Sarah was ten minutes late for work.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Scrabbling through the underground carpark, out into the grey, dubious morning light of the spacious Norfolk skies, the young redhead swore her way towards the front door of the bookshop.

After failing to find a free parking space on the outskirts of the city, she'd been forced to commit to the cutthroat price of £6.50 for the working day. That equated to almost a third of the day's wage. After tax and everything else that is.

Bursting her way through the door, the customer bell clanging its welcome, Sarah spotted her boss storming her way into the shop from the back storeroom.

"Oh, hello Miss Laker." Elizabeth Harrison smirked as she smoothed down the wrinkles in her pink shirt dress and picked off the corners of roughly applied red lipstick to her tight mouth. "Well then, let's see what you come up with this morning?"

Sarah took her time to close the door, unwilling to face Mrs Harrison's wrath. With a resigned shrug of the shoulders and a deep breath of apprehension, the young woman turned to deal with her fate.

"And what time do you call this?"

"Ten past nine."

"Cocky as well as late then yes?"

"No. Just late."

"How do you expect me to react to this exactly, Miss Laker?"

Sarah was stunned, struck dead in the doorway, with the sharp light behind the counter opposite the entrance glaring like a Gestapo interrogation lamp. The shadow of her boss loomed across the void of the shop floor.

Maybe truthfulness was the way to go this time? Sarah had neither the energy or the inclination to even try and assemble some kind of rational excuse. She'd passed the point of no return and, quite frankly, couldn't really give a rat's arse about how to deal with the everyday torture she endured from Mrs Harrison. Pushing back her overgrown, sweaty fringe, Sarah looked up to tackle her oppressor.

"Okay. Alright. I admit that yes, I am actually ten minutes--"

"Thirteen minutes"

"As I was saying, thirteen minutes late. Yet, here I am! Once again."

Elizabeth Harrison stopped opposite her only member of staff. She hesitated and swallowed hard. Perhaps she was trying to think up a suitable punishment for Sarah's tardiness?

"Very good, Miss Laker. Now, could you do me a favour and please get your backside over here, so that I can at least explain to you the method behind my madness, yes?"

Frowning, Sarah contemplated a possible reason for the unexpected arrival of her boss, who wasn't normally seen until Tuesday afternoon at the earliest. Something was wrong and Sarah hoped to goodness that it had nothing to do with her.

"Well, Miss Laker." Elizabeth Harrison leaned back to sit her perfectly formed buttocks onto one of the two stools behind the customer counter. "I suppose it comes as no surprise to you that I have been keeping my eye on you recently and that... "

Sarah surpressed a giggle as the older woman grappled in a semi second of distress as the stool twirled and left her bottom angling for the correct descent point.

"Well, quite frankly, I have nothing else to say, but if you don't finally pull your finger out and really make some kind of commitment, yes? Then I will be forced to look elsewhere for the continuation of my lifeline."

Bemused by more than one thing offered in this conversation, Sarah asked; "I'm sorry, but - lifeline?"

"Yes, I know exactly what I said, thank you very much, Miss Laker." The proud lady barked her response. "I think I have a better idea of what I mean than you can possibly imagine."

Elizabeth Harrison was a short woman of stature, yet her body this particular morning was posed in such a way as to command the very posts of the Coloseum in Rome. Arms crossed, chin tilted towards the paint flaking ceiling, eyes wide, nostrils flared and chest heaving. She demanded respect.

"There's something you need to understand about me, Miss Laker."

Sarah had the feeling that this was the precursor to some seriously interesting info. She walked closer and placed her hands in her bleached jeans pockets, breathing deeply and absorbing the moment. The sweat from her mad dash to work was soaking into her best blouse under her leather jacket.

"Okay, tell me then please, Mrs Harrison. I'm all ears."

Elizabeth Harrison raised an eyebrow and continued. "You see, I come from a long, long line of family from Tobago, and I have absolutely no intention of leaving my inheritance to rot within the void of legal intrigue."

Sarah shook her head, frowning. "I'm sorry, did I miss something?"

"Yes. You did. A lot, Miss Laker. You see, while I've been giving you such a 'hard time', as you youngsters call it these days, I've actually been grooming you for the best proposition of your entire young life."

While Elizabeth Harrison sat wringing her hands on her lap, Sarah drew her breath again and knotted her dark eyebrows together.

"I have no family."

Looking at the doorway beyond Sarah, Elizabeth looked like she was speaking to the air around her. Maybe she was wishing that she was in a much different situation at this stage in her life, she was no spring chicken after all.

"I have no one to pass this on to - for what it's worth that is - but that's about the size of it. You're the one I've chosen to give it to. How about that then Miss Laker? Can you picture that in your future? Yes?"

Her fazed mind stumbled as she struggled to wake up into a state of maximum alertness. Sarah blinked rapidly and scrunched her face before offering an answer.

"I'm sorry, but have I got this right, Mrs Harrison? Are you proposing that I... I mean... me... take over this shop? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"Well, yes, Miss Laker." Elizabeth's chin rose a few inches in her usual manner. "I would have thought that was obvious."

Sarah's shoulders hunched and she sighed heavily. She stared her boss straight in the eye before speaking, unable to control herself any longer.
"Then why the hell do you have to be such a bitch about everything?"

The lady answered quietly, apparently unperturbed and seemingly expecting her reaction. "Because I had no idea that you would be able to convince me that you are capable of doing it."

"Oh! I.. I don't really know what to say. I'm, well, yes. I'm absolutely gobsmacked. You're not pulling my leg are you?"

Elizabeth got off the stool and glared fiercely at her, she seemed irritated by the to-ing and fro-ing. "What I'm about to tell you has to go no further than the two of us. You think you can keep that promise? Yes?"

"Of course, Mrs. Harrison."

"Elizabeth, please!"

"Yes, Elizabeth, I can keep it. Why, what is it?"

Elizabeth cleared her throat, clearly struggling with the unfamiliarity of letting someone else into her personal life.

"I was married very young. Too young. My husband was from a rich and influential family who owned most of the hotel industry on Tobago. I came from nothing, quite literally nothing no living parents, no siblings or cousins etc, just my grandmother. She died just before I moved to England. "

"I'm sorry. "

"Thank you Miss Laker," Elizabeth briskly replied. "Anyway as I was saying, unknown to me, my husband's family were involved in many illegal operations, and it wasn't long into our marriage when they were investigated. My husband took the fall for the whole family. He was incarcerated for life and died there, four years ago, from cancer."

Sarah closed her gaping mouth.

"So, there you have it. As for the shop, I did that all myself. I worked, Miss Laker. You have no idea how hard I worked and scraped and borrowed to get this place up and running. And now I'm tired Miss Laker."

"But you seem to be a way off from retirement yet."

Nodding, Elizabeth walked to the back of the shop and picked up a delivery box, carrying it to the counter.

"I'm glad you've noticed, Miss Laker."

Sarah couldn't resist another cheeky comeback. "Sarah, please."

"Yes, Sarah, I am only fifty. But my heart is not. I won't make it to my retirement. I wish to return to Tobago to rest and end up in the graveyard, next to my family, overlooking the sea. It's as simple as that."

Sarah swallowed dryly, sympathetic moisture building in her eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that." She mentally kicked herself for how lame the words sounded.

Elizabeth sliced through the seal on the box with a pair of scissors and pulled back the cardboard. She feigned interest in the contents while her mind was obviously whirling. Without looking up, she finished the discussion.
"There's a lot of stock here to be processed, I'll leave it to you and I'll be getting my lawyer to contact you about the official proposition. So, make yourself busy, and I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Yes?"

And with that she spun on her kitten heels, grabbed her jacket and bag and left. The back door rattled behind her.

Having trouble focusing, Sarah fixed her eyes on the back of the door. It took her a good three minutes before she was fully in control of herself again.

The tinkling of the front door bell, along with a gust of wind, warned Sarah of a customer's entrance. She turned and greeted the old couple before heading behind the counter to finally take off her leather jacket. "Hello, let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

From then on, the rest of the morning passed quickly. Customers and new stock took up Sarah's physical and mechanical reflexes, leaving her mind free to race through scenarios of her future.

Could she do this? Now she really would have to sell the farm. Was there any way that she could still manage to keep it and get herself a place here in Norwich closer to the shop? The daily commute and parking drained her resources, as well as her energy. Now she would have to spend even more time at the shop, arranging purchases and doing the accounts ect. She didn't see a way out of it. But the farm was the only thing that gave her a connection to her mother and grandfather. If she gave that away would she be letting go of the feeling that they were somehow still around?

Then there was her father, what would happen if he somehow managed to work his way back to his old self and wanted to return to his own livelihood? She'd be stripping him of his family heritage. God, why did such a wonderful offer come with such a bloody awful dilemma?

By the time half past twelve arrived, Sarah knew she needed to talk it over. She sold yet another copy of the thriller 'Hannibal,' this time to a mother of twins. Then she helped the woman out with her pushchair and locked the shop door behind her.

She punched in a number on the shop phone, something she'd never dared to do before today, and waited for the pick up. There was only one person in her life who she knew would give her the answers she needed. When the phone was answered straight away, she was so startled that she spluttered into the receiver.

"Hi. Do you want to meet for lunch?"