Page 5 of The Village of Lost and Found

She checked her watch and decided she’d have to pick up Uncle Frank’s mail and some spare clothes for him after her meeting with his editor at the newspaper. She really didn’t want to be late, even though she still wasn’t at all sure what she could possibly offer them.

Heading down alongside the river, she saw that The Black Swan pub at the far end of the village looked as tatty and run-down as always. But on the opposite side of the river, it appeared as if some changes had been made to Riverside Lane since her last visit.

There were four detached buildings which ran along the grassy bank and wide path, all of which had been shops at some point. They each had the same pretty coloured stone with wobbly chimney pots and slate roofs. Although the last two shops on the end of the lane were still as dilapidated as the pub and boarded up, the first two looked very different to how she remembered them.

She walked over the narrow stone bridge, still staring in surprise at Cranbridge Stores. Whereas before it had looked tired and dark, the shop appeared to have had a complete makeover. Pretty bunting fluttered in the gentle breeze as it hung on the newly painted veranda. Soft pastel cushions covered two benches underneath the huge bay windows which were decorated with summer goods. Fresh flowers in buckets lined the steps, their prices written on small blackboards.

Next to the store, was the abandoned haberdashery shop. Her mind was full of memories of the apartment above the shop where Uncle Frank and Aunt Jane had lived for many years. The shop had long been empty, but it also appeared to have had a makeover, although perhaps not on the same scale as Cranbridge Stores. It, too, was a double-fronted shop with huge bay windows on either side of the front door. But without the veranda and pretty flowers, it looked somewhat bare. A small sign on the window proclaimed it to beTheCranbridge Timesoffices and somebody had attempted to give the window frames a lick of paint, not entirely successfully.

Despite the fact that it was only a small local newspaper, Lucy had been excited by the editorial piece she had read in the newspaper. There was obviously a real wealth of talent there. Plus her uncle’s judgement in people was normally sound, so she was in a hopeful mood as she pushed the front door and went inside.

‘Cranbridge Times, how can I help you?’ said the pretty young receptionist into her handset. ‘Oh hello, Bernie. How are you today?’

Lucy glanced around the office whilst the phone call continued. It appeared that the new paint job had only stretched as far as outside. Inside, she was amazed to find that it was a complete and utter mess. The shelves that used to house all the buttons and bows of the haberdashery shop were now filled with haphazard piles of papers, files and books. There were half a dozen desks of varying stages of disorderliness, chock-full of yet more papers. The biggest shock of all, however, was that despite the fact that it was quite a large space, there were no other staff around apart from the young receptionist.

Finally, the receptionist finished her phone call and greeted Lucy with a wide smile. ‘Hello. How can I help you?’ she asked.

‘I’m here to see Tom Addison,’ said Lucy. ‘I have an appointment.’

‘OK! He’ll be back in a minute. Just go through that door at the end,’ she replied. ‘That’s his office. You can’t miss it. It’s the really messy one.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ said Lucy, wondering just how much messier it could get.

She weaved her way through the empty desks. It was really quiet in the office now that the receptionist had finished her phone call. Where was the buzz of people? The excitement of the next big piece of news? She knew that it was only a local newspaper, but she had expected something more.

She reached a door onto which someone had stuck a piece of paper with the words The Editor written on. Lucy peered inside and instantly realised the receptionist had been correct about the state of the room. There were piles of papers, empty crisp packets and Coke cans everywhere amongst yet more piles of newspapers and written notes. Wherever she had worked, her desk had always been scrupulously neat. How could anyone function like this?

The sound of footsteps made her spin around.

‘Hello,’ said a tall, broad-shouldered man, presumably Tom Addison, as he strode past her into the office. He was in his mid-thirties with dark wavy hair. He looked a bit battered and rough-looking around the edges, much like the unironed green T-shirt he was wearing. He was vastly different to the suave man she had imagined had written the sparkling editorial piece.

He threw various files onto the already crowded desk and turned to look at her. A jolt ran through her as his eyes pierced hers, blazing blue, unexpectedly blue.

‘You’re earlier than I expected,’ he said, smiling.

She checked her watch. She was over quarter of an hour early, but she had been anxious to make sure that she was at the hospital in time for the start of visiting hours.

‘So, I have to begin by saying that I don’t think it’s necessary for you to take your top off,’ he carried on.

She gaped at him in shock. Perhaps she had misheard.

‘My… top?’ she was finally able to stutter.

‘I would feel extremely uncomfortable with that, however desperate you feel,’ he said, dragging a hand through his messy hair. ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate.’

Lucy finally found her voice. ‘I agree that it is entirely inappropriate actually! I don’t know what kind of place you’re running down here, mister, but I have never taken my top off to get a job!’ she replied, still shocked. ‘Believe it or not, I don’t need the money or the work that badly!’

‘Work?’ He looked startled. ‘You’re not the lady with the botched plastic surgery?’

She flushed bright red in embarrassment. ‘No! I’m Lucy Conway. Frank’s niece. I’m here for an interview.’

‘That was today? Right. I see.’ He broke into a sheepish grin which lit up his, admittedly, good-looking face. ‘Sorry about that. I’ve lost track of the days. I’ve also been badgered by this woman for months and was getting concerned that I was some kind of target for a sexual harassment lawsuit.’

Lucy was still trying to compose herself as he went behind his desk and sat down, putting a pair of battered Converse trainers on the desk as he leant back in his chair. She noticed that the bottom of his jeans were looking a little frayed.

‘Please sit down,’ he told her, gesturing at a nearby chair, which was piled high with yet more papers. ‘You can dump those on the floor.’

The place was in chaos, thought Lucy, as she moved the pile of paperwork. Her hands itched to start to tidying up everywhere. Although heavens know where she would even begin.