‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Cryssie said forlornly. ‘Just tired…’
‘Tell me about it.’ The assistant paused. ‘I’m really sorry about just now—but there wasn’t anything I could do. I’d have loved to keep a doll back for you, because I know how many times you’ve been in asking for one. Look, do leave your address and phone number with us.’
‘All right,’ Cryssie replied, and gave the girl her details. ‘Not your fault. I just hope that man’s little darlings are made to appreciate their good luck.’
‘He hasn’t got any little darlings…he’s not married.’ The assistant lowered her voice. ‘Didn’t you realise who that was?’
Cryssie shrugged. ‘No…should I?’
‘Oh, I thought everyone knew him…That was Jeremy—or Jed—Hunter. The boss of this place,’ she emphasised, as if announcing royalty.
Cryssie knew that Latimer’s was owned by the Hunter family, but wasn’t acquainted with any of them, or with what they looked like. She certainly hadn’t ever seen him before. If she had, she would have remembered!
‘Up until a year or so ago we never saw him,’ the girl went on, ‘but he seems to have taken over from his parents—who are getting on, obviously.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘Some of the staff are a bit afraid of him—he can be stroppy if things don’t go right. Not that I’m afraid,’ she added defensively. ‘I mean, he’s always courteous…but rather demanding, with a bit of a short fuse at times. Still, I suppose anyone that drop-dead gorgeous and rich can afford to be moody when he feels like it.’
‘I suppose so,’ Cryssie agreed dismissively, not particularly wanting to join in a chorus of admiration for this Mr Jed Hunter—not the way she was feeling at the moment! But he certainly seemed to be the man who had everything…including the one and only thing she—or Milo—wanted. And there was no way they’d be getting it now. The eleventh hour had come and gone.
‘Anyway, I’ve got your name and details,’ the assistant said. ‘And as soon as we get more stock I’ll contact you.’
‘Oh, fine,’ Cryssie said dully, beginning to wish that the Runaway Rascals had never been thought of! ‘Anyway, if he hasn’t got any children, what did he want them for?’ she blurted out, picking up the football boots.
‘Couldn’t tell you,’ the assistant said, turning to go back to her counter. She hesitated. ‘Do you have other children to buy for as well?’
‘No—and I don’t have any of my own,’ Cryssie replied. ‘We’re just the three of us…my sister and her little boy—my nephew, Milo—and me. But I’m the one who has to do all the chasing about, I’m afraid.’ Cryssie’s shoulders drooped for a second. ‘My sister isn’t…well,’ she added quietly, wondering why she was bothering to air her problems in public.
‘Oh, dear…and does she—can she—work?’ the woman asked gently.
‘Occasionally—on a part-time basis,’ Cryssie replied. ‘She trained as a beauty consultant.’
‘Oh…that’s nice…’ The assistant glanced at Cryssie curiously—and Cryssie knew instinctively what she was thinking! Why doesn’t your sister give you a makeover? Because Cryssie’s small-framed, insignificant appearance was not the sort to turn heads. Polly was the beauty of the family, with her willowy figure, rich auburn hair and large grey eyes.
‘And do you work full time?’ the assistant enquired, obviously glad of a few moments’ opportunity to chat.
‘Yes—I’m employed at Hydebound. Been there three years now.’
‘Oh, I know them,’ the woman said at once. ‘I was given one of their fantastic handbags for my birthday. Beautifully made, isn’t it, all their stuff? A bit expensive, but well worth the cost!’
Cryssie smiled, genuinely pleased to hear that. ‘Of course we’re only a very small, independent firm,’ she said. ‘Not like this place!’
She waited her turn to purchase the football boots and the ball, and started making for the stairs when the delicious smell of coffee drifted out from the nearby restaurant area. She hesitated, realising that she hadn’t eaten a thing since her cheese sandwich at lunchtime. No one at work had even had time to make a cup of tea that day. She glanced at her watch, her sudden desire for a long, hot injection of caffeine becoming irresistible. Anyway, perhaps if she sat there for a while most of the home-going traffic would have subsided.