Page 9 of The Grand Duel

The woman lifts her head to look at me, her eyes narrowing a little before her pen drops to the large desk.

“I’m…Lissie,” I eventually say, presuming the owner of the establishment would want my legal name and not a fake one.

I take in the office again, the deep emerald green that flows in from upstairs, the lavishness of it.

“Lissie?” she repeats, waiting for a last name.

The question catches me off guard, and I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, my heart dropping.

“Jesus, don’t hurt yourself.” She sighs. “Lissie,” she concludes, gesturing for me to speak with her hand. “You have two minutes of my day.”

Two minutes to put a roof over my head.

I swallow.I’ve got this.

“I’m in search of a job and was told you may have a position behind the bar available. I’m a criminal law undergraduate with three years’ experience as a summer associate at a law firm called FTR Solicitors. I’m driven, having met multiple targets at FTR, and was the head of my team for the final six months of my employment. I love working with others, strive under pressure, and genuinely enjoy being busy. I do need good clear communication and would say it’s a shortfall on my part because it’s not always ideal in every setting, but it’s something I’m working on, and I’m aware of. I’ve never been reprimanded or fired from a job, having left FTR under exceptional and somewhat sad circumstances when the owner and founder passed away. I took five sick days in the three years I’ve been in employment—three of which were genuine. The other two wereat the hands of some poor Thursday night choices on my part and copious amounts of alcohol. I think I could offer something to your establishment and am eager to get stuck in. I’m a fast learner and very laid-back for the most part. You won’t get any drama from me.” I take a pause.What else, what else? Maybe if I mention how I want to be a barrister eventually but?—

“You’re unsuccessful.”

My heart lurches in my chest, my emotions slipping out from under my grasp.

She gives me a half-assed smile and picks up her pen.

“Wait. What? Why?” I say in a panic, regretting the champagne as I rub at my chest.

She doesn’t look up. “You spent your first minute telling me you need a job and listing useless, irrelevant qualifications to me and couldn’t find use for the final one. You get a gold star. Well done. Now, please, leave.”

She’s saying no. “I’m sorry?” This can’t be happening. Ineedthis job.

I can’t go home.

“I appreciate your recognition of my loss of time, yet you continue to waste it.”

I turn away from her, my eyes really burning now. Because I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to tell Jovie that I couldn’t do it or Mum and Dad that we need them. Because we don’t. We did, but we don’t anymore.

I stare down at my feet. Edna’s worn pair of trainers reminding me of what a god-awful day it’s been.

“My favourite pair of heels broke today,” I murmur, my eyes brimming.

Bronwyn tuts.

She’s a sucker for a sob story.

“My favourite pair of heels broke today,” I say a little louder, turning. I continue. “And no matter who’s asking, I’d tell themit’s the worst thing that’s happened to me all day. Maybe ever. I’d say it’s tragic and sad and that I’m going to go home in trainers that don’t feel like my own. Shoes I don’t want to be in at all. Shoes I never should have been in.” I shake my head, maybe a little bitter. “I may have wasted two minutes of your time today, and I’m sorry for that, but whilst walking here, I had hope. I still had a little hope standing outside that door.” I shrug. “Delusion, that maybe the shoes didn’t matter. That maybe my purse that was swiped on the tube this morning or the spot I’m currently taking up on my ex-colleague’s sofa doesn’t matter. That this stupid card Ed gave me would bemywin today, and I could keep pretending my feet aren’t too big for the shoes despite how unbearable they feel because my favourite pair of heels broke today, and my mother would relish in that.”

Embarrassed, I look to the ceiling, anger swirling in my eyes and making them burn.

I do not cry.

Ever.

There’s no way I’m going home.

I have to think of something else.

Maybe Ginny will let me stay a little longer. She said this week would be the last, but surely she wouldn’t kick me out with nowhere to go.

I feel Bronwyn watching me, a calm about her and all around this place that I can’t fully explain. “What would your mother think of this place, Lissie?”

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