The day after her interview, Holly started the new job.

On her arrival at the main entrance, she was impressed that Mr Kellington himself had taken the time to give her a tour of the large three-storey premises.

Afterwards, he spoke to her for a good thirty minutes in his office, availing her of the family history behind the company and the ethos that he said made Kellington’s different.

‘We’re a business like any other,’ he began, lifting his chin and tweaking his black-and-white-spotted bow tie. ‘But our customer service must never be sacrificed in favour of the balance sheet. As my father told me when I started here fifty years ago as an apprentice: the customer always comes first at Kellington’s.’

Holly nodded in all the right places, but as Mr Kellington continued, she started to understand.

‘When a customer approaches you, we don’t click the stopwatch here, Holly. If they want to talk about the holiday they’ve just returned from in the Caribbean, then listen. Maybe tell them it’s a place you’ve always wanted to go, or talk about your own holiday experiences to build some rapport.’

Fat chance of that, Holly thought. She hadn’t taken a holiday in years.

‘Get to know the products inside out so you can best advise the customer on what they need. They might not know themself, and you can help them make the necessary decisions. And the most important thing of all,’ Mr Kellington added, ‘is to remember there’s no hard sell here. You will receive a good commission structure for all goods sold, but we want our customers to return, not to feel they’ve been pressured or fleeced.’

Holly immediately thought about her last job before leaving Manchester. It had been in a vast, impersonal call centre, selling life insurance. The manager had told her to say literally anything to get the customers to buy, particularly during December, when family took priority over telesales products and any spare cash was spent on presents.

‘Scare them with the facts,’ he’d said. ‘Ask them what good all their gifts will do if their family get lumbered with crippling funeral costs.’

‘That seems a bit mean,’ Holly had countered. ‘To be talking about death, I mean, at Christmas.’

The manager had laughed at her naïvety. ‘It’s a fact of life, love! Try googling celebs who’ve died on Christmas Day; you’ll be surprised how many there are. Rattling off a few well-known names who’ve carked it soon brings it home to the customer that these things can happen to anyone. Get their bank details and get them off the phone quick as you can, so you can sign up the next one.’

She’d lasted almost three weeks there, until a recently widowed lady had broken down when Holly had used the ‘Christmas death’ sales line. She’d decided there and then that she couldn’t do it any more.

So when Mr Kellington outlined the exact opposite policy at the store, Holly smiled appreciatively and nodded.

‘As my father once said to me, people buy from people,’ he stressed. ‘And I would add that they especially buy from people that they trust and like.’

She left the MD’s office not only feeling that she knew practically every last sales tip that Mr Kellington’s father had ever uttered, but also with a sense that there was a chance she might make a real difference here, and be good at it too.

That wasn’t something she’d been used to in her previous call-centre roles, where new staff were viewed as constant, transient fodder.

It would’ve been easy to take everything Mr Kellington had said with a pinch of salt and concentrate on maximising her own sales – she’d been very pleasantly surprised at the excellent commission structure – but Holly decided to follow his advice.

He might appear a touch eccentric, wandering around the shop floor with the little notebook he scribbled in constantly, and his striking bow ties – a different design for each day, apparently – but clearly he knew his stuff. And she could tell that his store was a personal passion rather than simply a means of earning as much money as possible.

The assistant manager, Josh Peterson, was particularly helpful. He sort of took Holly under his wing, giving her bits of useful inside information, like Mr Kellington’s bizarre bow ties. He also pointed out Emily Beech, the top saleswoman in the company.

The store showrooms were split into three levels. Bedrooms downstairs, lavish home accessories and staff offices upstairs, and on the ground floor, which was to be Holly’s base, lounge and dining furniture and also lighting.

Holly would be one of four sales assistants working the ground floor, and Emily Beech was another.

Josh lowered his voice, even though Emily was busy with customers over the other side of the showroom.

‘She’s only worked here for a year, but between you and me, with commission, her salary has just exceeded thirty grand. That’s considerably more than any of the other sales staff. Jeez, it’s not that far off my own pay.’

Holly’s eyes widened. She thought of what a salary like that could do for her in terms of paying off her debt and achieving the fresh start she craved so badly… Everything suddenly felt so much more achievable.

When the recruitment consultant had flagged up this job, Holly had expected a standard retail assistant post, paying the minimum wage. She’d imagined it would entail nothing more strenuous than giving customers a bit of information about the products and then pointing them in the direction of the cash till.

Now Josh was telling her that her modest £13K basic salary could be inflated to massive proportions. If she did the job right.

When Josh returned to his office and the customers had left, Holly walked over to Emily Beech.

The shop was quieter now, possibly as it was almost lunchtime, and Emily was standing near the expansive front window, checking her phone.

As Holly made her nervous approach, she registered Emily’s well-cut navy trouser suit and crisp white blouse. She couldn’t help wondering how this elegant woman managed to stand all day in the towering black patent stilettos that encased her feet.

A sleek butter-blonde bob hovered, razor sharp, over Emily’s shoulders, framing a perfectly made-up but curiously expressionless face.

Holly suddenly became painfully aware of her own dull complexion. The lank hair that she’d tucked impatiently behind her ears to keep it off her face until she could muster the enthusiasm to wash and style it; her bitten, unvarnished nails.

Now, she wished she’d made more of an effort before leaving the house that morning, not that she’d have looked much different. There was only so much you could do with dry, overdyed hair and dowdy, ill-fitting clothes.

It was difficult to be motivated when there was so much that needed attention. But Holly reminded herself that if she could earn a salary remotely near Emily’s, then she too would be able to invest in a new wardrobe and a good haircut.

She felt like a penguin waddling across the shop in her scuffed flat shoes, but she forced herself to go through with it. Josh had mentioned that all the sales assistants were on the same level; Emily had no seniority over Holly.

She wasn’t going to change her life by running away from an opportunity to get on the right side of someone who could teach her a lot, even if that meant sucking up to her a bit. It simply had to be done.

She stretched her mouth into something she hoped resembled a friendly smile.

‘Hi, I’m Holly! Pleased to meet you.’ She extended a hand. ‘I’m really looking forward to getting stuck into the job. Josh was telling me you’re a great saleswoman.’

‘The best saleswoman, I think you’ll find,’ Emily said coolly, without looking up from her phone. Slowly, indifferent eyes drifted over Holly, but her proffered hand was ignored. ‘Let’s hope you’re a bit tougher than the last one we had here. She ran off crying after a couple of weeks. Pathetic.’

‘Oh!’ Holly swallowed, taken aback. ‘I didn’t know that. Anyway, maybe we can have a chat over coffee or something. I’d welcome any tips you could give me.’

‘I don’t socialise at work if I can help it,’ Emily said airily. ‘I’m here to make money, not friends.’

‘I just wondered if you’d have time to talk a bit about how you close your sales. I’ve heard that’s the tricky bit, and—’

‘Sorry. I take it you’ve heard the phrase time is money?’ Emily cut her off, striding away on her spiked heels. ‘See you around,’ she called over her shoulder.

For the rest of the day, Holly purposely stayed in the background, well away from Emily’s barbed comments. She floated around the periphery of the large showroom, making notes on the furnishings and exchanging pleasantries with customers.

However, behind her useful naïve facade, she was learning fast.

She might appear a little shy and uncertain, wandering here and there without any real purpose. In fact she was a woman on a mission, discreetly shadowing her colleague.

Emily might refuse to have a conversation with her, but she couldn’t stop Holly watching and learning.

As far as Holly was concerned, securing this job had been a gift that ultimately could help her find Evan quicker.

She’d already decided that she wouldn’t be dissuaded by someone like Emily Beech.