Page 31 of Cuckoo

I slide lower in my seat, bringing my head down and quickly whipping my scarf up and around so it’s covering half my face. The waitress chooses that exact moment to come over to me and I curse in my head, hoping it doesn’t direct attention over to me as the bell rings, signalling Lilah’s entry. ‘All done here? Are you ready to pay the bill?’

I nod quickly, not saying anything in case my voice is recognisable from the scene at the club. Lilah is so far oblivious, over at the counter where she’s holding a phone away from her ear while she orders a large flat white, to go. I need to keep my head down until she leaves. The waitress is yapping on at me, but I’m not listening, nodding half-heartedly and holding out my contactless card. As we wait for the machine to print the receipts I risk a glance up. Lilah’s back is to me but that Prada bag is slung over one shoulder and she’s wearing a perfectly tailored duck-egg blue suit with cream court heels, the leather supple and expensive-looking.

‘Yes, I’m so sorry, please tell Hannah I’m going to be fifteen minutes late to our lunch meeting. We had a staff call that overran but I’m on my way over now. I’ll be there as soon as possible,’ Lilah is saying into her phone as her coffee is handed to her. Her voice is breathy and feminine, with the slightest hint of an accent. ‘I’m on my way to the station right now. If she can hold the reservation I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She turns directly towards me and I quickly look down,staring into the dregs of my coffee. I sit totally unmoving, too scared even to breathe, waiting for her to stop, stare, say to me,Oh my God, you’re the girl from the club!

But nothing happens. I breathe a sigh of relief and slide off my stool, thanking the waitress absent-mindedly as Lilah leaves the cafe and I watch her, still on her phone, heading off towards the Underground station.

She’ll be gone for an hour if it’s a lunch meeting. Minimum. That’s more than enough time for me to pop into her office and have a quick look around. This is an opportunity that’s been gifted to me by the gods, I’m sure of it. I can be in and out in twenty minutes, tops.

Chapter Thirty

My finger shakes slightly as I ring the buzzer labelled ‘Floor 3’.

‘Hello, Sparxx?’ a voice answers.

‘Hi, yes, my name is Hannah. I’m afraid I’ve had a bit of a mix-up with Lilah. We were meant to be having lunch but got confused about where we were meeting… Anyway, she’s on her way back to meet me now but told me to come up and wait in the office?’

What feels like an hour passes and my heart hammers in my chest with anticipation. My palms are sweaty and I’m trying to work out how fast I can run away when the door makes a clicking sound. ‘Okay, come on up,’ the voice replies, sounding bored.

My shoulders sag in relief and I wipe a line of sweat from my upper lip. By the time I’ve traipsed up to the third floor, the sweat is back. I pull at my coat. You’d think a company charging £300 for a jumper could get a lift installed. Once on the third floor, a big glass wall with the Sparxx logo on it shows me the office in its entirety. It’s very small and it looks like there’s nobody around except the receptionist, who is flicking through a magazine.

‘Hi,’ she says without looking up. ‘You said Lilah is already heading back to meet you, so I don’t need to call her?’

I step in past the glass wall. ‘Yes… no, don’t worry!’ I force a laugh, nerves making my voice break. I swallow. ‘She messaged as she was getting back on the Underground, she won’t be long.’ I give her my most convincing smile, but the girl is already back to looking at her magazine. ‘Well, you can just take a seat here or head through and wait in her office.’ She points to a small box room with three desks in it.

‘Okay,’ I say nonchalantly, heading over to the office. My timing is perfect– everyone is out for lunch. I check on the girl at the front desk one more time. She’s inspecting a horoscope website intently now, the magazine forgotten on her lap. Easily distracted. Good. I close the door quietly behind me.

I quickly scan the three desks in the room. The first has a picture of two kids in a photograph frame, so I instantly discount it. The next displays a birthday card which loudly declares: ‘Harriet is 30!’ That leaves only one desk. And, sure enough, that huge bouquet is atop it, with a ‘Thank You’ card. I hurry over. I take a little peek at the card and it confirms what I already thought.

Dear Lilah, thank you for all your hard work with us on the Instagram campaign and for your patience. The pictures are perfect! Can’t wait to work with you again. Bella xxxxx

I roll my eyes in the way that Sukhi would, closing the card and slotting it back in between the leaves of the bouquet. The desk itself is boring on the outside, much neater than the other two with fancy-looking stationery and paper-organiser trays decorating the surface. I should have known– of course she’s mega organised.

I sit down experimentally in her cushioned desk chair. Ican smell the faint residue of a sickly-sweet floral perfume. Nothing like the spicy citrus one I wear that Noah loves.Loved. I try to get on to her computer, wiggling the mouse, but of course it’s password-protected and I don’t have the time or the knowledge to hack that, so I move swiftly on to the drawers, my ears listening out for footsteps approaching the door the entire time.

The first drawer is filled with loads of correspondence and ‘vision board’ files, whatever they are, plus magazine clippings. I turn to the second, which seems to be more personal. She’s stashed a spare deodorant, a lipstick and a hairbrush in here. I look at the name at the bottom of the lipstick and can barely contain my laughter.Bunny Boiler.I pick at the hairs on the brush with interest. A little part of her that I can just snap. I pull a strand off the bristles, tying it around my finger until the tip starts to redden, and then give a sharp tug. I get a sick burst of pleasure from the sight of her hair ripping in half, fluttering sadly to the ground. I place the brush, minus that single strand, back in the drawer and return to my sleuthing.

I rifle quickly through the papers, and most of them are boring and work-related but then I stop on something that catches my eye. It’s a copy of her employment contract. It seems a bit weird to have a copy of this in your drawer at work, but I’m also interested to know her hours and salary. I take it out carefully, making a note of what it was wedged between so I can put it back in its rightful place. I scan over the information, mostly stuff I already know, her job title, name, address, and try to swallow down a lump of jealousy when I reach her salary. Needless to say, it makes my annualpay look like loose change. Still not enough to warrant a house on St Margaret’s Avenue, so I suppose I can confirm my family money theory.

I mindlessly flick through a couple more pages and stop dead when I notice something that makes my blood run cold. On page six, she has taken a highlighter and circled around the maternity leave section.

My brain leaps into overdrive, immediately jumping to conclusions while simultaneously trying to stay calm and rational. But she’s written something as well, beside it. In loopy cursive handwriting, which I have to squint to make out: ‘Secondment 2025’.

Secondment? But what does that mean? Is she trying to use maternity leave as a secondment? Or take back-to-back leave? Is she planning ahead? She can’t be pregnant– I saw her drinking in a bloody club just the other day! My mind is going 500 miles per hour when something else in the drawer catches my eye, something I must have shuffled out of place when pulling out the contract. I carefully slot that back where it was and lift the pile of papers to reach the edge of a photograph peeking out from the bottom. I scrabble for it, hearing movement on the other side of the wall, heading closer. I don’t have much time.I snatch at the photograph and when I see the image on it, I think I may vomit.

Brown eyes, chestnut hair and a small mouth stare back at me.

Lilah has a photograph of me in her desk drawer.

Chapter Thirty-One

I jerk backwards in the chair, slamming the desk drawer shut just as a figure appears in the room.

Oh my God.

It’s not Lilah.

I feel like I may collapse with relief. My mouth goes slack and I’m slick with sweat after my discovery.Why does Lilah have my photo in her office drawer? Why is she circling the maternity section of her contract?!

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