Read Chapter 7: — FIRST DAY

Eleanor wore heels because she had forgotten what working women actually wore on commuter trains.

By the time she reached York station she had already regretted the choice.

Halfway to the hotel, distracted by the time, she caught one heel on a low stone edge and fell hard.

Her knee tore through her tights. Her ankle twisted. One shoe heel snapped clean off.

She sat on the pavement, furious.

Then she took the other shoe and tried to break its heel against the kerb.

“Eleanor Ward?”

She looked up.

Adrian Cole stood two metres away, watching his new employee attack a shoe with architectural determination.

“Mr Cole.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

He glanced at the blood on her knee.

“That answer lacks credibility.”

Eleanor held out the intact shoe without thinking.

Adrian stared at it.

“Oh,” she said. “I thought you meant—”

He took the shoe, struck the heel once against the stone and handed it back, now equally flat.

“Problem partially solved.”

Despite herself, she laughed.

Inside the hotel, Eleanor changed into uniform and met her team leader, Hannah, a cheerful former cabin crew member, and the restaurant manager, Sophie Kent, who had trained in Switzerland and regarded creased fabric as a moral failure.

Adrian sent antiseptic, dressings and painkillers down through the porter.

Hannah raised both eyebrows.

“First morning and the boss is sending you a care package.”

“He watched me assault a shoe.”

“Strong beginning.”

Lunch service was a blur of plates, table numbers and fear.

Eleanor discovered that carrying three dishes was more difficult than receiving three dishes. She discovered guests asked questions while she was concentrating on not dropping soup. She discovered smiling for hours used muscles nobody mentioned in health advice.

At the end of the shift, she was exhausted and exhilarated.

She had worked.

Not helped. Not managed a household. Not supported somebody else's ambition.

Worked.

When she collected Lily, Arthur was tapping a rhythm on four small tumblers arranged between his fingers while Lily watched.

“Again!” Lily demanded.

Arthur saw Eleanor and stopped.

“How was the grand career?” he asked.

“I survived.”

“Low standard.”

“It's day one.”

Margaret called from the kitchen, “Ignore him. He's been asking what time you finish since lunch.”

Arthur frowned.

Eleanor smiled.

It was not reconciliation.

But it was a crack in the wall.