Becky looked up at the clock and was dismayed that only three minutes had passed since she last checked. She scanned the shop floor in front of her. Still empty. It was hardly surprising. You’d have to be pretty desperate to venture down to the basement on Christmas Eve. The last customer she’d served had left two and a half hours before, and they’d only needed batteries so their kid’s new toy would work on Christmas morning.
“The choir of children sing their song, they practised all year long,” sang out over the speaker.
Becky had heard that song at least a billion times since the Christmas music started on November 27th. She thought the children must be slow learners since they were only singing ‘ding, dong’ over and over again.
She looked up at the clock again. Four minutes this time. Another glance around the shop told her no one had come in. She wondered why they stayed open on Christmas Eve but realised she knew the answer. Mr Parker wouldn’t risk someone coming in for a last-minute gift, batteries or wrapping paper to find their doors closed.
“We could be the difference between the perfect Christmas and disappointment,” he’d said, leaning in just a little too close.
She and Emily had asked if they could leave early as the shop was deserted when they came back from lunch break. He’d been watching her with an oily smile when she handed over the pack of AAA batteries an hour and 45 minutes later.
Becky distracted herself by wondering, again, how old he was. He insisted on being called Mr Parker when all their other duty managers used their first names. They all wore smart trousers and polo shirts with their name badges, but he always wore a suit and tie. Maybe he wanted to look older than he was. Becky was sure he was older than her, but probably not by much. Perhaps he’d got his job via the graduate scheme and would move on to learn about another department soon.
She couldn’t wait to go to university. Six months ago, a year out to earn some money and take out fewer student loans had felt like a good idea. People had warned her that retail was tough, but it was this or bar work. At least her obnoxious customers here were mostly sober. They might shout at you but didn’t pin you in a dark corner because your skirt sent the wrong message.
Becky straightened up as she heard footsteps on the stairs next to her counter. She turned to smile at Emily as she came into view. Becky realised they made unlikely friends on the surface. Emily bore all the hallmarks of a well-brought-up, middle-class young lady who was always immaculately turned out. Becky had got the job on the condition that her uniform must always cover her tattoos, and she’d only wear a stud in her nose instead of a ring. They’d started at the same time and had quickly discovered, during shared lunch breaks, that they were both there for the same reason. A shared bus journey home had cemented their friendship, even though Emily had carried on to the more expensive outer suburbs after Becky got off.
“Deserting your post?”
Emily smiled. “I almost thought Parker was hiding behind you just then!”
“I’ve had lots of time to perfect my impression. What are you doing down here?”
“It’s as dead up there as it is here, but Anne convinced Parker that you might need my help, so here I am! Honestly, I could have kissed her. She’s a lovely woman, but as I don’t know anything about children or dogs, our conversation is a bit limited.”
“Well, I definitely need your help. I’m dying of boredom. Have you got any plans for tonight?”
“Some of my school friends are back from uni, so we’re going to the pub to catch up. You?”
“Dunno. After the Christmas party, I’m not really in the mood to go out. I’ll probably end up listening to Mum argue with Dad about whether illegal immigrants are going to eat our cat.”
“Ugh. Hopefully, there’ll be something good on TV to distract you.” Emily stopped speaking, and Becky felt the silence had reached out to touch her. “Are we still, erm, you know…”
“Yeah. As long as you’re sure. This isn’t your fight.”
“Of course it is. He needs to know he can’t behave like that and get away with it.”
“Behave like what?” Parker must have tiptoed down the stairs. He stood a few feet away, gazing at them expectantly with raised eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound like a work-related conversation. I don’t pay you to stand around chatting.”
“You don’t pay us at all,” Emily muttered.
His expression reminded Becky of her grandmother’s face when she was pretending to be too deaf to understand the things she didn’t want to hear.
“Emily, why don’t you go upstairs and help Anne? It’s nearly closing time.” He watched Emily climb the stairs before turning to Becky. “You can cash out your till.”
“Will do. Oh, I almost forgot. My key was jamming when I logged back in after lunch. Could I borrow yours?” Parker rolled his eyes as if she’d purposely arranged the malfunction. “I need to go to the top floors and check everyone’s cleared out. Come with me to open the lift, and then you can have my keys.”
“But –”
“But what?”
“I thought the lift was only for when you’re taking stock with you.”
Parker stepped closer until she flinched away from the smell of his breath. “Are you a manager? Your badge doesn’t say so, whereas mine does. Stay in your lane, missy.”
He flourished the keys as he walked, like a bargain basement prison warder. Becky saw his smug smile and thought it was amazing that someone could get that much pleasure from being the custodian of a key to the service lift. He turned the key to open the door, handed her the keys and pressed the button for the second floor. Becky watched as the lights showing which floor the lift had reached got to the top before turning back towards her till.
…
They’d missed the last bus home. The police inspector had kind eyes and told them a constable would take them home as soon as they’d finalised their statements.
“Thank you, inspector,” Emily said as she hugged Becky. “I’m just so relieved Becky’s OK.” She turned to her friend. “When we heard the scream, I thought something terrible had happened to you. When I looked round and saw you halfway down the stairs… I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved.”
The inspector nodded. “It’s strange he got into the lift alone if it was only meant for moving stock. We’ll get to the bottom of it though, don’t you worry. I can only imagine it was some sort of technical issue.”
“It must have been,” Emily replied. “That lift only moved if you had a key, and he had the key with him, didn’t he, Becky?”
Becky nodded slowly and gulped as the sick feeling rose in her throat.
“Yes, I wanted to double-check that with you. Now, you went upstairs to return a key, is that right?”
“That’s right. He lent me his till key because mine wasn’t working.”
“But the other keys stayed with him?”
“Yes. Only managers can have a lift key. He was a stickler for the rules. I handed him back the key, he put it back on the ring, and I went down the stairs. Then I heard the scream. Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”
They’d only meant to scare him. Every night since the Christmas party, Becky had woken drenched in sweat, reliving what Noel Parker had done to her. She only wanted him to feel that same fear, and Emily helped her find the way. Becky had climbed all the way up to the second floor. His clammy skin had touched hers as she handed him his keys, and he smiled as she shuddered.
How was she to know he’d be distracted and step straight into an open lift shaft?
