Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (classic literature list .TXT) 📗

blusher too.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And I’d recommend arnica, to help the healing.’

Amy waited in the queue, clutching her foundation, concealer, a small tub of arnica and the pale pink blusher. It sparkled like powdered gemstones under the fluorescent lights.

As Amy entered the office, she had a sudden urge to turn around and go home again. She could call in sick. Although she’d eaten nothing but a small bag of Hula Hoops once she came to last night, it wasn’t just her eye that hurt. She felt sick to her stomach.

She couldn’t skip work, she decided. In all the years Amy had been an administrator, she’d barely ever called in sick. Except for when it happened, of course, and she didn’t count that. Sometimes, perhaps she should have stayed at home. She still remembered the rather unpleasant train ride into the office the day after she’d experimented with some discounted shrimp from the station deli. That was a day that should have been spent within easier reach of a toilet.

Amy made her way to the kitchen. The smell of sour coffee from the machine was making her stomach worse, and a cup of the stuff would do her no favours. She perused the teabag selection and chose an organic-looking bag of chamomile tea.

‘Bright and early again, Amy.’ Trevor Trapper smiled at her as he came into the kitchen. He said that every morning, and had done for the past seventeen years. Amy passed him his favourite mug, a large white one that even Amy didn’t care for. It declared his support for Nottingham Forest Football Club. He took the mug then frowned. ‘Not having your usual coffee this morning?’ he asked, looking at her selection.

‘I’m feeling a little under the weather,’ replied Amy, hoping he wouldn’t notice her eye. ‘I thought a chamomile tea might be softer on the stomach.’

‘Ah, yes. You do look a little . . . Mrs Trapper swears by the stuff when it’s her time of the . . . ’ He paused and suddenly seemed very interested in the inside of his mug. ‘Let me know when the papers come in from the Apex family,’ he said, over the whirr of the coffee machine as it spat out foam for his cappuccino. ‘I’d like to deal with that estate personally.’

‘Of course, Mr Trapper,’ replied Amy.

She took her tea to her desk and settled down, the pile of post in front of her. Most of her communications were by email now, but physical documents still played a large role in this financial advice firm. She’d had the same swivel chair since she’d started here, and years of sitting in it meant the contours perfectly matched the shape of her body. She was determined not to keep any of her treasures at work, tempting as it was to make use of extra storage space. Instead she kept her desk neat, tidy and anonymous. She didn’t even have a special mug in the office, choosing whichever of the generic office mugs happened to be free. Colleagues had adorned their workstations with pictures of children, partners and holidays, but Amy didn’t have anyone to put there. Not any more. She could put a picture of Scarlett up, but she didn’t think the others would understand.

She closed her eyes, but it wasn’t Scarlett’s image that came into her vision. It was the ring again, seemingly imprinted on the insides of her eyelids. She lifted her right hand and massaged the base of her left ring finger. She felt as if there was an absence there, as though her finger missed the ring it had never worn. ‘How did it get there?’ she mused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand?’ Amy opened her eyes to see Carthika frowning at her.

‘These Apex papers,’ said Amy quickly. She must be more careful: speaking her thoughts out loud was beginning to get embarrassing.

‘No wonder you don’t understand them,’ said Carthika. ‘You haven’t even opened the envelope.’

Amy looked down. Carthika was right. A large white envelope sat in front of her, unopened.

‘How do you know it’s from Apex?’ asked Carthika. Zoe, sitting across from them, stopped typing and listened.

Amy found to her embarrassment that heat was creeping up her neck into her face. She must be blushing. And she was meant to be the head of the team – it hardly instilled confidence. She glanced down again. ‘When you’ve been working here as long as I have,’ she said, trying to will the colour from her face, ‘you start to recognise handwriting.’ The address was written in a large, clear hand, with little circles instead of dots on the i’s. She inserted her letter opener, shaped like a small dagger, opened the envelope and scowled. The documents weren’t from Apex after all. ‘Oh,’ she said to herself, and put it in the pile to be processed.

‘Maybe you’re losing your touch?’ enquired Carthika, sounding rather more amused than the situation warranted. She looked up and noticed Zoe, Emma’s replacement, staring at her.

‘You look different today,’ declared Zoe. ‘Are you wearing make-up?’

‘She is,’ agreed Carthika, as though Amy couldn’t hear them. ‘And she’s distracted.’ She paused. ‘I know! She’s got a crush!’

‘It’s probably Liam from marketing,’ agreed Zoe. ‘She likes his shiny suits.’ They both laughed.

‘It is not Liam from marketing,’ snapped Amy.

‘So it’s Tony from the post room then?’ said Carthika. ‘I knew it.’

Amy made a harrumphing noise that she hoped communicated that they’d discussed the subject long enough and it was time to get back to work. She began tapping at her keyboard in case the message was not clear. It worked. The others turned back to their own screens, still sniggering, and Amy listened to the reassuring rhythm of keys being pressed. Work being done. She breathed deeply and found her eyes closing again.

The ring floated into her vision. She’d left it at home, guarded by Scarlett, but now she wished she had it with her. She wanted to feel it. To squeeze