Free The Harder They Fall by Debbie McGowan Page A

frustration, shoved her too hot feet back into her shoes and stormed downstairs to her infuriatingly cool and composed receptionist, who was fully able to appreciate the through-draught from the wedged-open external door, unperturbed and oblivious in her earphone heaven.
    “I’m gonna go out there and slash his damned tyres in a minute,” Jess said to no-one at all, because Lois couldn’t hear her and Eleanor had finished for the day. Lois did, however, pick up on the fact that she had said something and paused the playback on the voice recording she was transcribing.
    “Is everything all right?” she asked in perfect RP.
    “That alarm’s been going off since half past nine. It’s driving me nuts!”
    Lois smiled. “On the plus side, the battery will be flat soon.”
    “It won’t just be the battery that’s flat if I find out who owns the blasted thing,” Jess growled. Lois giggled and stuffed the loose earphone back in her ear, the sun reflecting off the silver chain dangling from her ear-lobe. Jess moved closer to get a better look at the tiny, sparkly gemstones, suspended like droplets of rain from the end of the chain.
    “Sorry. Was there something else?” Lois removed the earphone again.
    “Lovely ear-rings.”
    “Thanks. They were a twenty-first birthday present. Aquamarine is my birthstone—oh, that reminds me. I meant to give you this earlier.” She lifted a stack of files and retrieved a small, white envelope from underneath, handing it across. Jess read the names on the front and frowned.
    “Andrew and Jessica Jeffries?”
    “It’s from…”
    “Your Uncle Rob. I know! It’s a very old and not very funny joke. He’s getting married again, is he?”
    “Not that I’m aware of.”
    “Oh.” Jess had been convinced it was a wedding invitation. “I guess I’d better open it and see what’s inside, then.”
     
    Eleanor stopped off at the supermarket on the way home, for some nappies, washing-up liquid, sterilising fluid, cotton buds and several other items that had her questioning whether her days of shopping trolleys loaded with grown-up impulse buys were gone for good. As she queued at the one checkout that was open, she passed the time examining the contents of other shoppers’ trolleys and baskets, amused by how easy it was to determine a person’s lifestyle and living situation from their selected purchases. The man right in front of her, for instance, was clearly a student, with his instant noodles, cans of beans, strawberry laces and five-pack of doughnuts, whereas in front of him was a single career woman with bags of prepared salad and vegetables, pre-cooked chicken and a lone loose apple. Currently taking up the entire length of the conveyor belt was the weekly shop of a poor young mum with her two children, one in the trolley seat biting the handle and making a ‘mam-mam-mam’ sound as she did so. She was quite cute, with her rosy cheeks and blonde spiky hair, a small bunch of it partly secured in a little pink clip on top of her head. Not so cute was her older sister, who was harassing her exhausted mother almost to death with a teary, repeated request of “Please, Mummy?”. Eleanor had all of this ahead of her and the prospect wasn’t looking so grand from her current vantage point, particularly as by the time she’d made it through the checkout, there was a queue of six more people behind her and still no sign of any assistance for the poor bloke on the till. She took her change and bags and thanked him, giving him a sympathetic smile as she departed.
    James had gone to Birmingham to collect Oliver, as per their haphazard, ‘however it suited the previous Mrs. Brown best’ custody arrangement: the summer holidays had been spent with his mother; now, with due disregard of newborn baby brothers, impending nuptials and honeymoons, Oliver was to stay with his father, to be returned a fortnight before he was due to start school, which coincided with their return from