Katie Oliver - Love And Liability

“What do you mean?” Holly demanded, incensed.

“I mean, what do you know about living on the streets, eh? Your idea of a hardship is probably carrying last season’s bag.”

“That’s not true—”

“And there’s your posh accent, and your clothes.”

Holly stiffened. “What about my clothes?” She glanced down at her paisley-patterned, empire-waist dress.

“You look like you shop at Oxfam. All careless and artsy and ‘I-can-afford-Harvey-Nicks-but-I-buy-second-hand’.”

“Enjoy the coffee,” Holly said tightly, and got to her feet to leave. “And thanks so much for the fashion critique.”

“Don’t get mad,” Zoe said, and shrugged. “I like it, actually. It’s bohemian, mixed-up. Very Alexa Chung.”

“Thanks.” Only slightly mollified, Holly eyed the girl and added, “You seem to know a bit about fashion.”

Again, she shrugged. “I read the magazines sometimes,” she admitted grudgingly. “I study all the designers’ stuff. I know what I like and what I don’t. One day, I want to go to Central Saint Martins and get my degree.”

“Wow,” Holly said, impressed. “That’s quite a goal. Do you want to design clothes? Or do sketch art?”

“Design clothes,” she answered. She glanced down at the safety-pinned T-shirt under her worn leather jacket and back up at Holly, her expression defiant. “This is my homage to the Sex Pistols.”

Holly eyed it and nodded. “It’s good. It’d fetch fifty quid in a boutique. So, tell me, how’d you land here? Why are you sleeping on this bench?”

“Well, I checked, and wouldn’t you know it? Buckingham Palace was booked right up last night.”

Holly pressed her lips together. “There’s a night shelter right round the corner—”

“Yeah, and there’s a queue to get in, and then you risk having your stuff nicked while you sleep. No, thanks.”

“But it has to be better than sleeping here,” Holly persisted.

“Look, thanks for the coffee, okay? I’m fine. I can sleep anywhere.”

Holly set her cup down and reached into her handbag, searching until she unearthed her business card. “I work just there.” She nodded her head at the office tower across the street. “Here’s my card. I’d like to talk to you again. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Brill. We’ll have a chinwag and a shop at Harvey Nicks,” Zoe said, and smirked. But she took the card Holly held out to her and thrust it into her rucksack.

That was exactly the sort of smart-arse thing her sister Hannah would say. She turned to go.

Zoe lifted her coffee cup in farewell. “Ta.”

As Holly made her way across the street and back up the steps to her office building she couldn’t resist a glance back. Zoe — if that was her real name — had taken the muffin out, and, after looking furtively around, crammed it hurriedly in her mouth…

For all the world as if she was afraid Holly might come back and snatch it away again.

A stack of mail waited in the slot when Holly returned home that evening. She withdrew the envelopes and flicked through them with mounting dismay. British Gas. Student Loan Association. Car payment. Car insurance…

Which reminded her, the Skoda was acting wonky. Which meant it probably needed repairs, she reflected grimly, which meant spending more money she didn’t have.

It was sad, really — she used to look forward to getting the mail. The post was always full of pleasant surprises like magazines and free samples and college catalogues. Now, with her finances in a tailspin and her father refusing to bail her out, going through her correspondence was an ordeal.

All the Royal Mail brought her these days was bills.

Holly let herself into the flat and tossed the post down on the hall table. She needed a second job…and fast.

A noxious smell greeted her.

“I’m making us dinner, Hols,” Kate called out from the kitchen. “My tofu stir-fry and homemade tzatziki are coming right up.”

Holly winced. ‘Coming right up’ was apt, in more ways than one. The last time Kate made Tzatziki, it was a curdled mess. She had no illusions that tonight’s would be any better.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” Holly said. “I suppose I should stockpile the falafel, though — since I won’t be able to afford to eat soon, much less pay my share of the rent.”

“Why? What are you talking about?”

She popped a cucumber slice in her mouth. “I’ve got too little incoming, and too much outgoing.”

“What about your dad? He usually helps you out.”

“He told me in no uncertain terms that my free ride is over. I’ll have to get another job.”

Kate turned to stare at her. “Quit BritTEEN , you mean?”

“No, of course not. I mean, I’ll need a second job.”

“Sasha doesn’t allow moonlighting,” Kate reminded her. “If she finds out, she’ll sack you.”

“I know. And I can’t afford to lose my job.” She looked up with a frown. “You won’t tell her, will you?”

Kate turned back to her tzatziki. “Of course not,” she said cheerily. “We’re mates, after all, aren’t we?”

Chapter 10

Just before noon, Alex Barrington arrived at BritTEEN ’s reception desk.

“Hello,” he said to one of the three girls behind the counter. “I’m here to see Ms Holly James.”

Her eyes widened behind her glasses. “Yes, of c-course,” she stammered, and reached for the phone handset, knocking a pencil jar askew in the process. “I’ll c-call her n-now,” she mumbled, and blushed a virulent shade of red as she scrambled to gather up the pens and pencils rolling every which way.

“Thank you.”

Holly arrived in Reception a few minutes later. “Hello, Alex. Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Only two minutes,” Alex said, and eyed her above-the-knee skirt with obvious approval. “And well worth the wait, I might add. You look very fetching today, Ms James.”

“Only today?” she asked, and quirked her brow. “So I didn’t look fetching when I interviewed you?”

“I’m sorry, but you only looked moderately attractive that day.” He held out his arm to her. “Shall we go?”

Holly smiled and took his arm, charmed by his light-hearted mood. “Yes, let’s do.”

Alex glanced back at the reception desk as they left. “Thank you. Sorry about your pencils.”

“It’s okay. My f-fault. And you’re welcome,” she murmured, her eyes behind their glasses still riveted on Alex.

“Poor girl,” he murmured as he followed Holly into the lift. “She has a regrettable speech impediment.”

“Oh, Alex — Eleanor doesn’t have a speech impediment.” Holly glanced at him and smiled. “It’s you.”

He looked at her blankly. “Me?”

Holly jabbed at the ground-floor button. “You have a devastating effect on women. You render them speechless.”

“Is that so?” He considered this, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I don’t seem to have that effect on you.”

“No,” she said lightly. “You’ve no effect at all.”

He linked her arm through his. “I’ll have to work on that, then, won’t I?”

As the hostess led them to a table at the Brasserie Holly covertly studied Alex. His back was broad, and his shoulders nicely filled out the grey worsted suit he wore.

She had a sudden, wild desire to grab him by his brown grenadine tie, pull him towards her, and run her fingers through that dark, floppy hair of his—

“Follow me,” the hostess said, and handed them menus as they seated themselves. “A waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy your lunch.”

Alex studied Holly. “How’s your day going so far, Ms James?”

“Holly, please.” She opened her menu, still fuming over Zoe’s comment. “Actually, something happened yesterday…something that really cheesed me off.”