Tears stung the back of her eyes. God damn it to hell, what was wrong with people? Why did colleagues resent her when she tried so very hard to stay out of their way? “I’ll try harder, I can make sure—”
“Laura, listen to me. Women like you should be the boss, and” — Gloria blew out a long breath — “In my studio there is room for only one boss. Me. This will be the same anywhere you go. You are a lion. Don’t cut yourself down to be an assistant starting from scratch. Strike out on your own. All you need is one big job that gets you noticed, and you’ll have them beating a path to your door.”
People walked past Laura as she sat alone thinking about Gloria’s advice. The Brighton Lanes, once the old fishing village, had become a super trendy neighbourhood, but they still held on to their old charm. A fabulous maze of twisting alleyways offering an extraordinary mix of antiques and jewellery shops nestling alongside designer boutiques and elegant cafes. It was her favourite part of the city.
But Brighton wasn’t cheap anymore. Each and every retail space cost thousands in rent alone. She could hardly make dresses on the side of the road.
Besides, the fashion world was small and gossip spread faster than `flu in winter. Who wanted to have a dress made by The Unwanted Bride?
Gloria’s advice was useless.
“It’s brilliant advice,” said Joanie when she returned a few minutes later. “You should absolutely start your own business.” She propped her elbows on the pretty mosaic-top table and leaned forward eyes shining. “I was just like you, trying to work for a horrible old man who shouted about everything. One day he called me a ‘North African bint who cooks gumbo’. I quit on the spot. The best thing I ever did because look at me now.”
“Yes, but you had investors to help you.”
“Investment?Boeph! I didn’t want to be bondaged to a bank.”
Laura suppressed a smile at the image of Joanie ‘bondaged’.
“No,” Joanie continued. “I was saving all the time while working for the old man. I knew my dream was to be my own boss.”
And there, right there, was where she had made her biggest mistake. Because while Joanie worked and saved to start a career, Laura had been saving for a man, any man. Suddenly she felt a wave of shame wash over her. Was she a lion? Or had she been cutting herself down to be a kitten for so long it'd stuck? Quiet inoffensive kitten Laura squashing down her ambition so as not to frighten men away. Playing by other people’s rules just so they would let her into their playground.
Joanie passed her a napkin to wipe her tears. “Is this for the job or the man?”
“For me.” Laura blew her nose.
Joanie was about to answer when her phone chimed with an incoming text message. Whoever it was must have been a friend because a happy smile broke on her face as she got busy texting. It looked like a deep conversation because it took a long time.
Laura moved her empty cup and bent to pick up her bag from under the table. “I’d better leave you to it.”
Joanie held up a finger indicating she needed a minute. “It’s just a friend having a problem.”
Laura waited.
“Millie is my dearest friend. I want to give her a gift,” Joanie said while still texting. “Do you mind if you can’t have a car?”
“You’re asking me or the person on the phone?”
Joanie looked up. “Do you mind?”
“No, I don’t mind, I take public transport everywhere.”
“No busses, no cars, no vans, not even motorbikes.” Joanie had the absorbed excited look she usually got when inventing a new recipe. “In fact, they don’t have streetlights either. You can’t go anywhere after dark, so there is no nightlife to speak of especially in winter like now. Would you mind a place like that?”
“Why would I go to a place like that?”
Joanie shrugged. “To make a beautiful wedding dress for a girl marrying an aristocrat.”
Chapter Three
He wasthe only one not looking at the islands. That’s why she noticed him.
So she had remained on deck and watched as first the island of Alderney, then Guernsey passed by. Finally, the tiny green and pink La Canette came into view on the horizon, floating like a swan on the grey waves. Other passengers came out on deck to watch the pretty island’s coastline that curved and twisted in and out of tiny coves.
They were still too far to distinguish what plants flowered in February and gave the land that pink colour, but it held everyone’s attention. Which was why Laura noticed him.
Unlike everyone else. He stood at the opposite railing looking back over the waves towards where they’d come from. Was he seasick? His gaze was fixed on the grey sea intently as if it was a book he was trying to read, and not a happy book at that. He was very still, arms resting on the railing, hands clasped easily together, dark blond hair falling over his forehead and into his eyes.
