Edie gave her a thoughtful look. Then, deciding not to voice her thoughts, guided her in.
After a therapeutic walk in Bluebell Woods, a heavenly body massage and delicious chicken casserole, they both relaxed by the open fire with a glass of red wine. Adira couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so peaceful.
‘Are you happy, Adira?’ Edie suddenly asked, as she watched her gaze into the flames.
After giving it some thought, Adira looked into her gran’s eyes. ‘No.I don’t think I am.’ She took another sip of wine and turned back to watch the fire.
‘When have you been at your happiest?’ pressed Edie.
Again, after giving the question consideration, she replied after sighing. ‘Probably as a child, when you gave me that beautiful gypsy caravan for my tenth birthday. I felt so free, at one with nature, even though I was only in the back garden,’ she smiled.
There was a pause before Edie spoke.
‘Maybe that’s something to think about.’
Adira frowned slightly, but was far too tired to talk anymore, her eyelids were practically closing.
‘Time for bed, my girl.’
As Adira’s head hit the pillow, she fell into the deepest, most blissful night’s sleep she’d had in a long time, oblivious of the impact her gran’s words would have.
‘Adira, you’re late again,’ Richard stated in a flat tone.
Glancing at her watch, she replied, ‘No, Richard, I think you’ll find I’m actually bang on time.’
‘Your client’s coming this morning now, in about ten minutes,’ he informed her officiously.
‘Since when?’
‘Since eight p.m. last night when I emailed you.’ He smiled self-righteously and returned back to his laptop.
Smug bastard, Adira thought gritting her teeth. Did the guy ever switch off? At eight p.m. last night she had been travelling back from Oxford, not scouring her work emails. He’d obviously sent the message late, deliberately hoping she wouldn’t read it – she hadn’t.
It was an effort getting out of bed that morning to come back into work at all after such a relaxing weekend. That knot in her stomach started to tighten.
Grabbing the client’s file out of the tray, she sat down at her desk and opened it. Quickly scanning the neatly printed notes told her everything she needed to know. A rich, successful man, divorcing his wife and wanting it to cost him as little as possible.Same old, Adira thought, rolling her eyes. So, it was down to her to squabble with the wife’s representative and thrash out some sort of settlement, which, if either had any sense, could be reached between themselves, without the legal costs. Love and money, it made people do the strangest things, well according to her gran anyway. Thinking of Edie made her warm inside.
‘Adira, your client’s arrived!’ called Richard, looking out of the chamber’s window.
The warmth turned to cold. Adira joined Richard to see a chauffeur-driven Mercedes pull into the car park. Out stepped an immaculately dressed man with his nose in the air. Adira clocked the private registration plate ‘DEM 5Y’. Sir Reginald Demsy strolled with an arrogant air of confidence into the building and Adira knew immediately he was going to be the worst kind of client.
The meeting was a farce. Reading between the lines, Reginald, as she was permitted to call him, had committed the classic, cardinal sin of cheating on his long-suffering wife with his much younger secretary. His opening line of ‘my wife doesn’t understand me’ nearly made Adira laugh out loud, as did the admittance of attending a ‘business trip’ to the Seychelles with Chardonnay, who was there to take notes.I bet that’s not all she was taking, Adira thought tartly, whilst keeping a straight face. A part of Adira wanted to let this man get screwed for every penny he was worth. It was times such as these that she questioned the morality of her career. Should she be helping people like Sir Reginald? Was it ethical?
Her mood didn’t lift throughout the day. Constant telephone calls, countless emails to wade through and more of Richard’s snide comments only added to that sinking feeling. Reaching for her mobile, Adira noticed a message from her gran. Opening it up she saw a photograph of a camper van. Frowning, she squinted to read the writing underneath:
For sale £25,000 – Sheila is in great shape. Renovated in 2014, this Aussie import is in excellent condition and boasts a solid underbody that has been undersealed.
The 2ltr twin-carb engine has done approx 9,000 miles and runs like a dream. Such a good-looking bus, but also fully kitted out for camping holidays, of which we have enjoyed trips to Devon, Wales and Derbyshire. 240v hook-up, Propex heating, inflatable drive-away awning/tent, gas fridge and cooker. A recently fitted new clutch.
Adira smiled, remembering the conversation from the weekend about her gypsy caravan. Typical gran. Edie had been searching for a way to make her happy again.
She stared at the camper van. Sheila did indeed look in good shape, with her pale blue and white shiny body. How cute, a VW Classic camper van. At £25,000, she wasn’t going cheap, but didn’t these VW camper vans hold their value? It certainly seemed that way, and she’d still have a substantial amount of savings left.
A growing sensation rose up in Adira, a heady mixture of excitement, anticipation and curiosity. Should she? It would only be for a year, she told herself, that gap year she’d never actually taken. Didn’t she deserve it?
Adira licked her lips and read through the description again. She quite fancied travelling about in a sweet camper van called Sheila. She glanced round the office: there was Richard schmoozing some client on the phone, the rest of the staff had their faces glued to screens, tapping away on keyboards. She looked again at Sheila, calling to join her in the great outdoors. The impulse was too much. A force inside shot through her and she suddenly stood up.
‘I’ve an announcement to make,’ she blurted out almost hysterically.
