She reaches one hand to smooth down her bobbed hair, though it has little to no effect on the absolute chaos on her head. ‘We’ve had a request sent through for an interview with you tomorrow evening. It’s part of a local press article on the Goth Weekend.’
‘Ok,’ I say carefully. I despise journalists, as Sammi well knows, but I generally manage to suck it up for the greater good of the bar. But by the way she’s framing it, I know that’s not the end of the story.
‘With Moriarty.’
My throat tightens.
That’s not his real name. I can’t remember what he’s actually called or why we call him that, but I know that he’sa villain, through and through. I hated him on sight, though I could never put my finger on why. I slam my now-empty mug down onto the edge of a crate with more force than I intended, and it shatters into pieces.
The superhuman strength would be an asset if I had even an ounce of control over it, but unfortunately it only seems to show up at times when I’m already pissed off. Sammi, who is well used to my shit by now, barely bats an eyelid. She just levels me with a look and then starts carefully gathering shards of mug from the crate around her.
‘Sam,’ I start, moving to help her, but she waves me away.
‘You’ll only make it worse,’ she says, which is a harsh assessment, but probably a fair one. ‘And I’m sorry about the Moriarty thing. But it’s part of a wider piece, and the exposure for the bar would be phenomenal.’ Her eyes dip to meet mine. ‘You can do this. It’s half an hour of your life. Just keep your head down, and don’t let him get to you. Talk us up. Mention the open mic. Make jokes about bats, you know?’
I look up at her in horror.
‘I’m kidding,’ she deadpans, brandishing a spear of porcelain at me like it’s a weapon. ‘Definitely don’t say anything about bats.’
I want to laugh it off, but I don’t feel even remotely amused. I almost tell her that I can’t do the interview, that I’d rather we go under than I voluntarily speak to that rat, but I can’t. This bar is bigger than just me. So instead I sigh, and she takes it as agreement, her features pulling into a smile.
‘You’re the best. I’ll get it confirmed.’
I say nothing, just try not to think too much about slamming Moriarty’s smug features into a wall.
‘I can do this,’ I mutter, under my breath. ‘I’m a better person now.’
I just wish I believed that was true.
The wildlife sanctuary isn’t far out of town, set back in the rolling hills of the North York Moors. It’s a beautiful day today, and I adjust my sunglasses against the glare of the autumn sun as it picks out odd patches of purple heather still blooming against the bright green of the grass. It’s not really on-brand for me to admit this, but the sight of heather always makes my heart feel like it’s growing in my chest. It’s the sight of home.
Honestly, I didn’t love the idea of keeping up appearances at the animal shelter at first, but I’m almost here now, so I’ll have to suck it up. I mean, itwillhopefully help stop any more of those rumours from rearing their ugly heads, and if nothing else, it’s going to keep me out of the annexe for a couple of hours.
I told Lucy that I had a busy weekend, and it wasn’t a lie. The Goth Weekend is always a big deal at Bitten– it’s our biggest event of the year at the best of times and this year we’ve got something extra special planned. But I’m not due back there until this evening, and I’ll be damned if I’m spending the day aimlessly wandering the streets of Whitby to avoid mooching around the annexe like a giant, lost puppy.
But it’s all falling into place now. I’ve got this volunteering business, and then it’ll only be an hour or so until my shift. I can rock up early– I own the place, after all– and then, by the time I get back to the annexe, Lucy should be fast asleep.
Day one done. Easy.
In fact, I’m so impressed with myself that by the time I pull up to the sanctuary I’m actually smiling. I must look like I’ve lost it, but I don’t care. There’s no one here to see me anyway.
Inside the main sanctuary building, I quickly find Fiona, the contact Sammi gave me, and introduce myself. She puts me at ease immediately, which might have to do with the four hedgehog puns she slips in within the first five minutes of meeting me. It might also be because she reminds me a little of Peggy– warm and welcoming with such aggressively bright red hair that there’s a reasonable chance you’d see her from space.
She puts me to work right away– washing food and water bowls, sweeping out animal pens, lugging huge sacks of food out of storage– and I hate to admit it, but it makes the time fly. I’m aware of Fiona’s presence occasionally, as she nips in to check on me, and now and again I hear her snap a pic, which makes me smile. I’m quite sure Sammi must have asked her to take them. After all, the whole point of making amends is everyone getting to see it, right?
I’m just hoisting the last of a stack of storage boxes into the boarded loft of a shed when I hear the sound of the phone camera again, and God help me, I flex a little. Those pictures could end up anywhere, after all, and while I do want to come across as contrite, I also wouldn’t hate it if I looked my best while doing it.
But when I haul the last box up into the loft space and turn to look at Fiona, she’s not alone.
I almost swallow my tongue.
She’s not alone at all.
I haven’t seen Lucy in a couple of hours, and in that time I swear she’s become hotter.
Wait, no. That isnotwhere my brain should be going. I’ve already been through what a terrible idea that would be. She’s done me a real favour letting me stay at the cottage, and thelast thing she wants in return is me making eyes at her while I’m invading her personal space. Not to mention that if I even thought about trying anything, Mina wouldn’t just stake me through the heart, she’d make me dig my own grave first.
I’m just going to ignore the fact that I’m sure I caught Lucy’s eyes nervously flicking up to mine when I turned around. And I’m probably imagining the faint hint of a blush on her cheeks right now. What I need to do is keep my head down and finish this volunteering without incident. But there’s no reason to be rude.