Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year. Bella Osborne

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СКАЧАТЬ typical. I might have guessed it’d be you.’ Daisy scowled at Max, who looked nonplussed and carried on giving the lady at the counter his order.

      Daisy flushed crimson. She was furious. Her interview was in less than thirty minutes. She didn’t have time to walk back and change and get back in time and if she did she was severely lacking in anything appropriate to wear. Most of her clothes were screwed up on her bedroom floor. She made a mental note to sort them out when she got in.

      ‘Would you like a cloth?’ asked the kindly woman behind the counter.

      ‘Yes, please. Thank you,’ said Daisy, leaning over and taking the cloth. She dabbed at her skirt but the strong dark liquid had already seeped into the soft material. She went to the ladies to see if she could improve things where she discovered it was actually possible to make things worse. She now had a very large wet patch in the middle of her skirt and the coffee stain was only slightly faded. She downed what was left of her espresso and headed out of the coffee shop.

      ‘Have a nice day,’ called out Max but she ignored him. The short stroll to the Stabb and Lakey offices had her sodden skirt sticking to her legs. As she approached she decided it may look better if she turned the skirt around. At least their first impression would be of someone smartly dressed, she may even be able to get away without them noticing.

      She gave her details to the current receptionist who seemed a little bored. Daisy took a seat in the waiting area and as she sat on the coffee side of her skirt she felt the now cold wet patch adhere to her thighs and start to seep through her pants. It was more than a little distracting but she wouldn’t be put off, she really wanted this job. It was about time she had a decent job; she’d been bouncing from one rubbish zero hours contract to the next and a proper role in a good small firm would be ideal. It would be good for her CV too, which would hopefully mean better jobs when she did move on.

      A tall, thin man meandered into the waiting room and appraised her. He proffered a hand. ‘Miss Wilkins?’

      ‘Wickens,’ corrected Daisy, standing up.

      ‘I’m Mr Lakey.’

      ‘How do you do, Mr Lakey?’ asked Daisy in her most professional receptionist voice.

      ‘Very well, er …’ His eyes had wandered to the front of her skirt and now hers did the same. The stain was on the back so what was he looking at? On the front of her skirt, which had once been the back, was a large patch of black fur making it look like she had some sort of pubic wig. Bloody Bug, she thought as she remembered sitting on the sofa in his favourite spot. She quickly twisted the skirt around her middle in an attempt to make the black hairy patch disappear but as soon as the wet patch came into sight she regretted it.

      ‘You see someone spilled some coffee just before I got here – not me I’m not clumsy or anything it was some idiot in the coffee shop. And the black hair is my aunt’s dog, he sits on the sofa and he sheds fur everywhere.’ Mr Lakey’s eyebrows were doing a tango as the two offending patches whizzed past numerous times whilst Daisy continued to twist the skirt around her waist. Daisy stopped the skirt at the halfway point so she now had the coffee stain to her left side and the black furry patch to her right. She looked up and smiled at Mr Lakey and eventually his eyes met hers. He blinked.

      ‘I like to make a good first impression,’ she quipped.

      ‘Shall … we continue?’ he asked with a definite hesitation.

      Daisy agreed and, gathering up what was left of her dignity, followed him into the office.

      A few hours later Daisy was sitting on the floor at Sea Mist Cottage feeling sorry for herself. Bug walked in and stopped abruptly at the sight of a forlorn-looking Daisy. They observed each other warily. Daisy decided she couldn’t be bothered to match wits with the dog today so she let him win the staring contest and he strutted off to make his spot on the sofa even more furry.

      The interview hadn’t started well and had gone downhill from there. It turned out they were looking for a career receptionist – someone who was going to stay and grow with the company. Something Daisy wasn’t prepared to commit to. She hadn’t known how much there was to being a receptionist; her experience extended to welcoming people and serving tea and coffee. She hadn’t expected to have to take all the phone calls, manage the diary and appointment system, type letters and look after the petty cash. And with each question it had become evident she wasn’t experienced enough, which was a depressing realisation. She had emphasised her ability to absorb things quickly and her willingness to learn, but after a string of temps Stabb and Lakey wanted someone who already knew what they were doing and that wasn’t Daisy.

      She had been to university – for a while, at least. Surely, she thought, two thirds of a degree across two subjects still counted for something? But she was starting to think this was an incorrect assumption. The lack of a finished degree along with her many short-lived roles only seemed to highlight her lack of dependability. It was a depressing truth that she had got to this point in her life with no credible career.

      Daisy tried to console herself with the memories she had of the places she had visited and all the people she had met, but it was difficult to recall them without feeling how transitory it had all been. Nobody had ever pleaded with her to stay like Jason and Tamsyn had. It affected her in a way she hadn’t expected; it had chipped away at her hardened heart.

      She dragged over the box of railway stuff. If she didn’t have a job she could at least sell some of the railway things. She rifled through for the photographs she’d missed when she’d found the box in the gloom of the old building. She pulled out the large envelope, which was a similar size and shape to the bottom of the box explaining how she had missed it the first time. She scattered the photographs onto the carpet in front of her and was drawn to one of the larger pictures. It was a great scene, with the railway building to the left of the picture and a large steam engine billowing out white vapour as a throng of people waved from the platform.

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