Kiss My Name Page 7

  “What? Why would you want to do that?”

  “I bought a scratch card on my lunch, Flo. It’s come in! I’ve just gone and won us one hundred grand! Where shall we go, Flo? Australia, America, Skegness, anywhere you like, Flo, it’s on me!”

  “Skegness then.”

  “Seriously, you just want to go to Skegness? Anyway, it looks like Mr.Brazier’s just finishing off his telephone call, I’ll be going in, in a sec. I’m not going to tell him why I’m leaving. I’m just going to tell him to stick it! I’ve never liked him. He’s always shaking his head when my boyfriends come in.”

  “Zara,” I shouted down the phone, “don’t go anywhere. Stay right where you are. Do not go into that office!”

  “That’s £4.20 please, love!” said the Greggs lady handing me a plastic bag with my hot food in and a separate white box for the cakes.

  I handed her fiver.

  “Keep the change!”

  Eighty pence would have bought me another cake on the way home, but this was an emergency. I ran, well waddled quickly back towards Penny Pinchers. Despite the fact that Zara sounded totally convinced that she was the proud winner of one hundred grand, I was equally convinced that she had not won. I knew her better than she knew herself. I knew she would have inadvertently done something stupid, like scratched out the bit that says, ‘card void if you scratch here’. She was about to do something else stupid too. Offend the only boss in Chorley desperate enough to employ her. Not that Zara wasn’t a good employee, but times were tough, still are tough, and jobs in retail are scarce.

  The more I thought Zara’s situation through, the more I realised I needed to get back to Penny Pinchers before it was too late. My waddle soon became a desperate run. There were breasts and bellies bouncing everywhere. I didn’t move very quickly as this was the first time I had broken into a run since P.E at school but the effort was there. I needed to keep Zara in that job for her sake and for mine, the job was mundane and monotonous as things stood, it would be murder without Zara. I really hoped that I was wrong, that she really had won one hundred thousand pounds, that would just be fantastic, but realistically I knew there was more chance of me riding the Grand National winner. Zara was the type of girl who chased dreams, not the type of girl whose dreams came true.

  ZARA – May 2011

  I had never liked Mr.Brazier. He is one of those men that make women feel uncomfortable. The type you wouldn’t want to be trapped in a lift with. A member of the wandering hands brigade. Mr.Brazier is a letch.

  On the day of our Christmas party last year, Mr.Brazier disappeared at lunchtime with a few of his cronies, store managers from other shops around Chorley and his hour’s lunch must have lasted near enough the whole afternoon. He arrived back at about half past four stinking of whiskey. We had all arranged to go straight out after work, but by the time we had closed up, he was already slurring and before we’d even had our starters at Parmesan & Pepper, he was off his face.

  Mr.Brazier made sure I was sitting next to him at the table and he kept trying to bring the conversation around to my sex life and whether I was single, whilst I kept trying to talk about his family and what his kids were getting for Christmas. When he knew everyone else was too busy gabbing to notice, he ran his hand between my knee and my thigh, a couple of times, to see how I responded. The first time I thought he may have done it by accident, but when he did it again, I just realised he was just a drunken, dirty pervert.

  “You live alone, don’t you, Zara?” he asked me with a disturbingly creepy smile.

  I looked over at Flo to see if she would notice I needed help, but she was too busy stuffing her face with tomato garlic bread to notice initially. When she did catch my eye, I discreetly pointed at Mr.Brazier and mouthed ‘Perv’.

  She nodded and mouthed back, ‘Wanker’, and did the wanker sign too. Mr.Brazier was too drunk to notice, all he was concentrating on was me.

  “Zara?” he asked.

  “What?” I answered a little frostily.

  “You live alone, don’t you, Zara?” he repeated.

  “Why?”

  “I’m looking for somewhere to crash tonight and was thinking if I stopped at yours it could be mutually beneficial.”

  “It could be what?”

  “Mutually beneficial.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Good for us both.”

  “Oh, right. I’m staying at my Mum’s tonight,” I lied.

  Mr.Brazier had the cheek to run his hand up my leg again. This time he took it high enough to reach the elastic on my new Victoria’s Secret knickers which had cost me a bloody fortune. He didn’t remove it either, just left it there suggestively.

  “Maybe you want to ring your Mum and tell her that you’ve had a change of heart. I’ll be looking for a new Assistant Manager in the New Year and this might be the perfect opportunity to talk it through.”

  I gave him a look. Not a ‘that would be lovely’ look either. More of a ‘I’m going to slap your ugly, wrinkled face in a minute’ look. I was used to dealing with groping men though. I discreetly whispered into his ear.

  “Mr.Brazier, I’d take your hand off my new knickers or your garlic dough balls won’t be the only balls you’ll be eating for your starters.”

  “Come off it, Zara, you love it! You don’t wear a dress as short as yours unless you want to attract male attention.”

  “Male attention, maybe. Attention from an old fossil like you? No, thank you. I’d rather crap in my own hands and clap.”

  “Old fossil! I’m thirty seven!”

  “Exactly. Old fossil. Take your hand off my knickers now please, Mr.Brazier. I’m quite happy to cause a scene and I’m also quite happy to ring Head Office first thing on Monday morning. I’m sure they would take a sexual harassment complaint very seriously.”

  “Bloody hell, Zara, lighten up! Where’s your sense of humour? I was only winding you up, love. Come on, it’s Christmas!”

  “Flo,” I shouted over, “I need to go to the loo. Will you come with me, please?”

  Flo and I went to the toilet and when we came back, we swopped seats. He wouldn’t dare make a move on her. Mr.Brazier was not completely deterred though. He just moved his attention to poor Sylvia Gregson. Sylvia had had a tough time, her husband had left her for a younger woman during the summer and with three teenage kids, she didn’t get out much. Sylvia, bless her, was probably a little flattered by the male attention, even if it was only Mr.Brazier. Later, when we were at Applejax’s, she was bouncing up and down on his lap like a cowgirl at a rodeo. God, I hope I’m never that desperate.

  Mr.Brazier did not make sexual advances towards me again after that Christmas night out and not surprisingly, I wasn’t shortlisted for the Assistant Manager’s role either. Sylvia Gregson was handed that position. A reward for services rendered. Mr.Brazier did, however, take great pleasure in making my romantic life difficult. If any of my boyfriends ever came into Penny Pinchers to meet me, either for lunch or after work, he’d always make some sort of snide comment. The most regular one was,

  “Oh, yet another new bloke to stir the porridge, eh, Zara?”

  I had absolutely no idea what he meant by this. I knew it was some sort of sexual reference so presumed he meant that the boyfriends would be making their breakfast at mine the following morning. Flo explained it though. I was disgusted, what a creep that man is! I just hoped one day I would get the opportunity to tell him exactly what I really thought of him.

  My opportunity to reveal my true, negative, feelings to Mr.Brazier arrived sooner that I could ever have imagined. I was on twelve o’clock lunch one day and after zooming through my tuna mayonnaise salad in about two minutes in the staff kitchen, I decided to go and have a wander around town. I nipped into WH Smith’s to buy a Lotto lucky dip and for some strange reason, don’t ask me why, I felt an urge to buy a scratch card too. It was a two quid one and after reading the rules, I scratched off the amounts of the prizes. If you are ever
going to win on one of those things, you expect it to be one of the lower prizes, so once the puzzles for the £2, £5 and £10 had not proved to be winners, I scratched the £100 000 off without even the faintest glimmer of hope. I looked at it, then looked again.

  “Surely not”, I thought, “surely not!”

  I stared at it in disbelief. I’d only gone and bloody won! Not just a small prize either, the top banana, one hundred thousand pounds. OH-MY-GOD!

  I ran skipping back to Penny Pinchers. There were two things that I needed to do. Firstly, I needed to tell Mr.Brazier that I hated him and the crappy job and now that I was a rich, young lady, I’d be leaving. Secondly, I needed to tell Flo, if I was one hundred thousand pounds richer, then we had money for the first time in our lives. Flo didn’t need to stay at Penny Pinchers either. In my mind, half the money was hers.

  Once I was back at Penny Pinchers, I strode purposefully through the store, pitying Sylvia and Dot on the counter, who would probably be stuck in that dead end job for a lifetime. Flo was there too, I would probably have told her there and then, but she was having a chat to one of our daily shoppers, Mrs.Stranks, who always came in for her four pints of milk for her cats. The excitement was too much for my bladder too, I had to go to the staff loos before seeing Mr.Brazier, no point embarrassing myself by peeing my pants. Whilst on the loo, I just held the winning ticket in front of my eyes, £100 000, I was trying to work out how long I would have to work at Penny Pinchers to earn that if I earned £8 500 a year. I couldn’t work it out, I never was good at Maths at school, but guessed it was ages.

  After my piddle stop, I put some more make-up on. I wanted to look my best when I went to see Mr.Brazier, as the better I looked, the more confident I would feel. I applied the perfect lipstick, a sultry deep red. Tingling with excitement, I headed over to his office.

  When I arrived at Mr.Brazier’s door, it was open but he was stood behind his desk, on the phone, ordering stock from Head Office, so he signalled for me to wait outside. I could tell he was going to be a while, as he was chatting flirtatiously with the lady on the other end of the line. I had time to kill. I looked at my watch and it was now well past one, Flo would have left Penny Pinchers for her lunch, I decided to ring her to tell her our news.

  Typically, Flo was in one of the pie shops when she answered the call and with being outside Mr.Brazier’s door, I had to whisper too, so I’m not exactly sure what parts of our conversation she actually heard. I just remember telling her that I’d won one hundred thousand pounds, she could go anywhere on holiday that she liked and I am sure she opted for Skegness. We are so different in many ways, but so alike in others, holiday destinations being one of the similarities. Anyway, after she said Skegness, Mr.Brazier’s phone call finished and he beckoned me in, so I said a hurried goodbye.

  The first thing I noticed about Mr.Brazier’s office was that he had loads of family photos up. I had been in there many times before, but I suppose every time previously had been before Christmas, so the photos were saying something different to me now.

  ‘This is the wife I cheat on whenever possible’ and ‘these are the kids who I am going to see one weekend a fortnight once my wife discovers that I have a wandering eye’, were the two central themes. I reckon married men who sleep around are either very arrogant or very unhappy or both, but the family photos seemed to show Mr.Brazier was just arrogant.

  “Miss Phillips, please come in and make yourself comfortable. What can I do for you, young lady?”

  Mr.Brazier was always calling me Miss Phillips. At first, I thought he must have just mixed up my surname with someone else’s, but then Flo explained it was because of the showjumping, Royal Zara. I asked Flo if that is why Mr.Brazier said things to me like,

  “You like a good jump, don’t you, Zara?” and “You’re always up for a ride, Zara!”

  Flo said it probably was because of the Royal Zara which made me laugh, as I’d always presumed he was talking about sex! Easy mistake to make though, as whenever I was around, Mr.Brazier always seemed to be talking about sex.

  I took a seat on the opposing side of the desk to Mr.Brazier, who sat down too. I had never felt more ready to deal with him. I cleared my throat.

  “Mr.Brazier, do you like me?”

  Mr.Brazier sort of closed one eye and twitched a little, a bit like that bloke who hated Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther films

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘like you’, Zara?”

  “Fancy me.”

  “No, of course I don’t! Why are you asking me such a ridiculous question? You are just a valued member of my staff. If managing Penny Pinchers is like having a cup of tea, you, Zara, are my two teaspoons of sugar.”

  Mr.Brazier was a creepy sod.

  “Why do you say things to me that you just don’t say to the other girls?”

  “I don’t! I treat everyone the same. What have you come to see me for, Zara? What the heck is the point of all this? Is it a period thing? Are you pre-menstrual?”

  Stupid men tried to blame things they did not understand on female hormones. Not all men, just the stupid ones. I wasn’t Alfie Einstein myself, but Mr.Brazier was stupid.

  “No, I am not pre-menstrual, Mr.Brazier. I know you probably think I’m stupid, but I’m not, I notice things, I notice how you treat me. You definitely treat me differently to the other girls.”

  “In what way, Zara?”

  “You make fun of me in a sexual way, Mr.Brazier.”

  “I most certainly do not!”

  “Mr.Brazier, you do! Yesterday, when I came into work, you asked me if I was raised on a farm. When I asked why, you said because I’m really good at raising cocks.”

  “That’s just a joke, Zara. It’s just me being playful, that’s all.”

  “Well, it isn’t funny!”

  “If you don’t find it funny, then I apologise, Zara. I just single you out for a bit of extra Brazzer fun, because you’re my favourite.”

  “That’s what I said, you like me, Mr.Brazier. You’re old enough to be my Dad!”

  “Not quite and anyway, Michael Douglas is old enough to be Catherine Zeta Jones Dad. Age is immaterial once you get beyond a certain age.”

  “But you’re married, Mr.Brazier.”

  “Zara, I am happily married. I just like you as a person. You’re my favourite member of staff.”

  He didn’t look happily married when he was groping Sylvia at the Christmas party. I wasn’t exactly his favourite then either.

  “Do you think I’m a nice person, Mr.Brazier?”

  “Yes, Zara, of course you are.”

  “I’m a happy, kind sort of person, aren’t I?”

  “I would say so.”

  “’Cos you’re not, Mr.Brazier. Now I’m going to apologise for swearing in advance, but you’re fucking horrible, Mr.Brazier !”

  “I’m what?”

  “You’re horrible. You give me the creeps, Mr.Brazier! You touch me up, you..”

  “I most certainly do not ‘touch you up’!”

  “You did do. At Christmas, you did. Then you make me look like a slapper in front of my boyfriends. You make fun of me in front of the other girls too. I mean how was I supposed to know that Andrex wasn’t for wiping dogs bottoms? There’s a picture of a puppy on the packet?”

  “Easy mistake to make.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake, you told me that’s what it was for. You’re nasty, Mr.Brazier, you are a nasty, horrible man!”

  “Zara, will you just shut up for a minute, please!”

  Mr.Brazier was becoming very annoyed.

  “I need to have my say, I have...”

  “Zara, shut up! What makes you think you have the right to say these things to me? Have you forgotten who I am, Zara? I’m your boss! I deserve to be treated with some respect.”

  “No, you don’t. I hate you Mr.Brazier. In the words of a former Tracey Barlow in Coronation Street, ‘I hate you, Mr.Brazier, I hate you, I hate you!”

  �
��Tracey Barlow said that?”

  “Well, she said Wendy Crozier instead of Mr.Brazier, but the hate you bit is right.”

  “Zara, whatever you may think about me, the plain fact is, I am your boss. Until today, I had visions of you being the next Assistant Manager of Penny Pinchers, but your little outburst just now has made that nigh on impossible.”

  What did he expect me to feel? Regret? Guilt? I didn’t, I felt wonderful.

  “Good!”

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Zara? Are you drunk?”

  “No, just happy. I hate it here. I keep my happy face on because it doesn’t pay to be miserable, but I hate the job and I hate you!”

  “I think we’ve established that now, Zara!”

  “So, I’d like to hand my notice in, please.”

  “Where are you going? Booths ? Smith’s?”

  “Nowhere, I am going to be a lady of leisure.”

  “Zara, I know you probably don’t watch the news but we are in difficult times, love. It’s a double dip recession.”

  “Mr.Brazier, I couldn’t care less if Double Dips aren’t selling, I’m a woman, not a child. I didn’t even like them when I was little.”

  “I didn’t mean that, Zara....oh, never mind! So you want to leave Penny Pinchers but you’ve nowhere else to go! You’re mad! Certifiably insane. No wonder you can’t keep a bloke for more than five minutes, you’re crazy!”

  “I think you’ll find I’m not, Mr.Brazier. I also think you’ll find I’m not the only one leaving....”

  Right on cue, Flo burst in through the door. She isn’t the fittest of women and I don’t know if she had run all the way back from Greggs, but she was panting and doubling over trying to catch her breath, as if she had.

  “I’m sorry to come in without knocking first, Mr.Brazier, but could I have a word with Zara, please?”

  “You can do more than that, Flo. You can help her clean out her locker. Young Zara, here, will be leaving us with immediate effect. Her verbal resignation has been accepted.”

  Flo looked at me. She looked scared stiff, like I had gone mad. I just smiled back at her. Mr.Brazier thought I was crazy too, but he was wrong. There is no better feeling than knowing you are going to have the last laugh and I just knew, not only would I be having the last laugh, I would be laughing all the way to the bank.