FRY

Chapter Four

The sky is black with smoke. Bits of obliterated caravan float gracefully in the wind, spreading the fire to neighbouring trees and bushes.

“Keep back,” Deacon warns, moving nonetheless closer to the blaze.

“Deacon!” I call after him, my eyes stinging from the fumes.

Two men stand on the sidelines, showering the flames with what looks like a garden hose. They might as well be sprinkling confetti for all the good it’s doing.

“Is anybody hurt?” Deacon calls out to them.

“We don’t know!” the older man yells back.

“There’s a young woman staying here and nobody’s seen her since the fire started.” He looks back towards the coast road. “Where’s the bloody fire brigade?”

Then his eyes fall on Alicia and he heaves a huge sigh of relief.

“Thank god! She’s here, Dan! She’s safe!”

Deacon looks uncertainly at Alicia.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” I hiss. “She lives here.”

“Lived here,” he corrects me, quick to recover his composure. “Look at that inferno! This place has had it.”

Kate slips her arm around Alicia, who is staring, mesmerised by the flames.

“You OK?”

Alicia doesn’t reply.

“She’s probably in shock,” Deacon whispers. “Take her back to the house – get her a cup of tea or something.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Aren’t you coming?”

“No, I think I’ll stay until the fire brigade gets here.”

“OK. Don’t be a hero.” I give him a wink, but deep down, I wish he would just come back to the house.

Back at the Beach House, I watch as Rhett and Kate fuss over Alicia, but I can’t participate. Something is bothering me. I just can’t put my finger on it.

We are all still up when Deacon returns a little later.

“Is it as bad as we thought?”

He nods. “There’s not much left of the caravans, but they’ve managed to prevent it from spreading any further.”

He looks across the table at Alicia. “You’ll have to stay here tonight.”

Alicia has gone all shy again. She looks down at her hands. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense, you’ve seen the place – we’ve got plenty of room. Now, do you need to call anyone?”

She shakes her head.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

She lets out a big yawn and covers her mouth and I’m not sure, but I think I see her smile through her hand.

I am awoken by someone stomping about on my stomach. I push Fluffy off and sit up. In the cold light of day, my concerns about Alicia seem silly, laughable even. Obviously, what she did at the barbecue was some kind of stunt, a party trick. She’s just an ordinary girl. She can’t create fire out of nothing, no one can. The nearly getting run over, the fire at the caravan park – it must all just be some strange coincidence. After all, what reason would Alicia have for setting fire to the place where she’s staying? And how could she, when she was at the party all evening?

Downstairs, I find the answer phone blinking. I press play and smile to myself as Mum’s chirpy voice fills the room.

“Hello Izzy, are you there dear? Auntie Jean and I have booked ourselves on a fabulous Over 60’s break to Morocco! Isn’t that fun? It’s over the Christmas holidays. I do hope you don’t mind? Give me a ring, dear, and I’ll tell you all about it… “

Once I’m showered and dressed, I drive over to Rhett and Deacon’s to help with the post party clean-up, but to my delight, Rhett is putting the last of the dirty glasses into the dishwasher as I arrive. Deacon is still sweeping up in the garden, but I decide to leave him to it.

“Is Alicia up yet?” I ask Rhett. “I was hoping to have a word with her.”

“Why don’t you go and see?” he says, pouring some powder into the dishwasher. “She’s upstairs in the White Room.”

I head up the stairs to the first floor. The White Room is next to Rhett’s. The door swings open before I even knock. Alicia greets me as if she’s been expecting me. She is wearing the same gypsy skirt she had on yesterday plus a designer jumper of Rhett’s which shrank in the wash.

“Hi. Mind if I come in?”

“Course not.”

I plump myself down on the bed.

“This is a lovely room.”

“Yes, Deacon let me choose whichever one I wanted.”

She stands in front of the mirror, brushing her hair with a boar-bristle hairbrush. She doesn’t realise it, but the brush belongs to Rhett and Deacon’s mother, and this is the room she stays in when she comes to visit. The décor is floral and feminine, the walls papered in a delicate print that matches the thick quilted bedspread and pillows. There’s even a matching en suite.

“It sucks about the caravan park,” I say. “It was really lucky no one was hurt.”

“I know,” she agrees. “Really lucky. Now, do you think I should wear my hair up or down?”

“Down.”

“It’s just that it gets so big and frizzy if I leave it down.”

“Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I say, coming to stand next to her in front of the mirror.

“Yeah?”

“How did you get Deacon’s barbecue to light?”

She stops mid brush stroke.

“What do you mean? I lit it with a match. You were there. You saw me.”

“Yes, I was there,” I say hesitantly. “But I saw you digging up flints.”

She laughs. “I found a box of matches down there. How do you think I did it, silly?”

I look at her uncertainly, but she looks me right in the eye and her face shows no signs of insincerity. Could it be that I was mistaken?

Alicia sets the brush down on the table.

“That’s better,” she says, with a satisfied smile.

I follow her back down to the kitchen, where Kate is setting the table.

“Do you like pancakes?” Rhett asks Alicia

“Who doesn’t?” Alicia smiles broadly.

What happened to all her shyness? It seems to have vanished again. As has her wildness. Her hair looks smooth and styled today, not like a bedraggled orphan at all.

“I’ll have some too, if you’re making them,” I invite myself. Rhett makes the best pancakes of anyone I know.

“Here, see if you can open this,” Kate says, handing me a bottle of syrup. “It feels like the lid’s been welded on.”

There is a definite colour in her cheeks this morning, I notice and a certain bounce in her step that I haven’t seen in ages. She has even ironed her shirt and put on some perfume, which is all very good, but at the same time a bit odd. I could have put last night’s miraculous recovery down to alcohol, but she certainly isn’t drunk now. It’s almost as if Alicia has wiped all memory of Julio from her mind. I wonder what on earth she said to her?

I turn my attention to the bottle of syrup I’m supposed to be opening, clench it tight and yank as hard as I can, my face screwed up in concentration. Deacon strides in from the garden, and leans against the counter, watching my attempts with an amused look on his face.

“Here, give me that!”

He wrenches it from my grasp and twists off the lid as if it were no harder than opening a bottle of ketchup.

“I loosened it for you!” I say in my defence.

Deacon just laughs.

Rhett serves the pancakes and we all sit around the table, talking about the fire. It appears to have been a fierce one. Left a big, depressing cloud over the whole of Queensbeach. I doubt much of the caravan park survived.

Nonetheless, Alicia wants to know if any of her stuff survived, so we walk down there after breakfast to have a look. It’s not good news. Not even the outer fence has been left intact. The place looks like a meteorite has hit it. It has literally been flattened – and blackened. Not a single, frazzled piece of grass remains, just the burned-out shells of the caravans and a whole lot of mess and mud.

“Hey, that’s the owner,” Deacon whispers to me, as a plump, balding man approaches. I recognise him as one of the men who were trying to put the fire out the night before.

“Looks bad, doesn’t it?” he says, looking around at the charred remains.

“It happened so quickly,” Deacon says. “There was really nothing you could do.”

“No, I suppose not. Shame the fire brigade didn’t get here quicker, but not their fault. Apparently, there was a bloody great van blocking the road.”

“Do you know what caused the fire?” I chip in.

He shakes his head. “No, the police are investigating.”

“They’re not ruling out arson then?” I ask, with one eye on Alicia, who has gone to examine the place where her caravan used to be. I can’t help it; I have to know.

“It seems unlikely. We’ve never had any of that kind of trouble round here before.”

“It is a pretty quiet neighbourhood,” Deacon agrees. “I hope you’ll be covered by the insurance?”

“Should be, although you know what insurance companies are like. It’ll be like pulling teeth.” He looks guiltily in Alicia’s direction. “We won’t be covered for anything that was in the vans, I’m afraid. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone living in them. We’d been renovating.”

“So how come Alicia was staying here?” I ask curiously,

“I felt sorry for her,” he says. “I found her sleeping rough on the beach, poor lass. I told her she could stay in one of my vans if she didn’t mind the mess. I even gave her some of my daughter’s old clothes. Of course they’ll all have gone up in smoke now.”

“Well, that settles it then,” Deacon says, as we walk back over to the others. “Alicia will have to stay with us for the meanwhile. She clearly has nowhere else to go,”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I mean, you barely know the girl.”

He pats me on the shoulder. “She’s your friend, isn’t she? That’s all I need to know.”

“Well,” I say faintly, “that’s very… kind of you.”

I bite my lip, wondering if I should tell him about my misgivings about Alicia. But what if I’m wrong? I wouldn’t want her to end up homeless because of me, nor do I want to invite her to live with me. In fact, I’m more reluctant now than ever.

I owe her, I remind myself.

She still hasn’t said a word to anyone about me nearly running her over. I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of it if Deacon got wind.

“Hey, Isabel – what are you doing this afternoon?” Kate calls out.

“I don’t know. I was thinking of going to the gym.”

“I ought to go too – get my money’s worth,” she pulls a face, “but I really can’t be arsed.”

“It is rather pricey,” I agree, “but luckily for me my free trial has been extended for another six months. Can you believe it? The manager called to tell me last week.”

Kate’s eyes bulge. “You’re kidding! The first chunk came out of my bank account last month. No one offered me an extension. How did you get so lucky?”

“I’ve no idea!”

It’s kind of strange, now that I think about it. Why am I getting a special deal, while Kate has to pay? After all, we joined at the same time.

“Anyway, I was going to suggest we take Alicia shopping this afternoon,” she continues. “She’s going to need some new clothes. I’m sure we can have a whip round to pay for it.”

“Sounds good,” I smile. After all, it can’t hurt to get to know her a little better. Perhaps a shopping trip is just what we need to defuse some of the mystery.

Kate is right. Our friends and neighbours are very generous. Everyone wants to help out when they hear about the fire.

“I’d come with you,” says Rhett, handing me a tenner for Alicia’s clothing fund. “But I’m working this afternoon and it’s double bubble. Let me know if you see any nice winter coats though.”

“Like you need another coat!” I laugh. Rhett has the best wardrobe of anyone I know.

So it’s just the three of us who hit the shops that afternoon. It feels a little weird bringing a stranger along on a shopping trip, but Alicia fits in well – singing along to all the cheesy songs we listen to on the way and laughing in all the right places when Kate and I joke around. And although this shopping trip was supposed to be for Alicia, Kate and I stack up at least as many bags as she does. I even manage to persuade Kate to try on a couple of dresses. She doesn’t buy any of them, but even trying them on is progress for someone who lives in jeans and combats.

We are on our way out of H&M when something catches her eye.

“How on earth did I miss those amazing jeans?” she exclaims, pointing to a pair of Levi’s covered in rips and holes. I groan at her lack of taste, but she is totally oblivious as she pulls them off the rack and rushes towards the changing room. By this point even I’ve had enough shopping for one day. So, spotting some soft, comfy chairs, I sink down and ease the shoes off my aching feet. Alicia doesn’t join me. Instead, she gazes in fascination at a pair of mannequins that have been stripped of their clothes and are looking rather sheepish in the corner. She reaches out and strokes their silky blonde hair, and as she does, a certain gleam comes into her eye. I recognise that look, I realise with a jolt. It’s the same one she had last night, when the caravan park was on fire.

I look at the mannequins again, and the strangest thought wafts through my mind. I picture their hard, plastic bodies melting into the fire. The mannequins look back at me with passive, unblinking eyes, but they no longer look embarrassed. Now they are afraid.

“I need something to drink,” I announce abruptly, and whisk Alicia out of the shop. I take out my mobile and call Kate, telling her to meet us at the juice bar across the street. The heat of the mall is obviously getting to me.

We all sing along with the radio again on the way back to Queensbeach. The music is soothing, and helps me forget all about my stupid mannequin madness.

After I drop Kate and Alicia off, I curl up with Fluffy in front of the TV and order a takeaway from the pizza place in town. I’ve heard they have a hot new delivery man, so I go into the bathroom and touch up my make-up – you know, just in case. There is a knock at the door just as I come out.

“Wow, that was quick!”

I pull back the latch, but it isn’t the delivery man who stands impatiently on the doorstep, a roguish grin on his face.

“Julio!”

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He taps his foot with mock impatience.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. “How come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”

“I don’t know. I just thought it would be better this way.”

I usher him into the house and thrust a warm cup of tea into his hands. We’ve barely spoken since he walked out on Kate, but I can’t deny I’ve missed him.

He is my brother, after all.

“So what have you been up to?” I ask. “Tell me all your news.”

“Well, did you get your ‘save the date’ card?” he asks, his face taking on the puppy dog expression that drives the women crazy.

“Yes.”

The card came this morning. I can’t believe they’ve already sent them out.

“You seem to be in a bit of a hurry to get married. Is there anything I should know?”

“If you’re asking if Holly is pregnant, then no. We just can’t wait to get married. I just hope we get all the paperwork through in time – you know, for the divorce.”

“Yeah, Kate told me.”

“Is she OK?”

“Better than I would have expected.”

“That’s good.”

“So what’s she like, this Holly? Are you really sure you want to get married again so soon?”

“Absolutely, totally one hundred percent.”

“Wow, you’re really hooked, aren’t you?”

“It’s different with Holly,” he says, setting his cup down on the table. “It just feels so right.” A stupid smile flits across his face and I can see that he’s smitten.

“Well, then I look forward to meeting her.”

Julio beams. “Why don’t you come for Christmas?”

“Christmas?”

“It was Holly’s idea, actually. She really wants to meet you.”

“That’s really sweet of her,” I say, stalling. It’s not like I have any other plans for Christmas. Mum’s going to be in Morocco, after all, but I’m not quite sure if I’d feel comfortable spending it with Julio and his new fiancée.

There’s a reason why I’m a bit reluctant to meet Holly, and it’s not purely out of loyalty to Kate, although that is a factor. The reason is this: I’m afraid that I’ll like her. I know that sounds strange, but I can’t help it. I find myself wondering if this love can really last, or if Holly will become another one of Julio’s statistics. Because no matter how much in love with her he says he is now, there is no knowing how he will feel in six month’s time. That’s just the way he is.

Growing up, my brother always had a reputation as a heartbreaker. He’s been like that since the age of twelve. Even then, he seemed to have a different girlfriend every week, and it was always me who ended up dealing with the hysterical women he left in his wake. But I never thought my best friend would be one of them. I don’t know why I was so naive, but I just thought she was different to all his other women – stronger, more independent. I thought Julio had met his match with Kate. Turns out, I was wrong.

Ding-Dong!

“You expecting someone?”

“Yeah, that’ll be my pizza.”

“You ordered pizza?” he says, rubbing his hands with glee. “Fantastic! I could eat a horse!”

I pay for the pizza, and just for the record, the delivery man is definitely good-looking, though the goatee is a deal breaker.

I open the box of pizza and we dig in. With other men, I pretend to eat more daintily, but with Julio, I pig out. It’s amazing how we can pick up just where we left off, even though we haven’t spoken in months. It’s always been like that between the two of us. He’s so much a part of me that I can’t just shut him out, no matter how hard I try.

“I’m really glad you came,” I tell him, once all the pizza’s been eaten and neither of us can manage another cup of tea.

He smiles his devilish grin. “Me too.”

We both rise to our feet. I tower over him, even without shoes. He may have inherited his mother’s Mediterranean good looks, but I got every inch of Dad’s height.

My teeth chatter as I walk him out to his car. The warm weather has completely evaporated. We’ve gone from autumn to summer to winter in the space of a few days. The leaves are now crisp with frost and many of the birds have retreated back to their hideouts.

“So you’ll let me know about Christmas?”

“OK.”

“Oh, and one more thing, Izzy.” He produces a brown cardboard box from the boot. “Can you give this to Kate? It’s just some of her old stuff from the attic. I picked it up by mistake when I moved out. She’ll probably want it back.”

I nod, despite the knowledge that in order to give the box to Kate, I’ll have to admit to her that I’ve seen him.

Well, there’s no rush.

I’ll wait till she’s got over the shock of Julio asking for a divorce.

My shoulders feel a little tense as I walk through the door of Mustafa’s. My friends are already there, and as always these days, the group includes Alicia.

“Isabel, we were beginning to wonder where you’d got to,” Deacon says and he pulls up a chair for me. Alicia is sitting in my usual seat. I glance at her nervously. I’m still no closer to knowing what to make of her. At work she has already ingratiated herself with Sonya and she’s even flirted with Stu, though I’m sure she wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole. Everyone seems to like her, and yet there is something about her, something inexplicable that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end. I reach for the glass of wine Rhett’s just poured me and take a large swig.

“Uh oh, what’s going on?” Kate asks, watching the people at the next table being pulled from the comfort of their chairs. Tonight’s entertainers, a ‘traditional’ Greek dance troupe from Portsmouth, are hauling everybody to their feet. They make us link hands, so that they can lead us in snake like formation around the chairs and tables. The dance gets faster and faster, and the heady speed is a little sickening, especially as I’ve just drunk half my wine.

Flushed and out of breath, we return to our table, where we replenish ourselves with more wine. I look on as the dance troupe smashes plates on the floor and dances around in the resulting shards. I really hope these are props, as the whole thing looks rather dangerous.

“Oh, I got everyone key rings,” I remember, pulling them from my bag and setting them down in the centre of the table.

“What are these?” Rhett asks, picking one up to examine it. “They’re kind of… ugly.”

“They’re smoke detectors,” I say, careful to avoid Alicia’s eye. “I just thought, after the fire at the caravan park we should all be a bit more safety-conscious. It can’t hurt, can it?”

My friends exchange bemused looks, much like the time Kate got us all suntan lotion for Christmas.

“That’s really thoughtful of you,” Alicia says sweetly. “I’ll keep mine in my handbag at all times.”

I am almost grateful to her as the others murmur in agreement, even though she is the reason I bought them in the first place.

“You know, I heard a rumour that they’re reopening Millennium,” Rhett says, sipping his Turkish coffee.

“Really?” Deacon looks at me in delight. “Maybe we can recreate our first meeting?”

“I don’t think so!” I glare back.

“Why, what happened?” Alicia wants to know.

“Can you believe he threw me out of a nightclub?” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.

“I didn’t throw you,” Deacon objects. “I was very gentle.”

It was ten years ago and Kate and I were queuing to get into Millennium, the most popular – in fact, the only – nightclub in Queensbeach at the time. Kate had just turned eighteen, and although I was a few months younger, I rarely had a problem getting in as I was tall and sophisticated for my age, or so I liked to think. That night, however, there was a problem.

“You can go in,” the bouncer told Kate. He was big and broad, with longish black hair and penetrating eyes. I made to follow her, when he put out his hand to stop me.

“Can I see some I.D, please?”

“What?” I was so taken aback by the question that I didn’t even have the forethought to come up with a good story.

“But I’ll be eighteen in a couple of months,” I wailed, watching a group of my friends go inside.

“Come back then, and I’ll let you in,” he said firmly.

I was fuming, but there was nothing I could do. Angrily, I dragged Kate across the road to the Horse and Hare, which was much less fussy about its entrance policy. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as Millennium though.

When we left a couple of hours later, I noticed that there was a different bouncer on the door at the club. Emboldened by the three or four WKD Blues I’d just downed, I decided to try again. This time, it was easy. The bouncer smiled at us, and with a polite “Evening ladies,” we strode triumphantly inside.

For a while, I had a great time. We headed straight for the dance floor, where we swayed in time to Avril Lavigne or Pink or whoever it was that we were into then. But then I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. Startled, I turned round and found myself looking up at that bloody annoying bouncer.

“I thought I told you you weren’t coming in?” he said grimly.

“Well, I seem to have found my way in anyway,” I replied boldly.

“You have until the count of ten to leave the premises.”

But I had a stubborn streak. I folded my arms. “You can’t make me.”

That was probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever said. In one fluid motion, he swooped down and lifted me up over his shoulder. He carried me like that, fireman-style out of the club, with me banging my fists and kicking furiously as all my friends looked on and laughed. Once outside, he set me gently on my feet.

“Did you have a coat?” he asked. “Give me the cloakroom ticket, and I’ll go and fetch it for you.”

But I wouldn’t be placated. “Don’t bother,” I said. “I’ll fetch it myself in the morning.”

“You were so angry with me!” Deacon laughs now, taking a contented sip of his wine.

“Can you blame me?” I demand. “You embarrassed me in front of all my friends!”

“Well, you never did learn to do what you’re told, did you?” he teases.

“Shh!” Kate hushes us. “They’re still doing their performance.”

The Greek dancers have moved all the tables away from the centre of the room. A hush falls over the audience as some kind of fluid is poured in a big circle in the middle. A match is lit, and people gasp as a perfect ring of fire forms. Then the dancers begin clapping and singing, leaping in and out of the flames as if they were made of water.

A sudden cacophony of shrill, discordant bleeps pierces the night.

We all jump violently and it takes us a moment to realise where it’s coming from.

“It’s the key rings!” Deacon yells above the noise. “Quick, switch them off!”

We dive frantically into our bags and pockets, cheeks burning as our desperate fingers struggle to silence them. I feel the glares of the people around us, but the dancers continue with their performance as if nothing has happened.

The audience takes up their tune, clapping and whistling along, as the dancers whirl and twist inside the spectacular circle of fire. I feel Alicia’s presence next to me as we both gaze intently into the flames. I sense that we are mirror images – her delight is my horror, my anxiety, her pleasure.

“Please,” I whisper to her, but I’m not quite sure what I’m asking or if she even hears me. She doesn’t reply, but then, as quickly as they were ignited, the flames are quenched, and the dancers step safely out of the circle to take their bow. The spell broken, I rush outside for some fresh air.

Kate follows me.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

“Yes, fine,” I feel around in my pocket for my lighter. God knows what I’ve done with it. I borrow Kate’s.

“Don’t feel bad about the alarms going off,” she says, as I light my cigarette. “I thought it was funny.”

“Thanks.”

“You sure you’re OK?” she says, looking at me more closely. “You look tense.”

“Just had a long day,” I say, sinking down onto the window ledge.

How can I possibly explain to her about my concerns about Alicia? It all sounds so irrational.

“Look, I wanted to have a word with you anyway,” she says, sitting down beside me.

“Sounds ominous.”

“It’s about Julio.”

“Oh?”

“Alicia saw you with him, Isabel. Why didn’t you tell me you were back in touch?”

I suck in my breath. “How would Alicia know? She’s never even met Julio!”

“She happened to see you outside your house on Sunday night, talking to a guy in an orange Alfa Romeo. Who else would it be?”

“What was she doing there? Is she spying on me?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Isabel! She went round to see you, but when she saw that you had company, she didn’t want to interrupt. She thought Julio was some guy you were seeing.”

“Hmm…” I bite my lip. Kate’s explanation sounds plausible, but still, I don’t like the idea of Alicia hanging around outside my house, watching me. I find it disconcerting.

“So it was Julio?” she prompts me.

“Yes, it was. Look, Kate it wasn’t planned or anything, he just dropped in on me.”

She takes my arm. “It’s OK, Isabel. He’s your brother. You have a right to see him, just don’t keep things from me, OK? That’s not the kind of friendship we have.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“So no more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

I have the dream again that night. The one where I nearly run Alicia over. I’ve had it several times since it happened. I play it over and over in my mind, just can’t seem to get it out of my head. In this dream, it happens just as I remember, except for one thing – the expression on Alicia’s face. It isn’t fear that she looks at me with, as she slides to the ground.

It’s pleasure.

I sit up, fully awake now. Was it just a dream, or is that how it really happened? What if the accident wasn’t an accident at all? What if Alicia was hiding in the bushes, waiting to jump out?

What if she was crouched down in the darkness, waiting for me? She would have had to hide somewhere – behind the dustbins, maybe or else the iridescent glow of my headlights would surely have caught her? Was she down there, waiting until the very last moment to leap out, knowing that that I wouldn’t be able to stop? Knowing that she would scare the living daylights out of me?

It was a very dangerous game if she was.

“Morning,” says Jon, the security man, as he holds open the door for me. The doors are supposed to open automatically, but they’ve been malfunctioning a bit recently.

“Morning. Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Not bad. Took the kids to Chessington.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Jon shrugs. “The little one chucked up in the minivan.”

“Staff meeting in ten minutes,” Sonya says, as I walk into the office. “Can you help me set up the projector?”

“No problem.”

I pull it out of the desk drawer and follow her into the staff room, where we are greeted by rows of gooey glazed doughnuts.

My mouth waters. “Ooh, where did these come from?”

“Alicia brought them in. Apparently they were giving out free samples in the precinct. She persuaded the bloke to give her a dozen boxes.”

I bet she did.

Sonya reaches over and takes one. “Hmm, delicious. But I really must start my diet tomorrow.”

The staff reps surge in and devour the doughnuts like a plague of hungry locusts. The unexpected treat puts everyone in a good mood and we progress through the meeting with much less bickering than usual.

“Item 9,” Sonya reads out, “I need more volunteers to cover Tuesday’s night shift.”

This announcement is greeted with a wall of silence. You could hear a pin drop, the room goes so quiet.

“Well, if anyone is interested, please let me know after the meeting.”

The door creaks as Stu walks in.

He probably smelled the doughnuts.

“Anything you want to add, Stu?” Sonya asks politely.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.”

Sonya and I look at each other in surprise. Neither of us can remember the last time he actually contributed to a staff meeting. He comes to stand at the front.

“Great news!” he says with enthusiasm. “I’ve just been on the phone with head office and it looks like we will be replacing all our checkouts with self-service points. Isn’t that great, everyone? No more boring checkout duty!”

I groan inwardly. How could he make such an important announcement without even discussing it with Sonya and me first? I bet he hasn’t even spoken to any of the union reps. The usually quiet room erupts. Everyone starts speaking at once, all the checkout staff wanting to know what will happen to their jobs.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll work something out,” Stu says blithely. “There’s no need for anyone to worry.”

Sonya dismisses the group, with a promise to update everyone as soon as possible.

“Isn’t this great?” says Stu, as everyone files out of the room. I grip my hands tightly together. If I let them do what they wanted, they’d probably strangle him.

As a result of Stu’s thoughtless announcement, I spend much of the morning fielding questions from irate checkout staff who refuse to believe that I don’t know any more about the new tills than they do.

“There are going to be redundancies, aren’t there?” demands a nervous father of five.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” I try to reassure him. But I can’t help but wonder what other work we could possibly find for some of the zombies who sit at the checkouts all day. I mean, obviously we’ll need a few people to help the customers with the new self-service tills, but I doubt any of them will be up to that job. Their minds have become so automated, I really wonder if they are capable of being retrained.

“She must know something,” says a rough looking woman, pointing at me with her jagged fingernail. “Come on, girly, out with it. How many are of us are going to be out of a job?”

Before I can think of anything to say, Sonya’s voice fills the room:

“This is a colleague announcement. Can Isabel come to the Supervisor’s office? That’s Isabel to the Supervisor’s office.”

“Sorry,” I say apologetically. “I have to run. We’ll have to talk about this later.”

I walk thankfully through the store. Sonya is waiting for me outside the office.

“We have got to get these people some answers,” I tell her, “before we have a riot on our hands. Hey, what’s wrong?”

I had assumed that she called me away to get me out of an awkward situation, but her expression is grim.

“The police are here, Isabel. They want to speak to you about the fire at the caravan park. I think you might be a suspect…”