Tell That to My Heart Page 2

  2

  A gasp escaped Mim’s lips, betraying her shock before she had chance to stop it. It was as if the lid was lifted on a box of emotions she’d kept packed away, buried in a deep, dark place. Suddenly, they came rushing at her, crowding her mind, creeping up her spine, their force taking her by surprise. ‘You!’ Her voice was barely above a whisper. The girl responded with a flick of her eyebrows.

  Mim swallowed and took a deep breath, hoping she gave an outward appearance of calm. It had been several months since she’d last set eyes on this individual, and it had taken a second or two for it to register just who she was. The girl’s previously light brown locks had been replaced with a curtain of glossy black hair and a heavy, blunt fringe, the style finished with a vibrant turquoise dip-dye. It had thrown Mim for a moment, until the arrogant, self-assured expression triggered a painful memory. One Mim would rather forget.

  ‘Where the hell have you been, Jemima? I only asked you to make me a coffee, not go to Brazil for the beans.’ Catherine’s words brought her back to the moment, the accompanying disingenuous smile could easily have been mistaken for a sneer, and Mim didn’t have the will to respond.

  ‘Hi, there, Jemima, you look surprised to see me,’ said the girl, taking a sip of tea from Mim’s mug.

  ‘Oh, erm, yes, I am.’ Major understatement!

  ‘You two know each other?’ asked Catherine.

  ‘Er, kind of,’ said Mim.

  ‘You could say.’ The girl smirked as she swivelled on Mim’s seat. It took every ounce of Mim’s strength not to reach over and yank her out of it.

  ‘I assume you’re not going to hang on to that until it gets cold?’ Catherine took the cup from Mim.

  ‘Oh, no, course not.’

  ‘Right, well, you won’t need me to introduce you to Honey, but you will need me to tell you that she’s the new marketing forward-slash PR assistant and you need to show her the ropes; take her under your wing and look after her.’

  New marketing assistant? Since when? Take her under my wing? Look after her? Like bugger I will! She’s the last one who needs looking after; she should come with a warning: “Watch out! I’m trouble”. Sensing everyone’s eyes upon her, Mim pushed her thoughts out of the way. ‘Oh, right, okay.’

  ‘Right, now we’ve got that sorted, I’ll leave you to get on. Aidan, Anna-Lisa, that includes you, too. The people in this room seem to have forgotten we have a deadline looming. And you’re not the only one who’s late today, Jemima; I need to find out where that bloody new art director’s got to.’ She flicked her beringed hand at them and left.

  Catherine had barely had chance to leave the room before Honey spoke. ‘Jemima, before we go any further, can I just say that I hope you’re not going to hold it against me about what happened with Rick. After all, it was hardly my fault; he didn’t tell me he already had a girlfriend.’

  With her mind reeling, Mim slipped off her leather jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, then picked up her floral Cath Kidston backpack. Who are you trying to kid? You knew full well he had a girlfriend. ‘I’m not going to hold anything against you; it’s in the past. You did me a favour.’

  ‘That’s good. It’s just at the time, you seemed a little … what’s the word? Gutted.’

  ‘It is, good, I mean; you did me a favour.’ Mim let a beat pass, ignoring Honey’s last barb, aware of Anna-Lisa and Aidey’s silent observation. ‘Right, we’d better get started.’ She looked across at the new girl, expecting her to get up out of the seat but all she got was a self-assured smile.

  ‘Honey, you need to go and get yourself a chair, you’re in Mim’s at the moment and she needs to sit in it herself to be able to start work,’ said Aidey. ‘You can use the spare computer on the desk beside you, you just need to grab something to sit on.’

  ‘Yes, there’s a couple of spare office chairs in the room next door; you can go and chose one from there.’ Anna-Lisa made no attempt to disguise the cool tone to her broad North Yorkshire accent.

  Honey pulled herself up and pushed past Mim. ‘Right, I’ll do that then, shall I?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Mim.

  She watched Honey leave the room before she spoke again. ‘Okay, so this is officially the morning from hell. Any idea what’s going on? And thanks for that by the way, I don’t think she’d have budged if it hadn’t been for what you said.’

  Anna-Lisa, the magazine’s petite editorial assistant, mimed tearing out her soft-pink bob. ‘Arghh! Morning from hell is an understatement! Catherine’s managed to get a bee in her knickers over the weekend and is on the bloody warpath more than usual. And as for her latest recruit, she totally knew what she was doing, sitting in your seat like she owned it; it’s so obvious it’s someone else’s desk, what with all the stickers on the computer, manky dead flowers in the vase and stuff on the desk.’ She cast her eyes over the said “stuff”, which could justifiably be referred to as “mess”. ‘She’s just being a cow. What the hell have we done to deserve having Honey Blossom pigging Blenkinsopp, working here? Please tell me it’s all just a horrible nightmare and I’ll wake up from it soon.’

  ‘More to the point, what’s poor Mim done to deserve this? There’s obviously some unpleasant history between the two of you,’ said Aidey.

  ‘Ughh! You could say.’ Mim flopped into her seat, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. Adrenalin was coursing round her bloodstream, pushing her stress levels to new heights. ‘How come you two know her, though?’

  ‘She did some work experience at White Sprite Media when my sister was working there a few years ago. Felt more like a lifetime apparently; let’s just say she left a bit of an impression: lying, chasing after the blokes, just generally causing mayhem, and a lot of clearing up after her when she’d gone. Since then, I’ve heard her name mentioned in relation to a few other companies – never anything complimentary or positive,’ said Anna-Lisa. ‘And it looks like she’s still continuing with the ridiculous sassy teenager act she had at White Sprite Media, even though she must be in her twenties now.’

  ‘Yeah, she must be, and I can remember the horror stories you told me,’ said Aidey. ‘And I still find it hard to see how her name matches what I’ve heard of her personality; surely a name like Honey Blossom conjures up images of someone sweet and nice. Are you sure it’s her real name?’

  ‘From what I can gather it is; it hardly suits her, does it?’ said Anna-Lisa.

  ‘Not from what I’ve seen so far. Let’s hope our first impressions are wrong, otherwise things are going to get even worse round here,’ said Aidey.

  ‘Oh, please don’t say that.’ Mim reached into her backpack and pulled out a packet of Dolly Mixtures, setting it down on the desk.

  ‘She’s not the one who Rick cheat … I mean, she’s not the tart who threw herself at Rick, is she?’ asked Anna-Lisa.

  Mim nodded. ‘She’s the one, though, surprisingly, I never knew her name.’ She removed last week’s bunch of faded pink gerberas from the squat glass vase on her desk and threw them in the bin; she wouldn’t have time to replace them today.

  ‘Typical. My sister said she threw herself at every man in her path, preferably if they were attached. Seems to like the challenge, or the need to have what somebody else has.’

  Mim cast her mind back to the night she’d seen Rick kissing the girl at the back of the Highway Man pub. She flinched, the memory still raw. The girl in question had appeared on the scene a few weeks beforehand, albeit lurking in the background, her voice and laugh just that little bit too loud. She always seemed to be around when Mim was with Rick; she’d even noticed the girl watching them intently on several occasions. And whenever Mim had caught her eye, the girl would smirk, which triggered a feeling of unease that had felt almost sinister. She couldn’t explain it at the time, but it hadn’t taken her long to find out why.

  Mim was sitting at the bar of the Highway Man, waiting for Rick when a text message pinged on her phone. She snatched it up and rea
d it, a frown drawing her thick, dark eyebrows together.

  ‘If you’re wondering where your boyfriend is, you’ll find him round the back of the pub.’

  ‘What?’ She read it again before glancing around the room, wondering if it was someone there who’d sent it. But the place was full of regulars, and there was nothing revealing in their behaviour. Her heart started thudding, and her stomach twisted into a tight knot as that old familiar feeling started to creep its way up inside her. She checked the number; it was no one from her contacts list. ‘Not this again.’ She slid off her stool, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

  ‘You okay, love?’ the landlord asked.

  ‘I’m not sure, Mick.’ Mim made her way to the back door, apprehension pulsing around her body with every step. She’d only just set foot in the beer garden when she spotted a couple getting intimate by the stone outbuilding, the man’s hands roaming enthusiastically under the girl’s top.

  Though he had his back to her, Mim recognised the floppy black hair, the long, muscular legs and the battered leather jacket: Rick. As if on cue, the girl opened her eyes and smirked over his shoulder, waving her mobile phone at Mim. Rick turned, his face dropping as it registered he’d been caught red-handed, the girl’s lipstick smeared across his mouth along with his guilt.

  Mim fled back through the pub and out into the street, tears pouring down her cheeks, her heart shattering into tiny pieces as she left the scene of his betrayal. It was bad enough that she’d seen him cheating on her, but what hurt her the most was he didn’t even try to apologise or make excuses.

  ‘Why her, why here?’ said Mim.

  ‘God only knows, but it sounds like it’s not going to be easy for you working with her,’ said Aidey.

  ‘And you look knackered, hon, I thought you said you were having a quiet weekend but you look like you’ve been partying hard.’ Anna-Lisa peered closer at Mim, scrutinising the dark circles under her eyes.

  Mim lowered her voice. ‘I wish; I spent the weekend at home working on that little freelance marketing job for the organic cosmetic company; you remember, the one who got in touch a couple of weeks ago. I went to bed early every night, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, that was it, my mind just took off and I couldn’t get to sleep until well into the early hours.’

  ‘Oh, Mim, you’re going to have to do something about that before it gets out of hand, insomnia can make you ill, you know,’ said Anna-Lisa.

  ‘Yeah, and that’s the last thing you’ll need now you’ve got “you-know-who” working beside you,’ said Aidey.

  ‘Hmm, no doubt about it, she’s got an air of trouble about her ’ said Anna-Lisa. ‘We’d better watch out; from what my sister says, she’s a bitch!’

  ‘Who’s a bitch?’ Honey pushed the door open with the chair.

  ‘Oh, just someone you don’t know,’ said Anna-Lisa.

  ‘S’alright, I can manage, I don’t need any help, this chair isn’t heavy or anything. My godparents won’t mind that a big strapping bloke let their favourite goddaughter struggle while he just sat there watching and not lifting a finger to help.’

  ‘Godparents?’ said Mim.

  Honey set the chair down. ‘Yep, didn’t you know? Auntie Catherine and Uncle Kenneth are my godparents.’ She paused for effect. ‘Will here do?’

  Alarm bells started clanging loudly in Mim’s ears; if she didn’t need the job and the money, she would have made a bolt for the door right there and then. Instead she pushed down the feeling of despair. ‘Yep, there’s fine.’

  3

  Mim logged in on her computer before checking the list of jobs she hadn’t managed to cross off her “to-do” list the previous Friday, which had turned out to be more manic than usual, thanks to being sent off at the last minute to pick up the invitations for the Yorkshire Portions Christmas party from the printers at the other side of the city. Being scatty, lists were essential to her daily routine – both at home and at work – and the only way she could keep some semblance of order in her life. They still didn’t stop her from the occasional bout of forgetfulness though, like the time she’d forgotten to organise Catherine a wedding anniversary bouquet of flowers from Kenneth. She hadn’t actually forgotten, she’d crossed it off her list instead of the item below it. The ensuing bollocking from Kenneth meant it was something she hadn’t done since.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you playing at, you stupid girl? Are you deliberately trying to wreck my marriage?’ he’d yelled at her. She’d looked at him with morbid fascination as his porcine eyes had bulged, while his face had puffed up like an over-inflated bull-frog and turned a vibrant shade of red that crept up over his bald head and gleamed through his comb-over. He’d looked so ridiculous, she’d felt a giggle rising inside her, and it had taken every ounce of self-restraint she’d possessed not to let it escape in a noisy snort. Only when he’d threatened her with the sack had it leached away, her amusement hastily replaced with panic. She’d really had to grovel to keep her job that day.

  How the hell is it my job to order his stuck-up moo of a wife’s flowers for their anniversary? My job title is “Marketing Assistant”, not “General Sodding Dog’s Body”! she’d fumed silently.

  Luckily, Mim had a friend who worked at Bloomz – York’s most exclusive florists – and a quick phone call had resulted in a hastily put together bunch of flowers that saved the day, and Mim’s neck.

  Still, it wasn’t the worst job she’d had to do while she’d been working there, that accolade had to go to the time Kenneth had stepped in dog dirt on his way to work; without a second thought, he’d handed her his shoe with instructions to clean it up, and quickly. Mim had gagged as she’d taken the offending item from him. Yep, that would go down as an all-time low at Yorkshire Portions Magazine. But not as low as the arrival of Honey Blossom Blenkinsopp.

  Mim was busy designing a Facebook advert, chewing on a mouthful of Dolly Mixtures, when the phone on the desk she shared with Honey rang with an internal call. She waited a moment, hoping Honey would answer it. But the ringing continued while Honey’s attention remained fixed on her mobile phone.

  Mim glanced over at Aidey and Anna-Lisa who were looking daggers at the new marketing assistant. She pushed the half-chewed sweets into the side of her mouth so she could speak. ‘Can you get that, Honey?’

  ‘I’m busy.’

  Yeah, busy scrolling through your Instagram feed!

  Anna-Lisa’s top lip curled into a snarl, while Aidey rolled his eyes. Mim hastily swallowed the sweets and snatched up the receiver, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice. ‘Hello.’ Her heart sank as Catherine’s officious voice barked in her ear.

  Seconds later, she replaced the handset and got to her feet, shaking her head as she left the room, aware of three pairs of eyes on her. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, yet today was already going from bad to worse. Catherine’s latest demand had been for her to make coffee for the new art director who’d just arrived, and boy did it stick in her throat.

  Where the bloody hell in my job description does it say that I’m the office sodding junior? Begrudgingly, Mim threw the coffee granules into the mug, not caring how it would taste. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, at this very moment, she’d be quite happy if it tasted vile; it would serve the new art director right, he should be making his own coffee. And he needn’t get any ideas, thinking he could just click his fingers and she’d jump to make a coffee whenever he wanted one. Not a chance. The bottle of cheap washing-up liquid caught her eye and, for a fleeting moment, she considered adding a quick squirt of it to the mug; that would ensure the art director wouldn’t ask her to make him a drink ever again. Yep, start as you mean to go on, Mim! Genius! The thought briefly lifted her spirits and a small smile hovered over her mouth. It would probably make him fart bubbles! She stifled a giggle at that.

  Her annoyance resurfaced as she chuntered her way to Catherine’s office. Biting down on her emotions, Mim knocked on the door and walked in. ‘Here’s t
he coff—’ She stopped dead in her tracks, shock whipping her words right out of her mouth as a bolt of attraction simultaneously shot through her. There, standing right in front of her, was the man she’d bumped into, the resultant coffee stain glaring at her accusingly from his pale blue shirt. ‘Oh,’ was all she could think to say as the distinctly masculine aroma of his cologne infiltrated her senses.

  ‘Hello, is that for me?’ The man held out his hand for the mug, his disarming smile revealing Hollywood-white teeth with a barely discernible snaggle to his right canine that was indescribably appealing.

  ‘Oh, er, yes, it is.’ He was tall, much taller than Mim’s five-feet-ten, with high cheekbones so razor-sharp you could slice cheese with them, and a hint of dark stubble that grazed his strong jaw. Mmm-hmm, delicious! Her state of shock after her fall at their earlier meeting must have numbed her senses at the time; he was even more good-looking than she remembered, intimidatingly so, in fact. And he knew it. He was exactly the sort of man that would have you tongue-tied and feeling awkward without uttering a word or lifting a finger. But Mim couldn’t take her eyes off him, drinking in his floppy hair that was as black and glossy as a raven’s wing, set off by a pair of almond-shaped eyes so dark they were like beads of Whitby jet, glittering with a hint of amusement and a splash of wickedness. There was no denying it, he was dangerously good-looking, with an irresistible air that screamed bad-boy. And Mim had a weak spot for bad boys.

  ‘Jemima!’ Catherine’s voice crashed into her thoughts. ‘Let go of the mug; give the man his coffee!’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course.’

  ‘Thank you.’ His mouth twitched as he took the cup.