The Watcher

43. The Status Quo

That first visit to Gina's was stilted. It was clear that neither of us were used to company; Gina out of circumstance, and me out of choice. The second time was better, and by the third, she had biscuits waiting.

Within weeks, it had become a part of our routine. Once a week, the day before the bin men came to do their rounds, I joined her for an hour or two, and when I left, I took her bin out with me. It was never very heavy, but I still disliked the idea of her trying to navigate the spindly steps down to the alley.

I grinned as I watched Nightmare batting at the catnip toy Gina had bought her for Christmas a few days ago. She'd waved off my thanks saying she thought the 'little flea machine' might enjoy it, while taking a sip of the flavoured gin I'd bought her.

It had been over a month since the note, and with each week that had passed, the ache in my chest had lost the sharp, acidic sting of anger. Now it was something softer, like the deep permeating pain you got from pressing a bruise. It was enough to keep me from thinking about Book Boy's orders.

Sent to find her.

Normally I would have ruminated on those words for days, weeks, months. But not now. Now, they just hurt, because that niggle of needing to know was a stark reminder that I never would. I never could. Because the one person who had known the truth was gone, vanished without a trace. He'd taken those answers with him, along with something else.

I huffed as I closed my latest romance book with a snap and tossed it on the pile with the others. I hadn't finished any of them. I couldn't. It had been the same for the romantic comedies I usually binged at this time of year. The festive themed tales of one-night stands turning into fairytale romances, or unlikely couples discovering that they were in fact the perfect Christmas gift. I had lost count of how many I'd switched off in the middle of some epic declaration or swoon worthy kiss.

I couldn't wait to get back to work this afternoon. Between the obligatory holiday on Christmas and the subsequent days off Kelly dished out to everyone afterwards, I'd had enough.

Thank fuck for New Years Eve.

I knew tonight would be chaos, the absolute worst night of the entire year, but after two days of trying – and failing – to entertain myself while Emma and Callum were busy, I relished the thought of sweating through a night at the bar.

I chuckled as Nightmare pounced into the box her other gifts had come in. I hadn't spent much, but it still seemed typical cat behaviour that she'd prefer the box to the plethora of toys now strewn across the wooden floor.

As I watched her bound around the room, her pupils as wide as saucers, my eyes caught on the thick envelope that sat on the coffee table. There was no address, as usual. Instead, a perfunctory 'Merry Christmas' was written in blue ink.

I'd recognised my mother's handwriting the second I'd seen it on my doormat on Christmas Eve. It was the fifth year in a row that I'd found it there and the fourth year that it had been thrown on my coffee table unopened. I knew what was inside, or more to the point how much was inside. Not that I'd ever used any of the cash, instead I donated it each year to the local cat and dog shelter. It was enough to keep the heating on for a few months. Given that neither of my parents had been 'animal people' I took particular enjoyment in the fact they'd disapprove.

My phone buzzed against my thigh from where I'd left it on the sofa. I answered on the second ring.

"Hi Kelly."

"Hi Anna." Her voice had that light tone to it that always came with a request. "Did you have a nice Christmas?"

As the boss, she'd been off for the days between Christmas and New Years Eve, so I hadn't seen her since the staff Christmas celebration on the twenty-third. It was the first one I'd stuck around for and the sight of watching Callum parading around in an elf costume, handing out of 'festive bakes' from the local bakery had been a highlight.

I offered a vague reply to Kelly, skimming over the fact I'd spent Christmas alone as I had for the past few years. It always made people uncomfortable.

I wondered if she'd continue to make small talk or cut to the chase. I smiled as I heard her pause.

"I'm really sorry to ask but..."

"Yes," I replied, too quickly. Kelly's chuckle tickled against my ear.

"When do you think you could be here?"

I looked down at my threadbare reindeer pyjamas. "An hour?"

"Perfect," she sighed with relief.

"I'll see you soon, Kelly."

"Merry Christmas, Anna." I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Merry Christmas," I said with a smile of my own as I made my way to grab a towel from the cupboard.

With the promise of distraction, I managed to get out of the door in thirty minutes with an uncharacteristic smile on my face.

Since then, nothing had managed to wipe away my good mood. Not the slush I'd walked to work in, sliding more than stepping my way through the streets, nor the asshole who claimed I'd spilt coffee on his new camel coloured coat and berated me for five minutes. I think my inane grin had riled him further, but his wrath was quickly tempered by the free brownie Kelly offered him.

It was bliss being surrounded by people, and all the bullshit they brought with them. The perfect antidote to the void I'd been trying to fill or ignore for the past month. However, every silver lining had a cloud, and I couldn't deny that the bar had plenty of them. For weeks, that ache in my chest had burned every time I looked to the table in the centre of the bar, the one where he used to sit. In the first few days after he'd left, I'd skirted around the edge of the bar every shift, refusing to pass by it. Until eventually, Callum had rearranged the tables. He'd claimed that Kelly had asked them to do it, to open up the space to allow for more dancing over the festive period, but I saw the sympathy in their eyes. Whatever I'd shared with him and Emma at the Fire Festival had clearly struck a nerve.

I focussed on filling up the glass in front of me with soda water, while Emma recounted how her Christmas had been. She'd gotten back from visiting her family yesterday, but I wasn't surprised that she'd chosen to work this shift. New Years Eve always came with a pay bump, and she'd mentioned at the Christmas party that her rent was hiking up in January.

As Emma talked, I tried to avoid looking at the small bowl of Skittles hidden under the counter. It had been there for weeks, and despite everything I couldn't seem to empty it out. It felt too final.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Emma asked as she took the soda water from me and added it to her collection of drinks on her tray.

"It was nice, quiet but nice," I said, pulling my eyes from the Skittles to see her browns ones soften.

"Still no news from Atticus?" she murmured, and I tensed at his name. She dipped her head, fiddling with the napkins she had ready to place under the drinks as she took them to the table.

She added, "sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him."

I hadn't realised how frosty my expression had become, but as I saw her guarded smile and the way she hurried off to weave through the tables, I felt the scowl that had crept onto my face.

It only deepened as I heard the doorbell ding and saw who walked into the bar.