Me and Mr Carrington: A Short Story Read Online Free Page A

aswell take this too.’ It’s a silk scarf. ‘It has a slight flaw in the pattern so we can’t sell it, but I’ve squared it with them upstairs and bought it for a steal,’ she explains. I hesitate. ‘Go on dear. It’s yours.’ She winks.
    ‘Thanks, but why don’t you keep it, it’s much more your thing,’ I smile diplomatically. It’s an old lady-style scarf with galloping horses on and really not my style.
    ‘Nonsense. You could wear it when you go out with Mr Carrington. Very classy. You’ll want to look your best.’ Stroking the silky fabric, she eyes me eagerly.
    ‘Well, if you put it like that …’ I soften, not wanting to offend her, and figuring I can just stow it under my counter or something in any case. I don’t have to actually wear it, and she looks so pleased – like she’s really getting into the romance of it all.
    ‘Good girl. Let me show you how to tie it.’ Mrs Grace deftly flips my hair aside and sweeps the scarf around my neck, tying it in a jaunty side knot. ‘Ooh, very Parisian chic. Mr Carrington won’t know what’s hit him when he gets an eyeful of you in this.’ She pats the back of my hand. ‘But you will be careful, won’t you dear?’
Ah, I knew it.
I brace myself. ‘They’re not like us, them upstairs. Have your fun by all means, but just remember to watch your back …’
    ‘I will. And thank you for the scarf.’ I lean in to kiss her cheek. ‘I better go.’
    ‘Right you are dear, and don’t worry about taking the flowers up with you now. Pop down just after closing time – I’ll wait on a bit for you.’
    ‘If you’re sure?’ I grin.
    ‘Of course. I’ve nothing to rush home for …’

Chapter Four
    Hi Mr Carrington (see what you’ve done to me),
    Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers, what a brilliant surprise! I LOVE them.
    And to answer your question in the last email … I SURE HOPE SO!
    And I sign off with this, seeing as he obviously didn’t mind the hugs and kisses last time.
    Luv,
    Georgie xoxoxo
    A few minutes later, he replies.
    Hi Georgie,
    You’re very welcome. I thought the flowers might cheer you up seeing as you had to return to rainy Mulberry-On-Sea, not that I’m enjoying the sun here at all. Definitely not; in fact, please think of me stuck indoors toiling away for the greater good of Carrington’s …
    Are you around tonight? Wondered if you fancy a chat? I could call you.
    Mr Carrington, to youxx
    Oh yes please. I fancy that, Mr Carrington. A lot!
    So here I am in my flat having polished off two large glasses of pink wine and half a pizza, and I still haven’t heard from Tom. I even had a blissful bubble bath, figuring the phone would ring the very minute I submerged myself into the water – that’s usually what happens when I’m waiting on a call, but nope, nothing.
    And then it dawns on me. Does Tom actually have my number? You know, I’m not entirely sure he does. Whenever we’ve spoken on the phone before it’s been at work, usually with him in his office upstairs and me ducked in the alcove talking quietly into the staff phone on the wall. Crap! I can’t exactly email him to ask, which would just be like saying ‘
why haven’t you called me yet
?’ And that won’t do … Oh no, no, no! Sooo uncool to be that woman who waits by the phone. Desperate. I can’t imagine that the type of women he’s used to carry on like that, but then they’re probably way too busy with hectic and extremely glamorous social calendars to be bothered by a mere phone call from one of their many ‘to-die-for’ gorge admirers. I flick on the DVD player and settle down for a Mad Men boxset-fest instead. I can always rely on Don to distract me.
    I’m two episodes in when my mobile buzzes and I practically skyrocket myself off the sofa, only to feel instantly crushed on seeing that it’s Eddie calling, and not Tom.
    ‘Tom just rang asking for your mobile number. I gave it to him, and then realised I should have checked with