, realising that it wasn’t in its usual place. I’d left it on top of the chest of drawers in my bedroom. On a brighter note, at least it wasn’t the typical torrential rain that fell sideways and hurt your face. On those days, not even an umbrella would save you from getting wet. The quickest thing was just to pull my hood up and keep walking.
The usually busy Princes Street lacked many of the tourists that visited the city every day. Only a handful of folk were sheltered under their hooded jackets as they guarded themselves from the rain.
By the time I reached the bus stop, my feet swam inside my black, sensible shoes and my red curls sprouted in all directions. What a tangled crimson mess it was.
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“Look what the cat dragged in,” Amanda quipped with a small smile on her thin lips.
“So it must be true. I look like I feel,” I grumbled as I peeled off my coat and stuffed it inside my locker like a drowned rat.
Amanda nodded with a chuckle and handed me a hair bobble, knowing that I would need it. I accepted it gratefully without uttering a word.
“How was your weekend?” she asked.
“Oh, you know, quiet,” I replied, concentrating on controlling my maddening curls.
“Let me guess,” Amanda said, hand on her hip. “You stayed in and watched TV?”
I took a few seconds before answering, staring at myself in the mirror with the bobble between my lips. I didn’t look perfect, but it was good enough.
After closing my locker, I looked at Amanda. My best friend was petite and curvy. She always struggled with new diets, but unlike me, she’d never suffered from acne. She had fabulous ivory skin. It was a shame that her hair, long and as dark as coal, had to be tied back and covered with netting. Amanda worked in the meat department. You could say she was a butcher, but she hated that word.
“Yep, you’re right, Inspector Clouseau,” I said, remembering the number of times she’d tried to convince me to go out. To live a little.
“I’m worried about you,” Amanda admitted. “You need to stop burying your head in the sand. It’s time to move on.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I replied.
If only it were that easy.
“Are you still coming over tonight?” Amanda asked, her eyes alight with excitement.
I had completely forgotten her girls’ night out. She’d been looking forward to this night for days. A few of us were going to a new nightclub to dance and drink cocktails all night. But I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to go.
With a grimace, and knowing that she would be disappointed, I replied, “I’m sorry, Amanda. Really, truly sorry….”
Her porcelain face fell. “But…?”
“I don’t think I can do it. I’m not ready yet.”
She offered a slight smile, nodded, and said, “It’s okay. I understand, but it’s been four months since you two broke up.”
I took in a big breath and replied, “I know, but I’m not sure I know how to start again.” Glancing at the mirror one last time to make sure everything was nicely in place, I suggested, “I’d better get going before you-know-who bites my head off.”
“Aye, me too,” Amanda answered, waving a hand to dismiss me.
Was four months enough to get over someone? To heal from a broken heart? It seemed like a very short period of time compared to the five years we were together. Moving on was something that I found almost impossible, especially when everything around me reminded me of him, of us.
I headed towards the checkouts through the frozen aisle, the chill creeping over my still damp uniform. I shivered slightly and walked faster to my till, wishing I had brought a cardigan or at least a change of shirt.
After getting my seat ready and logging in, I glanced at the supervisor’s booth, hoping Susan wouldn’t be in. No such luck; she was in and giving me the evil eye.
Susan blatantly checked her watch and nodded. Ha! Two minutes to spare. Get that up you!
“It’s absolutely miserable outside, don’t you think?”
I didn’t have to look to know who had spoken. It was Mr Wilson, a man whose mannerisms reminded me of my own granddad. Glancing up at him, I smiled and nodded.
He came every Monday for the same items: a tin of cat food, a newspaper, and a bunch of pink flowers. It didn’t matter what kind they were as long as they were pink. This bunch had different shades, a mixture of roses and tulips, and I couldn’t help but take a whiff of them as soon as I passed them through the register, allowing their perfume to tickle my nose.
“My wee toes are freezing in this weather.” Mr Wilson smiled as he packed his shopping.
“Aye, it is very cold out there.”
With one hand, he retrieved a single ten-pound note and a hard-boiled sweet from his shirt pocket. He had been doing this every Monday for the past three years.
“Watch yourself. It might be wet. It’s a fresh one, you know. I made it this morning,” he said, referring to the note, just like every other Monday.
I was curious as to why he always bought the same items every week. Nothing more, nothing less. I made a mental note to remember to ask him the next time I saw him. My mind drifted to the people around me. You could spot the new parents with dark circles under their eyes, the couples that knew each other’s next move from sharing a lifetime together, and young couples holding hands.
After serving dozens of customers with their shopping, I finished my eight-hour shift and was ready to leave. On my way to the lockers to gather my jacket and bag, I saw Amanda serving a middle-aged woman. Even though she smiled, she looked bored, as if she hadn’t heard a word the woman had said.
Amanda nodded and handed the carefully packed meat over. She spotted me waving at her.
“All right, pal, busy?” I said, watching the customer leave.
“Not really, just the typical curtain-twitchers that come and tell me the newest gossip. The worst thing is, it’s from people I don’t even know,” she said. Her voice was loud enough for the woman she had just served to hear. Clearly offended, the woman muttered under her breath.
“You do know she heard, right?” I told her. I found it hard to hold back a laugh. Amanda didn’t mind what people thought about her.
Shrugging, Amanda replied, “Don’t care. So I was thinking, instead of going out, why don’t we stay in?”
I liked the idea much better than having to stand in a crowded bar. “That sounds like a good plan.”
She smiled, relieved. “So what about a film, junk food…? What do you think?”
“Aye, I’m up for that,” I replied. “I’ll get a bag ready and come over afterwards.”
“Awesome, I’ll have to get some munchies,” Amanda added. “Any requests?”
“I’ll get the wine,” I replied. “You can get the nachos.”
“Sounds good.” Her smile broadened.