Heller's Girlfriend (5 page)

Someone had pawed over the rack
of bras in front of me, and they were no longer arranged by size or
colour. Tutting to myself, disliking the disorder, I began to
rearrange them, humming to myself.

“Excuse me please, dear.”

I spun around to find an elderly
lady looking up at me with a hopeful glance. I smiled kindly,
eyebrows raised.

“Thank goodness I spotted you.
It’s so hard to find someone around here to help. And I just have
one little question. I won’t take up much of your time, I
promise.”

“Oh, okay. Sure,” I said and
assumed my listening face. Surely I could answer one little
question, even if I didn’t know much about the store.

“Thank you, dear. I’d like to
buy some new underwear, but it has to be quality, mind you. None of
that cheap rubbish that falls apart after a few washes. Can you
recommend a brand for me?”

“I know just what you need,” I
smiled, pleased to be able to help. Heller’s personal stylist, Mei
Wong, had introduced me to a wonderful brand, locally made, that
lasted forever. “I wear them myself, you know. Very comfortable
and
sexy.” I blushed. “Oh, I guess you’re not much
interested in that.”

She laughed. “Not these days,
dear. Thirty years ago, I would have been. But comfortable suits me
fine.”

“Now, they’re not cheap,” I
warned, as I searched for that brand’s rack amongst all the
others.

“Nothing worth having ever is.”
She turned up her nose as we passed a rack of exclusive Jules Roux
Masquerade lingerie, stopping to check the price tag on a
particularly garish set. “Goodness me! Who can afford to buy this
over-priced nonsense? Look at it – all leather and chains and
feathers. How uncomfortable!”

I smiled wanly and hurried her
on to the rack where the lingerie I’d been searching for was
nestled. And I spent the next ten minutes helping her choose
half-a-dozen new pairs of sensible granny undies in assorted
colours.

“Thank you so much, dear,” she
gushed. “You are the most helpful person I’ve ever encountered in
this store.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Thank
you
!”

“What’s your name?”

“Tilly Chalmers.”

She looked around and spotting a
man rushing past, waved her hand and called out. “Excuse me. Are
you a staff member?”

The man hurried over, all
attentiveness. He resembled someone out of a sixties family sitcom
with crisply pressed trousers, a perky bowtie, side-parted hair and
a blindingly cheerful manner. “Yes, madam. I’m the store manager.
How may I help you?”

“I want to commend this young
lady for her service. Her name is Tilly Chalmers, remember that.
You ought to be proud to have such an excellent member of
staff.”

“We’re proud of all our staff,
madam, but of course we’re especially pleased to hear of excellent
service.” He turned to me, smiling. “Well done, Tilly!”

“Oh, but –” I started.

“Look, she’s talked me into
buying
six
pairs of underwear today! I’d scarcely hoped to
go home with one.”

“Let me ring those up for you,
madam,” he offered, the epitome of good customer service. And he
ushered her to a nearby purchase point to complete the sale.

Smiling to myself at the
misunderstanding, I continued browsing. A hand landed on my
arm.

“Thank you again so much, dear,”
said the elderly lady.

“It was nothing, really,” I
replied, embarrassed.

“I hope I see you next time I
visit.”

“Oh, but –” It was too late. She
was gone with a wave of her hand, happily clutching her bag of
underwear.

The manager approached me,
smiling. I thought this would be the perfect time to set the record
straight and opened my mouth to speak, but he spoke up first.

“I’m trying to place you,” he
said with cheery sheepishness. “Don’t tell me! Let me guess. My
wife is always scolding me for being completely hopeless with faces
and I’ve been trying really hard to remember people.” He
concentrated, his brow furrowed and lips pursed, before his face
flooded with satisfaction. “Ladies shoes! Right?”

“Um, well, I have
been
in
ladies shoes, but –”

He wasn’t listening. “I knew it!
I’m improving.”

He was so pleased with himself
that I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. What did it matter
after all? I’d find Daniel and Niq and leave the store as soon as
possible. No harm done to anyone.

But the proactive manager – his
nametag read ‘Ted’– had other ideas. He whipped out his phone.
“Hold still.” He took my photo before I realised what he was doing.
“Of course you’ve heard of our new employee incentive program.”

“Um –”

“Managers are encouraged by head
office to recognise good work when we find it. And I have found it
today!”

“But –”

Ted waggled his finger in front
of my face. “Uh-uh. No arguments. It’s important that you quiet
achievers are properly acknowledged by the company.” He held up
that same finger. “Wait here.”

He trotted over to the purchase
counter and fiddled on the computer with his phone. That done, he
picked up the receiver on the counter phone and spoke into it. His
animated voice rang out around us on the in-store announcement
speakers. My heart dropped down into my shoes.

“Excuse me, shoppers. Welcome to
the store and thank you for shopping with us today. I’d like to let
you know about one of our staff members, Tilly Chalmers. Tilly
works in ladies lingerie, so why don’t you drop by, say hello and
let her show you why she’s our Employee of the Day. And so you can
recognise her, I’ve just uploaded her photo on the video screens
located around the store. I’m sure you’ll all join me in
congratulating Tilly on this much-deserved recognition of her hard
work on behalf of you, our valued customers.”

I twisted my head around until I
spotted one of the screens that usually highlighted products on
special. A hideously washed-out rabbit-in-the-headlights photo of
me beamed up on the screen, larger than life, my eyes wide in
stupefaction and mouth gaping open slackly. ‘Employee of the Day’,
written in a fancy font, flashed on and off underneath my face.

Oh, dear God, no!

I hoped beyond all hope that
Daniel and Niq had grown bored of this store and had already left.
But of course that was a vain wish because they strolled over, huge
grins on their faces and stood around, silently laughing at me.
Unfortunately I was trapped in the middle of a rush of customers,
under the proud eye of Ted who’d decided to serve on the counter in
the section for the rest of the afternoon in a show of support for
new favourite staff member.

How the hell did this happen
to me?
I wondered in bewilderment as I helped one fussy, stout
woman carry her purchases to the counter to be served by Ted.

When Ted suggested not long
afterwards that I take an afternoon coffee break, I made a run for
it. I collected Daniel and Niq by the hands and walking very
quickly, fled the store. It wasn’t easy as customers and other
staff clapped me on the shoulder and congratulated me as I hurried
by, recognising me from that bloody photo. I nodded and smiled, but
didn’t stop, eyes on the exit.

“Don’t forget about drinks after
work on Friday, Tilly,” yelled out one woman and I waved at her
vaguely, fleeing past her at double speed. I didn’t say a thing
until we were safely back in the car, driving out of the carpark,
Daniel and Niq collapsed against their seats with laughter.

“Not one word about this to
anybody,” I warned.

“It’s too good not to share,”
laughed Daniel, not promising anything. “Employee of the Day! And
did you see that photo of you? Good God, it was hideous.”

Niq doubled over with
giggles.

I yielded and started laughing
myself. “Well, what can I say? I’m very good at my job.”

And laughing together, we drove
home.

I hid in my flat for the rest of
the day, not wanting to know if anyone else had heard about my
little misadventure. By the time Daniel and Niq came over to my
place that evening, I was putting the final touches on a quick
chicken and noodle stir-fry; nothing exciting, but a quick, weekday
meal. They enjoyed it, as they seem to love everything I made for
them, and I guess that was why I received so much pleasure from
cooking for them. It’s always nice to be appreciated.
I suppose
like, for example, receiving an Employee of the Day award
, I
thought with a smile.

Afterwards we sat cosily on my
lounge, munching popcorn and watching one of the guys’ favourite
genres – a horror movie. It was classic horror tonight, featuring
two of cinema’s scariest psychos, pitching wits and sharp
implements against each other. I spent three-quarters of the movie
with my hands over my eyes while they laughed hysterically, finding
it more funny than scary. After they left, I lay in the darkness in
my bed, eyes wide open, afraid to go to sleep in case the nightmare
monster came to get me in my dreams. I
hated
horror movies,
having far too active an imagination for my own good. One day I’d
have to refuse to watch any more with them, but I disliked being
seen as a wimp even more than I disliked staying awake all night
trembling in fear. I knew that I’d never speak up.

Chapter 4

Sleep eluding me, I decided to
go to the rooftop for some fresh air. Hopefully it would encourage
sleepiness, as well as some perspective on the impossibility of
chainsaw wielding maniacs being able to access the fortress-like
Warehouse. I quickly fumbled around in the dark for a bikini set,
thinking that a dip in the hot tub was probably just what I
needed.

Heller had set up the rooftop as
a leisure centre, complete with pool table, barbeque, mini-kitchen,
hot tub and sun lounges. There was also a small, but productive,
herb garden supposedly tended by Victor, whose mysterious presence
had taken on legendary status equal to the Loch Ness monster and
Yeti combined. Heller always refused to talk about him and I still
hadn’t set eyes on him. However I made generous use of the herb
garden, being a big fan of fresh herbs in cooking, so gave due
credit to Victor for his hard work, whether he existed or not.

I made a beeline straight for
the mini-fridge to fetch a glass of wine, knowing it would help me
loosen up. As I reached for the bottle in the fridge, there was a
rustle of water from the hot tub behind me.

“
Shit!”
I screeched in
terror, dropping the wine glass I held, fearing my head was about
to be parted from my body with some well-honed hedge-trimming
technology. The glass smashed noisily on the concrete floor.

“Matilda, calm down. It’s only
me.” I heard Heller’s soothing voice and an enormous splashing
noise as he stepped out of the hot tub. “Stay where you are. Are
you wearing any shoes?”

“No.”

“Don’t move. I’ve just put some
on.”

He turned on a light, hurriedly
towelled himself dry and came over to assess the situation. Without
a word, he swept me off my feet and deposited me on one of the sun
lounges, before quickly cleaning up the detritus of the wine glass.
He looked at me, then pulled out another glass, filled it with
lovely cold sauvignon blanc. He handed it to me as he sat on the
other lounge chair, facing me. He kept the towel wrapped around his
hard waist, and I knew then that he had been wearing nothing in the
hot tub. Since I’d started working and living at the Warehouse, he
was careful about wearing bathers, but there was still always the
risk of catching him without clothes, especially late at night. He
didn’t have any hang-ups about nudity.

“A bit jumpy tonight, my
sweet?”

“I watched a horror movie with
Daniel and Niq earlier. I thought you were a psycho!”

He chuckled quietly. “Only
sometimes.”

I smiled. “Not
your
kind
of psycho. The indiscriminate, woman-murdering kind.”

“You’re safe with me.” I
wondered briefly if that was true after what Sid had said.

“I haven’t been able to sleep
all night after watching it.”

“Come and sleep with me then,”
he offered, his blue eyes piercing through the gloom of the dim
lighting. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

“Far too long.”

“Yes.”

I sculled my glass of wine
immediately. A sensible woman’s not going to turn down an
invitation like that, no matter whatever Sid had said earlier.

He stood up and held out his
hands to me. I took them and he hauled me up forcefully, straight
into his arms and he wrapped them around me. He was very tall, but
so was I, and my face rested nicely against his neck. He squeezed
me tightly, then holding my hand, led me down to his flat and into
his king-sized bed.

As I’ve said before, it wasn’t
the first time I’d spent the night with him in his bed, and I
slipped under the covers with no embarrassment or unwillingness.
Unlike some men in the world, I could categorically count on Heller
to stop if I said no to anything, which gave me the confidence to
stay with him. That and the fact that I was still scared from the
movie. I
really
hated horror movies. I’d have no problem
sleeping with him holding me though.

He slipped in next to me after
taking a quick shower. We lay on our sides and stared at each other
in the strong moonlight streaming in from the window.

“How’s it going with the
boyfriend?” He disliked Will intensely, but he would have felt the
same about anybody I slept with. And I guess Sid was right – Heller
was possessive like that.

“The usual. We never spend
enough time together. He complained we only have enough time for
sex and nothing else.” I’d always tried to be honest with Heller
about everything, except perhaps my own feelings for him.