Take A Bite!
How could Gemma have mixed up the lunchboxes?
GEMMA hadn’t eaten any breakfast. It was her first day at her new job and she felt too nervous to eat.
To make up for it, Gemma’s mum had packed her lunchbox with her favourite cheese and coleslaw sandwiches and popped cookies in her bag as a mid-morning snack.
Gemma was dressed very smartly in a navy skirt and cream blouse, because that’s how she imagined a trainee legal secretary working for a prestigious law firm would dress.
When she arrived, she feared she looked almost too smart.
At least Annie, who had the desk next to hers in the fourth floor, open-plan office was smiley and welcoming, if harassed.
“I’m supposed to show you around,” Annie said. “Follow me.”
Annie gave her a whistlestop tour of the office, pausing to introduce her to her new colleagues, although Gemma feared she wouldn’t be able to remember their names.
She showed her the kitchen, explaining that staff either ate in there, at their desks or down in the courtyard on a fine day.
“Can I put my lunchbox in the fridge?” Gemma asked.
“Of course.” Annie opened the fridge door.
Its contents were in quite a muddle.
“It’s due a clear-out soon,” she admitted, as Gemma stashed her blue lunchbox in a small space on one of the middle shelves.
Coming out of the kitchen, they encountered a formidable-looking woman wearing bright red lipstick. “Oh, here you are.”
The woman looked at Gemma over the top of her glasses.
She sounded greatly inconvenienced.
“Geraldine, I was giving Gemma the grand tour,” Annie explained.
“There’s photocopying to do, so don’t be long,” the woman said.
She walked past and Annie blew a breath, stirring her fringe.
“She’s the office manager,” Annie whispered. “I think she was on holiday the day of your interview, or you’d have met already.
“Anyway, watch out – it’s a red lipstick day.”
“Red lipstick day?” Gemma queried.
“She takes no prisoners on a red lipstick day,” Annie explained. “You’d better start that photocopying.”
Gemma felt Geraldine’s eye upon her all morning, watching from the end of the office like a hawk.
Not knowing her way about yet, Gemma felt slow and clumsy.
She delivered documents to the wrong people and dropped a stapler, which broke.
It didn’t help that she was soon ravenous.
She wolfed the cookies with her mug of coffee at 10, but her nervous energy seemed to be ripping through the calories.
As the hands on the clock neared midday, she couldn’t keep her mind off her sandwiches.
Just before 12, she was handed another document to photocopy, and while her colleagues headed down to the courtyard, she was left alone in the office.
It didn’t take long to complete the task, and then she rushed to the fridge and grabbed her lunchbox.
She was hoping to start getting to know her colleagues better in a more relaxed environment.
Even so, her stomach was rumbling, and she felt she had to eat something before heading down to the courtyard in the lift.
She took the lid off the blue lunchbox and dived in, taking a big bite out of her sandwich. Something was wrong. Surely it wasn’t cheese she was tasting, but egg mayonnaise?
In slow, dawning horror, Gemma looked at the lunchbox.
It was identical to hers, except for a small, neat sticker on its lid, saying “Geraldine Fawkes”.
She spotted her own lunchbox, which had been shoved further back on the same shelf.
Gemma had just bitten into the terrifying office manager’s sandwich.
And on an infamous red lipstick day, to boot.
What on earth was she going to do?
Geraldine was in a meeting, but it would be over soon, and she would come for her lunch.
Desperate, Gemma took a knife and cut off the bitten section of the sandwich, then put it back in the lunchbox and closed the lid.
She replaced it in the fridge, removing her own lunchbox, which she’d hide in her bag straight away because she’d just lost her appetite again.
But that was no good. Geraldine was bound to notice she had only one half of that sandwich remaining.
There’d be an inquiry and Annie might reveal that Gemma’s lunchbox looked the same as Geraldine’s.
What had her mum always told her? That it was better to tell the truth.
That’s what she had to do, no matter how painful.
She’d spotted a small supermarket across from the office, the kind that sold packets of sandwiches.
If Gemma rushed, she might be able to get there and back before Geraldine’s meeting ended.
At her desk, she wrote a message on a sticky note: I am so sorry, Geraldine. I ate some of your sandwich by mistake
because our lunchboxes look similar.
I am going to buy you another packet of sandwiches straight away. Gemma.
Gemma fixed the sticky note to Geraldine’s lunchbox, replaced it in the fridge, grabbed her bag and headed for the lift.
She was on tenterhooks, waiting for the crossing light to turn green.
When it did, she bolted across to the supermarket.
There were packets of egg sandwiches on sale, but they contained cress.
What if Geraldine hated cress?
There was no alternative, so Gemma paid for the sandwiches and headed back to the office.
She arrived in the kitchen just as Geraldine was reading the note.
Her lunchbox was lying on the counter, and she’d already taken the lid off.
Geraldine opened her mouth at the sight of Gemma holding the packet of sandwiches.
Gemma opened her mouth to apologise again but couldn’t get a word out.
Geraldine looked back at the note and, to Gemma’s relief, smiled.
“Of all the qualities I value in the people I work with, honesty is the one I value most,” she said.
When she reached and took the sandwiches Gemma was offering, her smile broadened.
Gemma was encouraged to say something at last.
“I was afraid you might not like cress?”
“I love cress,” Geraldine said. “If I’d had some at home, I would have put it in the sandwiches I made.
“Now, why don’t you grab your lunch and let’s head down to the courtyard.
“It’ll give me the chance to introduce you to people properly.”
Gemma felt her appetite return as she accompanied the manager to the lift.
Even if it was a red lipstick day, Geraldine had a lovely smile.
BUSY today, isn’t it?” library manager Polly’s eyes twinkled as she helped Max set up for Robot Club. It was the Easter holidays, and they had a busy week of events planned.
Glancing around the library at the many parents and carers accompanying the robot builders, Polly knew she was right.
“You’ll be fine.” Polly tried not to laugh at Max’s face. “Just open the boxes, pull out the instructions and build the robots. “Robot Club is fun. Good luck.”
Polly winked at Max and rushed to the self-checkout machine to show another new borrower how to process their books.
Since ex-firefighter Max had stepped in to read at Toddler Storytime, there’d been a steady stream of new library members.
It was no coincidence; Max was easy on the eye.
Polly had guessed Max would be an asset to the library, and all she had to do now was convince him she was right.
Max opened the packs containing the robots and stared at the muddle of parts.
A dozen primary-age children clustered around the table, waiting eagerly.
Almost double the number of adults gathered around them, watching. Sweat trickled down his forehead. During the first weeks of his retirement from the fire service, Max had felt lost.
He’d finally started renovating his old VW campervan, but otherwise, he was at a loose end.
And that’s when Polly had signed him up as a library volunteer.
What had started as two afternoons a week was now verging on full-time.
Polly was running rings around him. First Toddler Storytime and now this.
He didn’t know anything about robots. Luckily, eight-year-old Noah knew enough for both of them.
“It’s easy,” Noah said. “Want me to show everyone?”
Max nodded and stepped aside. “This is amazing.” Noah’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe next time we could try something more difficult?”
Max swallowed, hearing the murmurs of agreement.
Despite not having his own, he’d always thought he was good with children.
But today he was in over his head.
“It’s going well,” Polly said an hour later. “I knew you were the man for the job.”
“I’m glad Noah’s here.” Max wiped his brow. “He’s saving my bacon.”
The rest of Robot Club flew by. Noah was brilliant and Max was happy to let him help.
Max chatted to everyone, all the while hoping to talk with Noah and Ava’s childminder Lucy.
They’d never spoken, but Max felt a unique pull towards her.
It was most confusing – and strange. She seemed to be circulating and speaking to everyone except him.
He even began to wonder if she was dodging him.
“What a brilliant afternoon,” library assistant Josh said, coming to help. Max didn’t answer.
He was still trying to return the different robot parts to their boxes.
Noah had promised to help at the next session.
Only, just in case, Max wanted all the correct robot bits back in the right boxes alongside the matching instructions.
“Robot Club had a record attendance,” Josh continued. “HQ will be impressed. “I wonder why it was so busy?” “Weird,” Max said. “Maybe they’ve been studying robots at school?
“The footfall’s good, too. Let’s hope the rest of the Easter holidays are as busy.” “I hope so,” Josh said. “I’m worried. “We never used to have to count and report everything.
“Apparently, two libraries closed the last time it got like this.”
Max tried to think of something positive to say but suspected Josh was right.
When this had happened at the fire station, things had been rationalised.
Max was beginning to love the library and felt passionate about what it offered.
Should they be worried about the future of their little local library?
MORE NEXT WEEK
FROM the Shetland Islands in the north to Dumfries and Galloway in the south, and the Western Isles to the east coast Granite City of Aberdeen, there can scarcely be an acre of Scotland that has not inspired an author to put pen to paper. So sit back, put your feet up and let’s discover more . . .
The Ninth Child
Sally Magnusson
Cutting-edge Victorian engineering meets folklore, superstition and the supernatural in this thrilling story set in the Trossachs and Loch Katrine during the building of Glasgow’s water supply system in the 1850s. This is the second novel from the well-known writer, journalist and broadcaster and is a spine-tingling page-turner.
The Game Of Kings
Dorothy Dunnett
The Edinburgh-born novelist famously started writing when she ran out of books she wanted to read. Her six-book series charting the fortunes of hero Francis Crawford of Lymond during the reign of Mary, Queen of Scots is among the best historical fiction ever written and takes in locations from the Lake of Menteith to Falkland, Linlithgow and more.