I take a deep breath, clenching my fists together behind my back, my smile automatically settling on my face.
“Yes, of course.”
What was that I said earlier about today’s list of jobs being less than yesterday's?
So much for my small win.
I’m sitting in the staff room, curled up with my legs to my chest on the sofa, finishing what remains of my lunch when Sam walks in, ruffling my hair as he goes past. He stops in the kitchen, opening the fridge before casting a glance my way.
“So, what did you agree to this time?” he says, his brow arching.
“It’s fine, Sam, really. I don’t mind doing the extra jobs,” the lie rolls off my tongue so easily now that I almost feel bad for myself.
Almost.
“Ruth told me that Kate phoned in sick. Of course, none of us are surprised,” he says, filling his cup with hot water. He turns to me, gesturing with the kettle, “Want one?” he asks me, moving to grab another mug.
“No, I’m fine, thank you. Just finished my coffee.”
My third coffee of the day, actually. Not that I’d let him know that.
He has been trying to reduce my caffeine intake for years now.
He will never succeed.
“So, if I had to guess,” he mumbles. “He asked you to take Kate’s duties today?” he asks me, stirring the milk into his mug and throwing the spoon into the sink before making his way to the table and sitting in front of me.
“Um, yes, actually. He did, but it’s not so bad. He just wants me to clear the overgrowth at the outer boundary,” I say, looking back down at my lunch and placing the rest of my uneaten sandwich back onto my plate. No way will I tell him he’s also asked me to work my day off.
I will never hear the end of it.
He shakes his head at me.
“Shit, El. That’s a long ass job. That’s not even Kate’s job either. I told him I’m on overgrowth duty,” he says, giving me that pitiful look he usually sends my way.
“Well, it’s a good job I started my day early then, isn’t it?” I say, clicking my tongue. “I’m gonna head out there now.” Scraping the leftovers of my lunch into the bin, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I’ll do the overgrowth, don’t worry,” he says through a mouthful of food.
“Sam, I promise you it won’t even take me long. Do you know where the good cutting blades are?”
“Take mine,” he drops his food down and moves to grab something from his pocket.
“Oh no, that’s okay. I can just find some in the shed.” I say.
“Elodie, just take mine. I don’t need them today. I’m in the glasshouses. Water and moisture checks.” He grins at me.
Lucky bastard.
“Well, if you’re sure. Thank you.” I say. He hands me a small pocket blade, his ‘lucky’ blade as he calls it. With its pure white handle, it looks like some kind of family heirloom. Though heirloom seems kind of ironic, especially when I know his emergency contact form is empty.
Just like mine is.
We never talk about it, but it’s a weight we both carry.
“That ivy is stubborn, take this.” I grab the small blade from his hand, placing it gently in my overalls pocket.
“Thank you, I won’t be long.”
