“Cabbage cakes,” she said taking a seat. “My mum made them.” She added shyly hoping for Laura’s approval.
The girl watched her nervously as she took a small experimental taste. “Yummy,” she said. “Is it a traditional dish from your country?”
Many of the women here were Albanians. They usually took it in turns to provide lunch which they ate together and chatted in quiet voices. Several spoke little English. Tirana and her mum were the exceptions. The girl in particular seems to have grown up in England and spoke like a typical northerner.
“Tell me something,” Laura started. “Is your name written the same way as the capital of Albania?”
“Yes.” The girl flushed with pleasure to find out that Laura had taken an interest. “Like the capital of Bulgaria is Sofia.”
“I guess it’s unusual, you’d never find someone named, London or Edinburgh. I like your name, does it mean anything?”
“Tirana!” Mrs Wheatly, the manager, called. “If you’re well enough to sit chatting, then you’re well enough to work.”
Almost immediately, the girl’s mother, Rovena, got up from her lunch with the small group of Albanian ladies and came over. “She was very weak this morning. I didn’t want her to come today.”
“She’s not too weak to chat on social media,” Mrs Wheatly huffed. “This can’t go on. We can’t afford to carry dead weight.” Then she turned to Tirana. “What’s wrong with you anyway?”
The girl, suddenly anxious, looked to her mother.
Rovena inserted herself between her daughter and the manager. “She’s going home to sleep.” Then she said something in rapid Albanian to Tirana who went to take her coat from the hangers by the door.
“I’m putting you on final warning.” Mrs Wheatly glared.
Laura had to say something. “I’m sorry, Mrs Wheetly, it’s my fault. I invited her to sit with me and insisted she stay and talk.”
“Maybe. But she’s not even finished hemming the new jacquard drapes,” Mrs Wheatly was not mollified. “She’s been on them since Monday. I’ll have to dock her pay unless they’re done by next week.”
“I will finish them for her.” Rovena’s worried eyes darted to the main doors as her daughter hurried out.
“You have your own work to do.” The manager walked away.
Rovena followed. “It’ll be done. Even if I stay and work all night.”
Left on her own, Laura felt guilty. She really hadn’t realized there was any kind of urgency. As far as anyone could tell, the cloth being woven was rolled up and stored. Were they hoping for a major order? An exhibition?
She finished her lunch and went back to work. But the question remained at the back of her mind when at the end of the day the factory was locked up and Laura walked out. By then, the day had moved into dusk, and the sun hung just above the horizon. A ball of orange on the edge of the sea. Something about the colour held her attention.
Instead of walking home immediately, she strolled to the back of the building and leaned her back against the wall to wait for sunset. From this position, the side of the cliff was covered in the lilac sea daisies, but in the weak light they seemed almost purple. The sea beyond had also deepened to a purple-blue with reflected red and orange ripples from the setting sun. If only she could paint a shawl with those colours.
Suddenly there was a thump as something big dropped off the roof and landed beside her. A man wearing a balaclava. She gave an involuntary scream and retreated further back. Unfortunately, because of the structure of the building, she was cornered between the wall and a stone support column.
The man turned to face her.
It was Adam. In a woollen hat, not a balaclava.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“What did you think would happen when you jump in front of me like a demon out of the sky?” she snapped. Her heart beat nineteen to the dozen.
“I didn’t know you were here. You were very quiet,” he argued with infuriating logic.
“What was I supposed to do? Sing? Whistle? Call out my name every few minutes to alert any would-be assassins lurking on the roof?”
“Sorry,” he said again, not sounding sorry at all.
“What were you doing on the roof anyway?”
He took off is hat and ruffled his fair hair with an impatient hand. “I was watching the sunset.”
