Free Dreams to Sell by Anne Douglas Page A

Roz – we’re away. Just came to say goodbye.’
    â€˜But we don’t want to!’ cried Joan. ‘Oh, it’s too sad.’
    â€˜My thoughts exactly,’ Mr MacKenna said gently. ‘Ah, how hard it is to find the words, eh? But you know already what I want to say, don’t you? Now I’ll wish you all the best for the future, and I’m certain it’ll be a good one. You’ll do well, Roz, never fear, and remember, I meant what I said about Aberdeen.’
    â€˜Look us up, any time!’ cried Joan.
    They shook hands, all three, and there was even an embrace from Joan, but Roz, not trusting herself to speak, could only smile and watch as others gathered round for the last goodbyes and waves at Tarrel’s fine old door where Joan had parked the family car.
    â€˜No more dear old Hillman!’ cried Mr MacKenna, taking the driving seat. ‘Best of luck with that, Mr Shield – treat her well and you’ll have no trouble.’
    â€˜Come on, dear,’ ordered Joan. ‘Don’t keep everyone waiting.’
    And as they all waved again, the MacKennas’ car moved slowly away down Queen Street, then put on a little speed, turned a corner and was gone.
    â€˜What a shame, eh?’ said Norma as people moved back into the building. ‘And it was all so nice and friendly at the drinks, eh? Did you ever hear so many first names, then? Now, I suppose it’ll be “Miss Ward, will you clear away the glasses?”’
    Roz made no reply, but feeling a touch on her arm, heard someone say, ‘See you tomorrow, Miss Rainey.’
    â€˜Oh, yes, Mr Shield,’ she answered. ‘Tomorrow.’

Sixteen
    For the first day of the property department’s new regime with Mr Shield in charge, Roz decided to wear something different. The weather was warm; she no longer needed her jacket, and for that first morning substituted it with a deep blue cardigan, a blue blouse that matched and a pretty, patterned scarf, borrowed from her mother.
    â€˜Not bad,’ she decided, studying herself in the bedroom mirror, but as she left for work on Day One, her main interest was not how she looked, but whether or not she would arrive at the property department before Mr Shield. It would give her confidence to arrive before him, that was the thing – it would underline that she came to work on time and was there when he arrived, ready to assist and show him what she knew. Also, it would give her the chance to get used to seeing the office without Mr MacKenna.
    Too late. Mr Shield was already in the office when she arrived, sitting, working, at Mr MacKenna’s desk. Oh, wouldn’t he be? The advantage she’d thought to gain by being there before him was not going to happen, and all she could do was return his smile and echo his ‘Good morning’ as she put the post on his desk, just as she’d done for Mr MacKenna.
    â€˜Miss Rainey!’ He rose to shake her hand, his eyes lighting up as they rested on her. ‘Nice to see you. I’m just frantically reading the notes Mr MacKenna kindly left me – with any luck, I won’t have to ring him up for an hour or two!’
    He laughed and seemed at ease, wearing this first morning a casual tweed suit, though she couldn’t help noticing that the collar of his shirt was not very well ironed and that his thick hair was looking just a little unruly. He was not as well-turned-out as she’d seen him before. Was he not, after all, quite so much at ease as he was trying to appear? Was he even … rather nervous?
    Immediately – and she felt a little ashamed about it – she warmed to him, feeling that he was just like other people – well, her, anyway – and not the wonderfully efficient new broom he might want folk to think him. This really was someone she could help.
    â€˜Mr Shield, I’ll just sort the post for you, shall I? I usually did that for Mr