Hiding Sparrows

2. The Bottom of the Barrel

"Robin, once you clock off can I talk to you in my office?"

The words were uttered to me by none other than my boss, the store manager, Delia Wentworth. She was a nice lady, and a good manager, but when she said those words to me, my heart sunk.

"S-sure." I stuttered, giving her a cheery smile. She just nodded and walked away.

My eyes darted to the clock. It was 3:40pm, twenty minutes to the end of my shift, and I wondered if I might be able to just 'forget' about what Delia had told me, and not show up after I finished. But I knew that would just piss her off and delay the inevitable. So, for the next twenty minutes, my thoughts ran wild. By the time I finally closed my line and put my last customer through, I was practically shaking with anxiety.

The truth was, I couldn't lose my job. It had been a pain to get, without any references or history in the area. I pretty much got it based on character alone, and when Delia asked me why I'd moved to Sydney, I'd lied from my ass and told her my nan lived here, and that I'd always wanted to live near the harbour bridge. She had laughed.

"Bit far out to consider it nearby," she had joked.

And she was right. The city was at least an hour away by train, longer if you couldn't catch the express line. And out here, the streets felt more like a country town than suburbs.

But it was quiet, and it was Sydney, and it had provided some space for me to build something for myself away from Melbourne. Away from Jack.

So much for that.

I bagged the last customer's groceries and handed them off, giving them a cheery farewell. Once they were gone, I took a deep breath and locked up the till before heading out the back.

Delia was doing paperwork as I came around, but she put the pen down when she saw me walk in. She gave me an small smile.

"What's up?" I asked, standing by the door awkwardly.

"I wanted to check in with you, Robin," she said. "Is everything okay at home? How's your nan going?"

Caught off guard, I nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine. Her hip is playing up, you know how it is, but otherwise she's alright."

The lie rolled off my tongue, and she bought it as always. Delia seemed to have a deep care for my imaginary grandmother, and on more than one occasion she'd given me something to take home to her, a nice yarn or a book of crosswords. I had told her that she liked knitting and puzzles, not incredibly original on my part, but she'd bought it. Just like she'd bought my stories about how she fell on her hip one day, which was why I was late to work.

Delia nodded, and heaved another sigh, then looked up at me. "I've got to be honest with you, Robin. I haven't been very happy with your work ethic lately. For the past week, you've been distracted and unfocused. You haven't been putting things away in the right spots, and your till's been out three times since Saturday. Frankly, I have solid grounds to fire you on."

I felt my heart sink, and tears pulled to my eyes. "Please, no. I need this job, I don't have anything else."

She was quiet for a minute before shaking her head. "I don't want to let you go, Robin, but you have to show me this is just a bad week, and that you can come back from it, alright?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "Of course, Miss, it won't happen again."

She looked at me for a moment then let out another sigh. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Robin."

I took that as my cue to leave. On my way out of the store I passed my friend Heath, who was stocking shelves and gave me a curious look.

"What was that all about?"