She didn’t love it when shewasa teacher, though, so why would she love it now? The thought comes without conscious effort, and Lissa frowns to herself. She’s never been a teacher. But she can see it, standing in front of a class, a chalkboard behind her, looking at a class of children who must be aged around five or six. Speaking to them in French.
‘I reckon you need to be more targeted,’ Darcy continues, apparently not needing Lissa’s input. ‘Then you can tailor your CV better.’
‘Maybe,’ Lissa says, trying to shake off the weirdness of her thoughts just now. ‘Or maybe I just go back to marketing. Maybe it’s not the job I hate. Maybe it’s just Liam.’
‘That is too many “maybes” for me to believe you.Maybeyou should just quit. Then you’ll have The Fear and it’ll encourage you to really go for it.’
‘Is that aFriendsreference?’
Darcy puts a hand to her heart. ‘You know me too well.’
Lissa shakes her head. ‘I’m not quitting without another job to go to. I have rent and bills and …’ And a mother who depends on her. ‘And stuff,’ she finishes lamely. ‘Anyway, why are we only talking about me? You hate it there too.’
‘I don’thateit, I just don’t like being treated like I’m an idiot for most of the working week. But that’s not the point.Iam saving to go travelling. I’m going to quit when I have enough money to fund said travels, then I’m going to go off and figure out the meaning of life and everything.’
Lissa nods sagely. ‘Forty-two, I heard.’
Darcy grins. ‘What about if you try further afield? You could apply for a job anywhere, right?’
Lissa shakes her head. ‘I want to stay here.’ Not exactly true, but sheneedsto stay here. She can’t leave her mum alone. Besides, she could never just up and leave – she is nowhere near brave enough to do something like that.
‘All right then. Maybe you should try making your CV more interesting. Lie a bit. You know, like those actors who say they can horse-ride to get parts in films.’
‘Yes, and that famously goes really well when they have to get on a horse for the first time.’ But there might be something in that – not the lying part, but bulking up her CV. All she has on it is her degree, a stint as a receptionist at a hotel, a few temp jobs and the three years at Liam’s company. Not exactly inspiring to prospective employers.
She says goodbye to Darcy outside the coffee shop and they head off in different directions. Sunlight has broken through the clouds now, brightening up the sandstone buildings. She shoves her hands in her pockets as she walks, watches her breath steam out in front of her. It’s so cold now, it won’t be long until the Christmas drinks are on the menu – something to look forward to, given that she loves a good gingerbread latte.
She turns off the main high street, weaving her way home the long way. And perhaps it’s because Darcy’s comment about her CV is still playing on her mind that she notices it. The sign in the charity shop window. She slows to a stop, staring at it.
Help wanted.
Okay, it’s unpaid, and only a few hours a week, but it would help pad out her CV, wouldn’t it? Who doesn’t look favourably on someone who does a bit of charity work? Besides, maybe this is what she needs – something to make her feel like she is giving back, having some kind of purpose.
She takes a photo of the poster – with instructions to apply online – and finds she is smiling as she strides on. On impulse, she heads down Wood Street, then turns left, past a tapas bar and towards her favourite bookshop. Bath is great when it comes to bookshops, but Mr B’s Emporium is the best, in her opinion. Inside, it’s a labyrinth of shelves, filled floor to ceiling, and there are seats to curl up on and peruse the books, with staff who don’t make you feel judged for doing exactly that.
She smiles at the assistant behind the counter as she pushes the door open, inhaling that brilliant smell of new books, then moves past the other few customers browsing, towards non-fiction. She finds what she’s looking for – a small section about dreams – and runs a finger over the spines. Given that her Google search led her nowhere useful, maybe she ought to try reading a book about the subject instead?
She settles onWhat Your Dreams Are Telling You, which sounds nice and obvious. She’s opening the book, looking down at the first page, as she heads out of the shop, meaning it’s totally her fault when she walks straight into someone.
A tall, broad-shouldered someone, who smells faintly of sandalwood and is looking down at her out of very blue eyes. She takes a step back, attempting to hide her book behind her. A hand comes up to steady her, resting lightly against her forearm, and for a moment their gazes hold, a small smile playing around his lips, like somehow he isn’t surprised to see her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she blurts out.
The smile spreads. ‘Stopping you from falling over, apparently. And also – hi, Lissa. Nice to see you again.’
‘Sorry. I mean hi.’ She moves back ever so slightly, enough that his hand drops away from her arm. ‘Back in Bath again?’ She wonders what the chances are of randomly bumping into him. She supposes Bath isn’tthatbig. And he said he liked books, didn’t he? Though she feels the urge to point out this is a bookshop, not a library.
Ash hesitates a beat too long. ‘Oh, well. I’m actually staying for a bit. I’m needed here for now.’ His voice has a tone she knows well – one that means he doesn’t want to talk about it.
‘That’s nice,’ she says brightly. God, is she really this much of an idiot?That’s nice? She rocks back on her heels, not quite sure where to look. Is it awkward? Why is it awkward? She should leave, shouldn’t she?
‘So how’s Mark?’ he asks, before she can make her excuses. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the bookseller behind the counter eyeing them a little curiously.
‘You haven’t seen him?’
He shrugs. ‘Not for a while.’
‘Right. Well, umm, me neither. I mean,’ she continues quickly, ‘I’ve seen him at work, obviously. I just … We sort of … broke up.’ Not the right phrase, really, given they were never in a relationship, but at least it’s universally understood.
