It’s mid morning in the Help the Aged charity shop and the store is quiet, except for one or two shoppers making diligent searches of the rails. Faye has been out the back, sorting through the latest batch of donations. Donated clothing and bric-a-brac have been dwindling lately and she’s had to discard much more than she did when she first became the manager of the shop.

She pulls the curtain and goes into the sales area. Melissa is on the till today. She’s a smiley, willing volunteer who enjoys interacting with the shoppers but needs a lot of support with practicalities.

‘Melissa, it’s time you had a break. Go and make a coffee and I’ll take over for a bit.’ The young woman smiles and goes out to the back. Faye settles on the bar stool and casts an eye over the shop, wondering whether the window displays should change now, to reflect the change of season. Perhaps an autumn theme with brown, orange and yellow hues is in order? She’s found herself enjoying this lowly, managerial role with a small wage during the six months since she was appointed.

The door opens and a woman enters. Faye stares. Can it really be her? Looking older, yes, hair longer and un-styled; wearing jeans. Jeans? Faye never once saw Selena in jeans, not on training days, never on social occasions, not even on a company fund-raising day. Her ex boss hasn’t looked up yet, hasn’t spotted her. Faye watches her progress along the rails, thinking, remembering.

In her lunch hour, Faye carried the cardboard box of her belongings down to the car park and put it into the boot of her battered Ford Fiesta. In truth, there weren’t many things to take home; her favourite pen, a couple of best wishes cards from colleagues, her bone china mug from the kitchen and the photo of her kids. As she’d packed the items, Faye couldn’t help thinking it was precious little to show for the twelve years she’d worked here.

To get downstairs she’d had to use the corridor outside Selena’s office, the door of which was almost always open. She’d had to scoot past without looking, hoping that Selena would be too engrossed in something on the computer to notice her. They’d said everything they had to say, now, hadn’t they?

She went back upstairs and glanced quickly in at Selena as she padded along the corridor but the room was empty. Back at her desk, opposite Frank, she sank down and took her sandwich out of her bag. There were few in this lunchtime, most preferring to get off the premises for a break in the middle of the day.

‘Why are you hanging about, Faye?’ her friend Orla called from across the office. ‘you should get going and make the most of the afternoon. Hit the shops! Go for a walk! Curl up with a magazine! Get your nails done!’

Faye smiled. ‘I’m not going to be short of time now, am I?’

Orla came across and handed her a coffee, pulling up a seat beside her. She was her closest friend at work, nowadays. They laughed at the same things, shared good and bad news.

‘Still nothing on the job front?’

‘Not unless I want to work in the Amazon warehouse or make deliveries. It may come to that.’

The afternoon passed slowly, Faye idly searching agency jobs. The events of the last weeks still hurt. The announcement of the ‘reorganisation and restructuring’, the revelation about staffing levels needing to be cut, the anxiety inducing wait to see who was to go, the afternoon she’d been summoned to be told it was to be her, one of the oldest, Experience counted for mothing.

Selena had arrived only a couple of years ago, replacing Jan, who’d been a great friend to Faye but had moved onwards and upwards into a promotion many miles away. Selena wasn’t fond of those who’d been friendly with her predecessor, finding fault with small tasks and making snide remarks over trivial issues. She wasn’t a glamourous woman but most office staff were aware she was sleeping with the director, Lance, who was married with teenaged children. The general feeling seemed to be that the affair was mystifying, as while Selena was expensively dressed and coiffed, she was plain to the point of frumpy.

Faye looked at her watch. In five minutes she was due in for her exit interview. Should she remain mute? Should she speak her mind? She still had no idea what her manager would say, what she, Faye would say. She’d thought about it, awake at night, all the things she’d like to say to Selena. How she’d been picky, never complimentary, stared at them, she and Orla, when they’d laughed at something. Maybe she thought they were laughing at her? Sometimes they were.

Time was up. She walked along to Selena’s small office and through the open door.

‘Take a seat’ the woman ordered, unsmiling.

Faye sat. What did anything matter now? The ideal thing was to get out as soon as possible. Selena asked her if she’d had any interviews, got anywhere with her job search.

‘No.’ Faye shrugged. Selena droned on about CVs and references and was there anything else they could do?

‘No. There was a pause.

‘OK. So I wonder, is there anything about the running of this place you think might be improved. We’d really value your input.’

Faye sat up, stared at the woman across the desk. A small bubble of laughter threatened to escape, then Faye let it out in a guffaw.

‘No you don’t!.’ she gasped, wiping her eyes, and she stood, turned and walked out of the room. Ay the bottom of the stairs she stopped for a moment to look at her photo on the personnel board, then reached up and took it down, leaving a pale rectangle where it had been. She pushed the photo into her bag and marched with a jaunty step across to her car.

She’s smiling when Selena finally looks up from the bargain rail and spots her. She looks shocked, drawn. The dress she’d been holding up against her was shoved back on to the rail before she turned and rushed through the shop, head down, out of the door and away as fast as her legs could go.

Faye is still smiling when she gets home, a warm bubble encasing her. She can’t wait to tell Orla, who had been next on the redundancy list.

How the mighty are fallen…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com