Free Soul Protector by Amanda Leigh Cowley

finally made it
into the office, she wandered over to my desk and without any form
of greeting, threw some papers into my in-tray.
    “Oh sorry, Camille, love,” came
the voice of Arthur on the other side of the privacy board. “I
never heard you say hello. Old age is making me deaf. How are you
today?”
    I bit my lip to stop
giggling.
    “Um, yes, I’m fine Arthur thank
you. And, erm, hello to you too, Gracie.”
    “Good morning, Camille.”
    She gave me a small nod, and
hesitated. I thought for a minute she was going to stay and make
small-talk, but she obviously thought better of it and headed back
to her office.
    I shrugged and peered into my
in-tray to see what gems she’d deposited. There were a couple of
articles to proof and some receipts from restaurants she’d visited
over the last month. I knew these weren’t business-related, but
she’d stuck a post-it on the top with CLAIM scrawled in her
spidery handwriting. Finally there was another post-it with
‘Gracie, buy Heat mag and Cava.’ No please or thank you.
    I groaned internally. She just
loved to take the proverbial. Quite often, I had to stay late to
finish proper tasks, while Camille ran out of the office
mid-afternoon, inventing imaginary meetings or crises. Twice
recently, Nisha who only worked on reception part-time, had spotted
Camille out shopping with friends when she’d told us she was
attending an important meeting.
    Even when she was actually in
her glass-framed office, she would spend hours on the phone
pretending to be taking a conference call, usually one that
involved chatting and laughing with her mates.
    When I’d finished her tasks, I
knocked on Camille’s closed office door.
    “Come in,” she commanded.
    She was on the phone and didn’t
make eye contact. Instead she carried on her conversation, “No, I’m
sure he’s going to be there tonight. What time are we meeting
up?”
    When she noticed I was still
standing there, she apologised to her caller and narrowed her eyes.
“What are you doing, Gracie? Just put the shopping on my desk and
the paperwork in my in-tray.”
    I did as I was told, waited for
the acknowledgement, remembered it was Camille and backed out of
the door, cursing under my breath.
    I couldn’t stay irritated for
long though. A delicious shivery feeling descended at the thought
of seeing Dan the following evening. Just thinking about meeting up
with him was enough to make me forget about everything else.
    ~
    On the journey out of town, one
of the giant billboards beyond the traffic lights caught my eye. I
think it was advertising soft furnishings. In the picture a little
girl was sat on an L-shaped sofa with her dad. He was smiling, and
she looked like she was having a fit of giggles. It triggered a
memory of my own, of me and my dad when I was about six years
old.
    Dad had been sitting in his
favourite armchair, reading the paper. As I tried to tiptoe past
him, he dropped his paper and scooped me up onto his lap. He turned
me to face him and asked about my day at school. I tripped up my
words, concentrating hard not to say the wrong thing and upset him.
Then he smiled and told me what pretty green eyes I had.
    Beaming from ear to ear, I’d
looked across to Mum in the kitchen and was thrilled to see she was
smiling as well. With his eyes all shiny, Dad told me what an
amazing little girl I was, and how proud he felt that I was his
daughter. After he said this, to my horror, he buried his head in
my school jumper and sobbed his heart out. My smile dropped
instantly and I’d glanced up at Mum for reassurance. She was still
watching and smiling, but tears were streaming down her cheeks
too.
    ~
    As I got closer to Mum’s and
left the city behind, the landscape changed dramatically. The
concrete jungle fell away to reveal green fields, and vibrant
colours as the trees and bushes went through their rainbow of
autumn colours.
    When I entered the sleepy
neighbourhood that I still classed as home, I was pleased to