Amber walked down the steps of the theatre and into the cold night air. She turned and waited for her friend Caroline to catch up to her. Most of the old London theatres had been built many years ago and then retrofitted to absorb the hundreds of theatregoers who attended each night. That meant that the small doorways and corridors had never changed, and getting out of the building after a performance was usually akin to an endurance test.
After a few moments, Caroline was ejected from the building. Somehow, she’d found herself stuck between two groups of old people who all wanted to walk together while chatting about the musical. As they exited the main doors, she pulled herself free of the crowd and rushed over to Amber.
“Wow, I thought I’d never see the outside again,” Caroline joked.
“Why do we always go to the theatre in the winter? There are so many people who don’t usually go and have no idea of theatre etiquette,” Amber complained.
“Deals.” Caroline looped her arm through Amber’s, and they started to walk up the street towards Covent Garden. “Money-off deals. We’re both poor, remember?”
“True,” Amber agreed. “I’m just fed up with sitting next to people who have brought in a paper bag of boiled sweets and proceed to rustle the bag throughout the show.”
“That’s nothing. The woman next to me had a small bottle of wine from M&S that she got out of her jacket pocket.” Caroline laughed. “Honestly, I know they struggle to fill the seats in the winter, especially at Christmas what with the pantomimes going on, but there needs to be an entrance exam before people are allowed into the theatre.”
“Agreed.” Amber chuckled. She knew to passers-by they must have sounded terribly snobby, but they weren’t as bad as all that. They had just had enough of paying eighty pounds per ticket only to have the show ruined by people with no manners.
“Obviously, we’re having a glass of wine to debrief.” Caroline led them into a busy wine bar.
It was noisy, and Amber winced at the sound of Christmas tunes and multiple conversations turning into a loud din.
“There’s an upstairs,” Caroline said, indicating a metal staircase with a nod.
Amber gestured for her to lead the way. They cut through the crowd and up the stairs. It was already much quieter on this top floor, but Caroline continued walking into another room. Finally, the ambient sound was at a level Amber could cope with.
“This is nice,” she admitted as she scoped out the location.
“Local knowledge.” Caroline tapped the side of her head with a finger.
They started to remove their coats and winter wear at a booth with a window that overlooked the busy street below.
“Being a lush,” Amber corrected with a wink.
“Rude. And, for that, you can buy me a drink.” Caroline plopped herself down on the leather bench.
Amber grabbed her purse out of her bag and went over to the quiet upstairs bar. She was thankful for Caroline’s local knowledge. Otherwise she’d never have stepped foot in the busy bar. Even if the knowledge was gathered from many, many nights out on the town.
Of course, Amber went out drinking with friends more often than she probably should have, but that was the way in London. Britain had a pub and bar culture like no other country, and the millions of workers in London embraced the lifestyle morning, noon, and night.
She was served quickly and took two glasses of red wine back to the table.
“By the way, I’m not going to be able to come to your work Christmas party after all,” Amber apologised as she sat down.
“Oh?” Caroline took a sip of wine.
“Yeah, work thing.”
Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Nope.”
Amber tried to keep her expression neutral but felt panicked. Caroline always did this. Somehow, she could read exactly when Amber was trying to hide something.
“Sorry?” she asked.
“You’re lying to me. If it was a work thing then you would have complained about it the moment I saw you after work. You would have been all, ‘That bitch Bronwyn is making me work,’ but you didn’t do that. You’ve left it to the very last moments of the evening, which means you’re trying to hide something.”
Amber took a sip of wine before pushing her glass to one side.
“Okay, you’re right… I just know you’re going to tell me I’m being crazy.”
Caroline looked positively gleeful. “Spill.”
Thankfully, Caroline already knew that her employment was hanging by a thread and that she desperately needed to keep her job. Amber took a deep breath and quickly summarised the situation. She talked about going to see Emilia, their weird meeting in the bakery. Then she explained Emilia’s desire to get to know people she planned to do business with, and her agreement to go and visit her again.
Caroline swirled her wine silently for a few moments. “So… you’re going to Sweden to stay in some recluse’s barn for a week?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Amber argued.
“Thousands would,” Caroline said. “Are you insane? You don’t know this woman at all except to know that she lives off the grid. Come on, Amber. The very phrase ‘off the grid’ was invented to describe those nutcases in movies who murder people.”
“She doesn’t seem like that, she seems nice.”
“Oh, good. Okay, you have my blessing.” Caroline snorted a laugh. “I’ll tell the police, ‘She said that she seemed nice… How many pieces did you find her body in, officer?’”
Amber leaned back on the bench. “Maybe she is a murderer, maybe she isn’t. I don’t have much choice in the matter. I have to go, Bronwyn thinks I’m close to signing a deal. I’ll never sign a deal unless I go back to Sweden. And if I don’t sign a deal, I’ll lose my job.”
“You’re going to lose your job anyway,” Caroline reminded her.
“Yes, but this way I don’t lose my job until next year. No one is hiring now. I need to wait until the middle of January when new jobs are being advertised and I can apply for interviews and stuff. If I’m fired now, there is zero chance of me getting a job between now and then.” Amber took a hefty swig of wine.
Caroline regarded her for a moment. “Well, being out of the country for a week should save you from being fired, but you either need to come back with a signed contract or hope that Bronwyn will believe you if you lie about it to survive Christmas and New Year. Of course, this is all theoretical, as Recluse Lady may kill you in your sleep.”
Amber shivered. She wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with the idea of living in Emilia’s guesthouse as it was. She didn’t know the woman at all. She’d seemed okay during their short meeting, but that didn’t mean Amber wanted to go and stay with her for any period of time. What I do for my career, she thought solemnly.
“I just need to convince Emilia that I’m the right person to work with. That I’ll take care of her grandmother’s books and legacy. If I can do that, she will sign the contract and everything will be fine.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Caroline asked.
“No idea. She seems to like walks, the countryside, not talking to people, books, and her house.” Amber listed the woman’s hobbies on her fingers.
“Well, you like books,” Caroline said, “but the others… yeah, you’re total opposites.”
“I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
“Possibly. Unless you somehow manage to convince her that business isn’t evil and you’re the right person to work with. Which, considering what you just said, is unlikely. If I were you, I’d just enjoy a week in Sweden. Think of it as a holiday. Maybe work on your LinkedIn profile while you’re there. You know, by candlelight. With a quill.”
Amber made a face at her. “She’s a recluse, but I’m pretty sure she has electricity.”
“Do you know that?” Caroline asked.
Amber opened her mouth and then closed it again. She didn’t know that, but she hoped it was the case.
“Did you ask if she has running water?” Caroline giggled.
“She must do, she offered to cook dinner tomorrow when I arrive. You need water to cook a meal,” Amber said.
“Unless she’s foraged for nuts and berries.” Caroline smirked as she took another sip of wine.
“I don’t know why I talk to you.” Amber shook her head.
“You like me,” Caroline said assuredly. “And I like you. Which is a shame, I’ll miss you when you’ve been murdered. Can I sing at your funeral?”
Amber couldn’t help but laugh.
“Sure, why not?”