Buy Me Sir(77)
“Mr Henley would like to increase your hours. You’ll be taking his dog out on a Sunday morning before seven. You should be done by nine.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “Sunday morning?”
She nods. “He advised he may be in, or he may not be, but not to let that deter you. Of course, we prefer discreet, always,” she waffles on and on as I struggle to form words.
Finally, she stops. Waits for a response.
“But I, um… Sunday?”
She groans. “Yes, Miss Martin. Sunday. Every Sunday, seven a.m. at the latest.”
I can’t even begin to hide the horror. “But I can’t! I really can’t… not on a Sunday…”
Her eyes turn cold in a heartbeat. “What do you mean you can’t? We don’t do can’t, Melissa, not where Mr Henley is concerned.”
“But Joe…” I bleat. “My brother… he needs me… I said at interview…”
“Your responsibilities wouldn’t be a problem. That’s what you said at interview.”
And she’s right, I did.
“I really can’t,” I tell her, even though it pains. “There’s no way I can do a Sunday, really there isn’t. I’d love to, really I would, but I can’t…”
She raises a hand. “You want me to tell that to Mr Henley, do you? That you just can’t?”
My mind spins.
He wants a cleaner on Sunday morning because…
“I can’t,” I repeat. “I’m really sorry, Janet, but I can’t.”
The stand-off takes forever. My fingers fidget under the desk, contemplating the inevitable, contemplating having to walk away from this. But I can’t do that either.
I really can’t.
“This is worth losing your position over, is it?” she snaps. “Plenty of our staff would love to work in Mr Henley’s house. It’s a privilege.”
“I’m lucky,” I say. “I know it, but I just can’t.”
It doesn’t matter how many times I say it, her eyes are still piercing. Still angry.
I lay it on the line, because I can’t see any other option. “I’ll resign,” I say. “I’m sorry to let you down.”
Her mouth opens. “Resign?”
I nod. “Please send my apologies to Mr Henley.”
There’s a tickle of relief under the disappointment once the words are out there. Maybe I’ll never have to tell him, maybe he’ll never know who I really am.
It’s clutching at straws, but straws feel pretty good under the circumstances.
“Shall I leave my uniform?” I ask, ready to pull the cap from my head. It would be more than a tickle of relief to ditch this crappy outfit.
Now it’s Janet struggling for words. “Let’s not be hasty,” she says, and then she tuts at me like I’m a naughty child. “I’m disappointed, Melissa, but under the circumstances maybe someone else can take the Sunday shift.”
My heart pounds as she picks up her telephone extension. “I need Miss Webber down here, quickly please.”
I wait in silence.
Janet does too.
When Sonnie enters the room she looks just as worried as I was. She takes a seat at my side nervously, clearly trying to work out what the hell she’s done wrong.
“An opportunity has come up,” Janet tells her. “We need you to clean Mr Henley’s house on a Sunday morning. You’ll be taking his dog out in particular. You’re available, yes?”
Sonnie looks as horrified as I did. “But isn’t that Lissa’s job?”
I hope my eyes tell her how sorry I am. I know she has little kids at home. I know she didn’t mention it at interview.
“Miss Martin is unavailable,” Janet says, and I feel like an asshole. “Please don’t tell me you are too.”
I’m waiting for it, the stream of excuses as Sonnie tries to get out of it, but she doesn’t. Although she looks stressed as hell she plasters a bright smile on her face.
“I’ll do it,” she says. “Hell, I’m always up for a promotion.”
“Then it’s done,” Janet tells us. “I’ll find a stand in for your duties this week, Miss Webber. You’ll be shadowing Miss Martin in preparation for the weekend.”
I smile.
Sonnie smiles.
Janet smiles too.
I’m a long way away from her office by the time I breathe easily again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Melissa
“Whoa,” Sonnie says. “This is some pad.”
I swell with pride as I lead the way to Mr Henley’s front door. Stupid, I know.
I hand her a piece of paper with the alarm code written down. “The keypad is under the stairs, you have to be quick.”