Chapter Ten
Christmas, it seemed, had arrived at Carroll's Confectionary. As I entered the building that morning, there was a cheerful buzz in the air, and an atmosphere of growing excitement and festive jollity.
The joys of the season seemed to have bypassed Christopher Carroll's office, however. He was in a vile mood, and the morning passed far too slowly for my liking.
As I walked into the canteen that lunchtime, it felt like another world. Cheesy Christmas songs blasted out from the kitchen, and people were singing along as they queued to be served.
One, or two people, even wore Santa hats, one of them being Don. "All right, Marley?" he said, grinning widely at me, as I wandered over to stand behind him, tray in hand. "Soon be Christmas."
"Still three weeks to go," I pointed out. "What on earth are you wearing?"
"Me Father Christmas hat. Do you like it?"
"No. You look a right tosspot." I glanced around. "Everyone seems to be in a good mood."
"Well, a lot of them were out at the weekend, at Sadie's wedding, and had a right good time of it. Talking about what they got up to always cheers them up."
"Hmm."
I thought, on balance, it was no wonder I wasn't feeling the festive love. What with my mother's secret date, the disastrous lunch at Olivia's, a bag of expensive baubles no one wanted, and my less-than-successful visit to Great Uncle Charles, it hadn't been much of a weekend.
I did need to pop by Fox Lodge when I left work, though, and make sure that he was all right. He was an awful man, but he was still a human being who needed looking after, whether he wanted to be looked after, or not.
"Did you go to the wedding, then?" I asked him. It rankled that I hadn't been invited. I knew Olivia and David had been asked to the evening do, although they'd declined, admitting to me that neither of them had the energy. At least they'd had the option, though.
Wild horses wouldn't have dragged me near Sadie Black's wedding, but it would have been nice to be given the chance to refuse. I rarely got invited anywhere by the women at the factory, to be honest. Not that it bothered me. They were nearly all married, or engaged, or living with someone, and most of them had kids. I didn't want to hear about their kids. They were more Olivia's type of people than mine.
"No. Had other fish to fry,” he said. “Had a cracking weekend, me. You don't look too happy, though. What's up?"
"Nothing. Family stuff."
"Ah. Family stuff." He nodded. "That'll do it, every time." He smiled and nudged me. "Cheer up, kid. Things are never as black as they're painted."
"That's all you know." I sighed. "Found something out this weekend, and it upset me."
Why had I said that? I certainly hadn't meant to. I hadn't even realised it was still bothering me.
"Oh, aye? And what's that?" There was a sympathetic tone to his voice, and I trusted Don as much as I trusted anyone, and more, even, than I trusted most. He was a decent, straight-talking sort of fella.
Besides, who else would I confide in?
"My dad got in touch with my great-uncle."
His smile disappeared. "Your dad? When?"
"Oh, a couple of years ago," I said hastily.
He looked baffled. "So ...?"
"So, nothing really," I admitted. "It just threw me, that's all. I mean, we haven't heard from him for sixteen years, but he went to see Uncle Charles, asking for money. He never bothered to get in touch with any of us. At least, I don't think he did. Mum never said, and I'm sure she would have. But can you imagine how she'd feel, if she knew that?"
He stayed quiet, chewing his lip.
"How could he do that? How could he come to our village and not contact any of us? We don't mean anything to him, at all, do we?"
He sighed and put his arm around me. "Sorry, Marley. This is shit. He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve any of you."
"No, well. You won't say anything to David, or Olivia, will you? I don't see any point in upsetting things."
"No, no. 'Course not. I don't see why your uncle had to tell you, to be honest. Just upset you for nowt, really."
"Yeah, well, he has to take his pleasure where he can find it these days," I said grimly.
We each ordered lunch and carried our trays over to a table in the corner. "He's not well at the moment," I told him, as we sat down. "Uncle Charles, I mean. I went round to his house yesterday, and he was quite poorly. In bed, actually. I'm going again after work, to give him some tea and make sure he's okay."
"That's nice of you," Don said, though he eyed me curiously. "I gather you're the only one who visits him. Is that right?"
I flushed a little, all too aware of what he'd be thinking. "Yeah. Well, he's got no one else. If I didn't go, he'd be all alone."
"Hmm." He dipped a slice of bread and butter into his baked beans and chewed thoughtfully. "Not a nice man, from what I've heard, though."
"Not really." I shrugged. "He spends all his time pointing out that I'm still single and childless, while Olivia's happily married with kids. As if that's all that matters! And he can talk, for God's sake. He's still family, though." I hesitated, then gave a self-conscious laugh. "I thought maybe he was the one I had to save. I'm pretty sure now that I was wrong."
He blinked. "Save? What do you mean, save?"
Blushing, I told him of my recent conversation with Olivia. "So, I thought, I mean, I think, that I was given another chance for a reason. You know. A purpose."
"You don't just think that's ..." Don paused, as if searching for the right word.
"Unlikely?"
"Bollocks."
"Oh, well." Nonplussed, I took a gulp of tea while considering the matter. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't."
"You're not serious?" Don laughed. "Liv's got a vivid imagination, that's all I can say. Either that, or she's winding you up. Come on! You had an accident, and luckily for you, someone was around to save you. Doesn't mean you have to pay the universe back by saving someone else."
"Suppose not." I sighed. "You may be right. It's just that I had this dream afterwards, too, and it all seemed to be pointing me in that direction."
"Oh, well, if you dreamed it, it must be true." Don's eyes glittered with amusement. "Mind you, it may not be out of the question, after all. This is the season of miracles, and I mean, think about it. Who saved you, eh?"
I frowned. "You know very well. What's that got to do with it?"
"Well, maybe that has everything to do with it. Maybe Kit Carroll is the reason you were saved."
"What?" No way in hell would I admit that the same thought had crossed my mind. That would make it all far too real. "You're crackers. Eat your chop."
He winked at me, so I wasn't sure if he was serious, or not.
"Where's David?" I asked, deciding to change the subject. I glanced around the busy canteen. "And Olivia, come to that."
"David's got a dental check-up. He needed Liv to hold his hand," Don said while digging his knife and fork into a juicy pork chop.
I rolled my eyes. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"So," Don said, after swallowing a forkful of chips, all smothered in tomato sauce, "not feeling the Christmas spirit, eh?"
"Would you?" I tried hard not to pull a face on noticing a splodge of ketchup at the corner of Don's lip. "I've got a bagful of Christmas baubles that no one wants, a poky flat that means I can't have a tree bigger than a pot plant, and a great uncle who needs me to take care of him, but makes me feel about as welcome as a chocolate gateau at a Lightweights meeting."
"I should think a chocolate gateau would be very welcome at a Lightweights meeting," Don said. "All them dieters would gnaw your arm off for a slice of cake."
"You know what I mean." I sighed. "And then there's this place. Him." I cast my eyes toward the ceiling, as if Christopher Carroll was hovering above us, somewhere around the garish fluorescent light.
"Who? God?"
"In his opinion, maybe. Christopher Carroll, of course. Big boss man."
"Ooh. What's he done now?"
"You mean apart from turn up unannounced and unwanted? He's been in a right mood all day. Talk about miserable. You want the Christmas spirit? Don't go looking in that office, that's all I can say."
"Things tense up there, are they?"
"He's bossy and arrogant, and he's been snapping my head off all morning." I pushed my plate away, not feeling hungry. "I'm fed up."
"Things will get better," Don soothed. "He's just finding his feet. Imagine how it feels for him, having to step into Jack's shoes and carry the burden of this place on his own."
"Should have made Jack stay, then, shouldn't he?" I snapped. "And Jack's another one that's annoyed me. How could he do that? Just walk away without telling me, without warning ..." My eyes filled with tears, and Don reached over and squeezed my hand.
"Strikes me that this is more about your dad, love. Still hurting, eh? After all this time."
"Don't be ridiculous," I said, tucking my hair behind my ears and sitting up straight. "Why would I miss someone who's a total arsehole?" I shook my head. "Men are all shits."
"Charming," Don said. "I'll try not to take offence."
"Well, not you, obviously. You're all right."
"Cheers."
"And my grandad was lovely, too."
"And David."
"Yeah, I guess David's nice enough."
"And Jack's a decent bloke. I know he left without warning, but everyone's entitled to a break, and he must have felt he needed it."
I half-laughed. "Okay, okay, Jack's all right, too."
"And Kit's done the decent thing, turning up and stepping into the breach like that," he pointed out, his eyes twinkling.
I shook my head. "Oh, no. You've gone too far with that one. I will never say that."
A commotion broke out at the counter, interrupting the conversation, and turning that way, I took in the unlikely sight of Christopher himself, standing by the counter, arguing with Liz, one of the canteen ladies, who had paused in her task of serving chips to a couple of men in the queue.
Don frowned. "What's to do? Hang on a minute, love."
He stood and hurried over, and after a moment’s hesitation, I thought sod it, and hurried after him.
"It's Christmas, for God's sake," one man was saying, sounding quite annoyed. "You can't be serious."
"Jack never had a problem with it," Liz said, her face red, whether with embarrassment, or anger, I couldn't be sure. "Nothing wrong with a bit of Christmas music, is there?"
She looked appealingly at everyone in the queue, and they all shook their heads and murmured words to the effect that it cheered everyone up and Kit was just being mean.
"All right, folks," Don soothed, "let's calm it down, shall we? What's the problem?"
"It's him," said the man, nodding at Kit. "Throwing his weight around."
"I'm sure we can sort it out, whatever the problem is," Don said. "Come on, lads, it's nearly Christmas."
"That's our point," said Liz. "It's December. Why shouldn't I bring my Now That's What I Call Christmas CD in to play? Cheers everyone up, doesn't it? Puts them all in the mood for it."
"For God's sake, we've got over three weeks to go," Christopher snapped. "You'll be sick of hearing it in a few days. Besides, I can't hear myself think in here."
"Don't need to, do we?" A factory worker that I vaguely knew glared at him. "This is our place for recreation. We come here to eat and chat. and—yes—to listen to music. If we choose to listen to Christmas songs, that's our business. We do our work, and this doesn't interfere with that, so I don't see what your problem is."
"My problem," Christopher snapped, "is that I want to talk to you all, and I don't intend to compete with bloody Shakin' Stevens to do so."
Liz tutted. "Well, you only had to say." She reached over and switched off the CD player.
A heavy silence descended as everyone stared resentfully at our boss.
I felt uncomfortable. Why had he been so confrontational? He'd only had to ask Liz to turn the music off while he made his announcement. Why did he have to be so high-handed all the time? No wonder he got everyone's back up.
Watching him intently, I noticed that he looked as awkward as I felt. What was all it about?
"I just wanted to say ..." Christopher's voice trailed off as he looked around, then he straightened and said, rather defiantly, "I just wanted to inform you that we will be stopping production of all LuvRocks products, with immediate effect."
There were gasps as people exchanged incredulous glances.
"We'll be increasing production of our own brands from this point onwards. I'll be calling a meeting with some of you this afternoon, during which I'll outline my plans for where we go from here."
"But the LuvRocks contract is massive," protested one man. "We can't just chuck it out of the window."
"I can do what I like," Christopher reminded him. "In my opinion, the LuvRocks brand was never something Carroll's Confectionary should have been associated with. It's time to return to the good old-fashioned, high-quality products we were once renowned for."
"Just 'cos you don't like the LuvRocks stuff, doesn't mean you should ditch it," said another factory worker angrily. "That contract's worth a fortune. You're putting all our jobs at risk."
"I can assure you, I'm doing what I think is best for the company," Christopher said coldly. "And may I remind you that I'm in charge here, and I make the decisions. This isn't up for discussion. This is what's happening. That's all I have to say." He turned to Liz, who stood there with her mouth wide open. "You can play your precious Christmas music now. Enjoy."
He walked out of the canteen without a backward glance, leaving everyone staring after him.
As soon as he’d gone, an outburst of indignant cries began, as people digested the huge difference the changes would make to the company, and debated whether Kit Carroll actually had the right to effectively tear up the contract that Jack had worked so hard to obtain.
Don and I returned to our seats. "Well," Don said, shaking his head, "there's a turn up for the books."
"He's crazy," I said, bewildered. "I mean, I hate that contract, too. LuvRocks has no class, but it pays the wages. For him to just turn his back on it is financial suicide. What the hell is he playing at?"
"Dodgy move," Don admitted. "Could go pear-shaped, and then Jack won't be happy."
"He'll be furious. I mean, does Christopher even have the authority to go above Jack's head like that?"
"Must have. Wouldn't have done it, otherwise. That's a lot of power to suddenly be handed out of the blue." Don chewed his chop thoughtfully. "Reckon he may be feeling the pressure."
I remembered the look in Christopher's eyes as he started to make his announcement. Had I been imagining it, or had he looked really pensive at first? He had such a lot of responsibility, and so little experience. It must be terrifying for him.
Growing aware that Don was watching me intently, I flushed. "Still think he's making a mistake," I muttered, stabbing my jacket potato like it was to blame for it all.
"Seems like he has some problems," Don mused. "He's not a happy bunny, is he? I dunno, Marley. I reckon Liv might have been onto something, after all. Strikes me, maybe you really are here to save Kit Carroll."
I almost choked on the piece of tuna I was eating, and clutched the table in panic. God, not again! I took a deep breath and steadied myself. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Think about it. Who seems the most stressed out of everyone you know? Who's the one person who definitely has no Christmas spirit? Who's been thrown into a life he's not prepared for? Who seems completely out of his depth? Who was it who saved you in the first place?" He sat back and folded his arms, grinning at me. "And," he added, "it was a LuvRocks penis you choked on. Fate." He picked up his knife and fork again and beamed at me. "That's what it is. Telling you, girl. Reckon you're here to save Kit Carroll. There's your mission. Best get to it."
I couldn't think of a reply to that. The last person in the world I'd try to help was that man, even if he did have beautiful eyes, the most divine dark curls, and a voice that could melt ice. After everything Christopher had done to me, I would rather die than save him, whether he'd saved my life, or not.
***
Kit heard Marley's door open, and to his annoyance, his stomach flipped. He'd seen her face, when he made his little announcement in the canteen, and knowing Marley, she wouldn't think twice about telling him what she thought of him.
He waited, fingers tapping on the desk. When his own door didn't open, he realised he'd been holding his breath and exhaled slowly. Frowning, he fiddled with a pen, wondering what she was playing at. No reaction? Seriously?
He realised suddenly that he was experiencing a stab of disappointment, and stood up, angry with himself. It was none of Marley's business what he did, and why should Kit care whether she had an opinion, or not, anyway?
He rubbed his forehead, staring out of the window at the car park below him. A little blue Corsa caught his eye. It was Marley's. No flash sports car for her, after all. He wouldn't have thought such an ordinary car would have been her style. Come to think of it, shouldn't a little princess arrive by horse and carriage? He'd watched her drive up in the Corsa many times since his return. She had a small, plastic Smurf dangling from her mirror. He even knew the registration number, he realised with a start. God, that was worrying.
The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly on, and Kit cursed under his breath. It was no good. He had to get it over and done with. Determined not to betray his nerves, he threw open the office door and peered round at Marley.
Sitting there typing, she seemed oblivious to his presence, but he knew for a fact that she couldn't have missed the sound of the door opening. So, she was ignoring him, giving him the silent treatment. How childish was that?
"Can you make me a coffee, please?" He could get his own coffee. He usually did, in fact, but he was determined to remind her who was boss.
Marley didn't even look at him. "Won't be a minute. I'll just finish this." She carried on typing for what seemed like forever, until his nerves jangled.
"I would like a coffee now," he said. "You can finish that later."
She shrugged. "Whatever you say, boss."
Was that sarcasm? Kit was bloody sure that was sarcasm. And she still hadn't looked at him. Angrily, he withdrew into his office and slammed the door behind him.
When Marley arrived with the coffee, he was very busy. Far too busy to look at her, anyway, so he had no idea if she was trying to make eye contact with him. He'd bet she was. A person couldn't give someone coffee and not look at them, could they? Or maybe she was deliberately looking away, just to wind him up?
Kit wouldn't put it past her.
Unable to help himself, he looked up at her, only to find her staring down at him, a stony expression on her face. Kit swallowed. "Have you got something to say?"
"What could I possibly have to say?"
He took the coffee from her outstretched hand, dying to challenge her, but unable to bring himself to do so. How did she do that? God, she was an impossible woman. She'd been a nightmare kid, but as an adult ...
Marley smiled sweetly at him and turned to leave, and Kit placed his coffee on the desk and forced himself to relax.
"Oh!" Marley's voice cut through his thoughts and set every nerve end jangling again. "There was one thing."
He tensed, waiting for it.
"Did you want a biscuit with that?"
Kit glared at her. "Why don't you just come out with it?" Damn!
Marley smiled again. She arched one of her perfectly shaped brows. "Come out with what?"
He tilted his chin defiantly. "I saw your face! When I made that announcement in the canteen, I saw the look you gave me. Go on, you may as well get it over with. It will make good practice for this afternoon, when I hold the meeting."
"I don't know what you mean," she assured him. "I think you're overwrought. Maybe the pressure is too much for you. Perhaps you should call Jack to come home."
"Don't you dare," he said, his voice deceptively quiet.
"Dare what?"
"Imply that I'm not fit to run this place."
Dropping all pretence, Marley turned to face him fully, hands on hips. "Well, are you?"
Kit gaped, stunned at the nerve of her. "Are you serious?"
"You know nothing about this company. The LuvRocks contract is massive. Okay, I'll admit, I was never very happy with it, either. I think the company's tacky and tasteless, and yes, I agree with you that Carroll's should be moving away from it, and back towards our own products."
"So, what's your problem?"
"My problem is that it takes time. You can't just decide on a whim that you want to end your association with LuvRocks! Do you have any idea how hard Jack worked to get that contract in the first place? And did it never occur to you that he did that for a reason? The factory wasn't doing too well, until LuvRocks came along. If you'd bothered to research, at all—”
"I did research! I'm well aware of what was happening before the dratted contract. Nevertheless, I'm determined to take Carroll's back to its roots."
"And to hell with what Jack thinks?" Marley glared at him. "While the cat's away, and all that. Have you even told him? Because I think someone should. You have no right—”
"I have every right!" Kit's voice was strained, and he could feel his heart pounding. "How dare you lecture me? You know nothing about me, nothing about Carroll's."
"I know a damn sight more than you do," she began, but he banged his hand on the desk, shutting her up.
"If you knew as much as you think you do, you'd know that this company doesn't belong to Jack. It belongs to me. Jack was put in place as manager here by me. Do you understand that? Is that clear enough for you? I am Carroll's Confectionary, and what I say goes. I don't have to run anything past Jack, or get his permission. Get it?"
She very obviously did get it, as she went quite pale and simply stared at him, her hazel eyes large and bewildered. Kit felt a wave of remorse as he watched her struggling to absorb that information. He'd been unforgivably rude to her, shouting like that. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to raise my voice. It's been a trying day." He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
There was quiet for a moment, then Marley said, "I'd better get back to work."
"Yeah, yeah." He picked up a pen, tapping it distractedly on the desk. "I'll be away tomorrow, by the way. In fact, I'll be away for a couple of days."
"Right."
They looked at each other. She seemed as shell-shocked as he felt. Kit looked away first. "Thanks for the coffee."
"No problem."
Marley closed the door after her, and dropping the pen, he let out a loud sigh—though, whether one of regret, relief, or sheer frustration, he simply couldn't say.