“Tanya?” Emily nearly dropped her tea when she spotted her ex-husbands sister dripping on her doorstep. The girl looked like shed swum there, rainwater cascading from her tangled blonde hair.
“It started bucketing down on the way over. My bags soakedmind if I come in?”
“I suppose” Emily sighed, eyeing the puddle forming on her polished oak flooring. How Tanya had even found the house was a mysterythe gated estate in Surrey wasnt exactly on the Tube line, and the walk from the main gate took ages.
“Fancy a cuppa?” Tanya smudged her mascara further while wiping her face, leaving streaks like a sad panda.
“Dry off first.” Emily thrust a roll of kitchen towel at her. The renovations had cost a fortune, and Tanyas soggy trainers were a hazard.
“Ta.”
“Right. Why are you here?”
“Im skint.”
“And thats my problem because?”
“Im not asking for money! I need a job. Any job! Your new bloke owns that posh hotel chain, yeah? Put in a word for me?”
“Got any experience?”
“Loads!” Tanya nodded eagerly. “Worked in cafés.”
“Doing what?”
“Management. Well technically I was a waitress, but I was *this close* to a promotion.”
“How long?”
“Two months. Two weeks here, a week there quit the last one yesterday. The manager was a proper nightmare.”
Emily blinked.
“You realise that makes you look *less* employable, not more?”
“Rubbish! Three different placesIm practically a veteran!”
“More like a professional quitter.”
“Well, what am I meant to do? I *need* cash!” Tanyas eyes welled up on cue.
“Why? And why London? Its pricier than your village.”
“Where else pays? Our high streets got a pub and a Greggs!”
“And where are you staying?”
“Mates sofa, then my brotherstill his new bird kicked me out. Shes a right dragon.”
“Ah.” Emilys jaw tightened at the mention of her ex.
“Hes turned proper nasty since shacking up with her. Em, please? Youre my last hope!”
“I dont workcant just magic you a job.”
“But youre his *wife*! Bat your eyelashes, yeah? Connections and all that”
“No promises. Hes abroad till weekend.”
“Cheers! Knew you werent a cow like *her*. Oh, Em, can I kip here tonight? Look at that rain!” Tanya clasped her hands like a Dickensian orphan. “No cash for the train back.”
“Howd you even get here?”
“Hitched.”
“Christ.” Emily pictured Tanya stranded on the M25 at midnight. Reluctantly, she pointed upstairs. “Guest room. *Out* by ten tomorrow.”
“Legend!” Tanya flopped onto the bed, gawping at the designer lamps and silk curtains. “*This* is the life. Em landed a sugar daddyjust need to bag one myself!”
She fantasised about swanning into boardrooms, snagging a CEO, and living happily ever after. What she *didnt* factor in was that CEOs tended to avoid teenagers whose CVs read like a list of failed trials at Wetherspoons.
Which, incidentally, was exactly what Emilys husband, James, said when he got home.
“One vacancy. Shell hate it.”
“She swears shell take anything.”
“Brilliant. Tell her 6:30 sharp tomorrow.”
Tanya rocked up at 9 a.m., blaming a “broken-down bus” (translation: snoozed her alarm). The glass-and-steel hotel HQ dazzled her. Strapping into heels she could barely walk in, she wobbled inside, dressed like shed raided a Love Island wardrobe.
The security guard blocked her. “Pass?”
“Im *important*,” she sniffed. “Youll be sacked for this!”
James walked in, took one look at her, and paled. “*Three hours late*. And *dressed* like that? You look like youre auditioning for *The Only Way Is Essex*.” He dragged her aside. “And *never* mention knowing my wife.”
“Ooh, hush-hush, is it? Fancy job via nepotism?”
“*Fancy*? Youll be scrubbing loos. Ground floorask for Margaret. Shell kit you out.”
“Uniform? *Yes*!” Tanya pictured power suits.
Margaret handed her a mop and rubber clogs.
“Waitthis is a *mistake*!”
“Today, youre cleaning floors. All five. *And* the stairs.”
Tanya stormed off, dialling Emily. “*Cleaner*?! Is this a joke?”
“You said *any* job.”
“I wont scrape gum off floors!”
“Suit yourself.” *Click*.
Fuming, Tanya kicked a doorsnapping her heel. Barefoot, she hobbled outside, where builders wolf-whistled but no millionaires pulled over in Bentleys.
Back at her brothers, she tried again. “Come on, help me out!”
“Learn a skill *first*, then try London.” *Slam*.
Defeated, Tanya slunk home to Dorset, whinging to her mate over a bag of crisps.
“Londons full of snobs.”
“Told you,” her friend nodded. “All flash, no heart.”
They clinked Diet Cokes, plotting their next doomed adventure.
