Gloria turned back to the television, the softness gone. The rainy night with Kenneth dissolved beneath the ache in her bones and the humiliation of being managed. She gripped the arm of the chair and waited forCountdownto begin.
She wasn’t living the old age they’d once imagined for themselves. There was no dignity in it. No comfort. Just pain, dependence, and the slow humiliation of becoming a burden.
She hated every second of it.
Chapter four
"Right, I'm off. Catch you all tomorrow." Matty rolled into the shop at the end of her shift, still adjusting her rucksack straps.
"Oh, Matty…can you do me a favour?" her manager, Lawrence, asked, as he looked up from behind the counter.
"Depends. I'm due at my other job later."
He smiled overtop the cake fridge. "It won't take long. Just drop these off for me at Hunter-Cline."
Matty slouched, fingers already working at her laces. "We do deliveries now?"
"Only since they offered a big tip to whoever brings it." Lawrence gave her a wink.
She glanced at the box, then the receipt.
One flat white. Chicken salad sandwich. One blueberry muffin.
"Fine." She sighed, pulled a chair free and sat down to finish removing her skates. Slipping on her comfy Vans, she picked up the bag.
Lawrence was already circling the counter to hold the door open. "Cheers, Matty. I know it's a pain. And no, we won't make a habit of it, but they're a good customer."
"I know," she muttered. They weren't just good. They were one of Compton's best, regularly ordering for last-minute meetings and events, not to mention they employed a shit-tonne of staff who all popped in for coffee and lunch.
“And there’s a tip, remember,” he called after her.
She grinned. It was on her way anyway, the big office block being just round the corner. Quick drop, leave it with reception, and she'd be done.
She arrived within minutes.
"I've got a delivery for…" She checked the receipt. "Sloan Slater?"
"Alright," grunted the security guard without looking up.
Matty set the bag on the counter and waited.
"Anything else?"
"My tip?"
"You'll have to deliver it yourself for that." Chuckling as he gave her a once-over, clearly deciding she didn't look like a threat. With a slight shrug, he said, "Fourth floor. Corner office."
Matty blew out her cheeks. "Can I leave my bag and skates here?" Nodding, he jerked his chin at the corner. She grabbed her bag and dropped it and the skates where he’d indicated and headed for the lifts.
As she stepped out onto the fourth floor, Matty belatedly realised she probably should've askedwhichcorner office. But as she turned right and looked down the corridor, it became obvious. Only one office was lit. Only one looked occupied.
Blinds were drawn across the glass walls, but warm light escaped around the edges.
She knocked lightly and waited.
"Come."
The word landed sharply—not loud, not aggressive, just precise. It struck a nerve—a good one. Maybe it was the tone…or the word itself...
