The Greek’s Cinderella Deal by Carol Marinelli

CHAPTER ONE

ONCEUPONATIMEshe’d been brave. Mary had it in writing!

Lost in a daydream as she swept the salon floor, Mary thought of the old-school report she had leafed through last night.

Mary can be somewhat reckless at times...

Mary seems to delight in mischief...

Yes, and once she had worn a mettlesome smile and been full of daring and spirit...

‘Mary!’

She was startled by the voice of Coral, her boss.

‘I need to speak to you.’

‘Of course!’

‘In the staffroom.’

Mary leant the broom against the wall and wanted to quickly retie her rather tatty blonde hair because, though she feigned nonchalance, Mary was rather certain she knew what this was about. At least she hoped she did!

Today was her twenty-first birthday, and usually there was a little party held in the salon for birthdays and engagements and such.

Up until now the day had felt wretched—her birthday had gone unannounced and unnoticed. Even her father hadn’t sent a card.

‘You’re not in trouble,’ Coral added as they walked through the hair salon—perhaps because all too often Mary was.

Whatever went wrong in the rather shabby London salon, somehow it ended up being her fault. But now, just when she had given up hoping, things were looking up.

‘Do you have plans for tonight?’ Coral asked as they made their way through a cramped corridor out to the back.

‘No, none,’ Mary responded as hope flared higher. Maybe, finally, she was going to be invited out with ‘the Saturday night crowd’, as some of the staff called themselves. The popular staff, of which Mary wasn’t one.

‘That’s good, because I’ve got a favour to ask,’ Coral said, pushing the staffroom door open.

‘A favour?’ Mary checked, bracing herself for shouts of ‘Happy birthday!’ and preparing to act surprised. Anticipating balloons, and cake, and the pop of a champagne cork, even though Mary herself didn’t drink.

Except the staffroom was empty and one glance told her that there was no cake—just an awful lot of mugs she would have to wash up tonight.

‘What sort of favour?’ Mary asked, choking back disappointment while still clinging to the hope that they were going to celebrate her birthday after work.

‘I’ve got a date tonight,’ Coral said, ‘and I can’t wriggle out of it. Believe me, I’ve tried...’

Mary frowned.

‘The thing is, Costa Leventis is flying in from Athens.’ She looked at Mary’s still bemused expression. ‘Please don’t tell me you haven’t heard of him.’

‘I haven’t.’

Coral sighed with irritation. ‘He’s important—extremely important—and there’s been a dinner arranged at short notice...’ She named a very exclusive Mayfair hotel and Mary’s eyes widened. ‘The trouble is I already have a cli—I mean, a date tonight. I’m asking if you’ll please step in.’

‘To go on a date with Costa Le—?’

‘Heavens, no!’ Coral laughed at the very notion. ‘Believe me, I’d drop anything for that. No, the dinner date is with Eric Ridgemont, who is meeting with Costa Leventis.’

Mary had no idea who he was either, but she blinked when Coral told her how much she’d be paid, for it was significantly more than she made in a week.

For going out to dinner.

Mary might be utterly innocent where men were concerned, but she wasn’t naïve. Her time in and out of foster care as her father had drifted in and out of prison had taught her quite a lot about life. Coral’s red sports car and designer wardrobe didn’t exactly equate with a salon that wasn’t doing particularly well.

‘Just dinner?’ Mary checked dubiously.

‘Whatever you want,’ Coral said. ‘Look, I know it’s short notice, but you’ve already said you don’t have plans tonight.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Mary shook her head. ‘No.’

‘This is really important,’ Coral warned.

Not to me, it isn’t, Mary was tempted to reply. But she really didn’t want to have an argument with her boss—or with anyone, come to that! Since her mother’s death, when Mary was seven, anxiety had lodged in her heart and throat and was now a permanent resident. She felt as if she were walking a perpetual tightrope, terrified that one false move would see her fall, and there would be no net beneath to catch her.

None.

Mary didn’t just work at the salon—it was also her home. Her Girl Friday position there had started out as a temporary subsidised role, but when it had ended Coral had offered her a permanent position with the added bonus of accommodation. She had also hinted at the prospect of an apprenticeship, although it had never transpired. Coral was only too happy to tell her why—aside from daydreaming, she was terrible at small talk, prone to saying the wrong thing...

Basically, she didn’t fit in.

Mary had long since known that.

‘This is Mary...’ That was how the social workers had introduced her, often late at night, or in the middle of a family dinner. ‘Mary Jones.’

Mary Jones—the ‘emergency placement’ that never quite worked out.

She’d been labelled ‘difficult’ and ‘odd’ by so many. Her withdrawal into grief had seen her labelled as sullen, and later attempts to be friendly had come across as desperate and clingy. Oh, how they’d laughed at one new school, when at Show and Tell she’d proudly shown the class a present her father had made her. While in prison.

Ha-ha-ha...

Now, at twenty-one, she was without a true friend, a career, or a home she could properly call her own—just a bed in the back room of the salon.

‘Tonight’s a chance to earn some good money,’ Coral said. ‘Heaven knows you moan about not having enough.’

That stung.

‘I’ve done a lot for you,’ Coral reminded her. ‘Just yesterday I defended you to the other girls when the tip jar went missing.’

‘That had nothing to do with me.’

‘We’re never going to get to the bottom of that...’ Coral sighed pointedly. ‘Though it has been going missing a lot lately, and if the other girls knew about your father...’ As Mary shrivelled, Coral became kinder. ‘Look, if you do this for me I’ll double the cash and do your hair.’

The thought of getting her hair done was actually rather tempting. Despite working in the salon, Mary had never had it professionally cut, and wore her wavy blonde hair in a low ponytail.

But still she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, no.’

Coral didn’t even register her response. ‘Think about it,’ she said, leaving Mary standing alone in the staffroom.

She should have defended herself against the theft insinuation more strongly, Mary knew, except she always froze when her father’s criminal history was raised, terrified of the deeper truth coming to light if anyone delved.

Before the petty crime he was in prison for now, there had been some white-collar crime, in his attempt to pay legal and school fees and hold on to the family home. It was the crime prior to that that Mary could not bear to revisit.

William Jones had been driving under the influence and had been charged for the death of her mother.

It was a cold summing-up, but it was all Mary could manage.

Trying to push her thoughts aside, Mary started to collect up the mugs and headed out to the little kitchenette near her bedroom. Seeing the milk had again been left out, she put it back in the fridge, but as she closed the door she paused. There, between the notes and the other quirky magnets on the door, was one precious one.

It went everywhere with Mary.

A little fridge magnet with a picture of a beach in Cornwall and a tiny little thermometer that still worked. Mary checked the temperature each morning and could almost feel her mother’s smile. It had been with Mary since she had first been removed from the family home—a little gift she had bought her mother on their final family holiday.

Final everything, really.

How could she have guessed on that wonderful summer day that a few short weeks later everything would fall apart?

She ran her finger over the magnet and along the tiny thread of the thermometer, that was, despite the years, always accurate. Here, far back from the warmth of the salon, the thermometer reading was as cold as Mary was lonely.

From beneath it she pulled out a scrap of paper—a horoscope she had torn out when she’d been sorting out the salon magazines.

If today is your birthday...

Adventures awaited, apparently, if only she had the courage to take a chance...

She had torn it out partly hoping it was a sign that her mother was showing her the path she should take. Foolish, perhaps, yet it was all the guidance she had.

As Coral called out another drink order Mary replaced the horoscope and the magnet, then made the drinks, which she took out to the clients.

‘So, where are you off to tonight?’ Coral was painting her nails as she chatted with a client.

Everyone was getting ready for Saturday night. Dinners, bars... Anniversaries, catching up with friends... Mary listened to the loud chatter above the hairdryers, and every now and then she could feel Coral’s eyes drift to hers.

Half the clients, it seemed, were going on blind dates tonight, and surely what Coral was suggesting was much the same? The money would mean she could add to her interview outfit and bring forward her secret plans to leave.

‘Have you thought any more about it?’ Coral asked as the annoying bell on the door jangled when the final client left.

‘I can’t.’

‘Eric really needs a date. Leventis will bring a knockout—you can guarantee that! Eric doesn’t want to be there sitting on his own...’

Mary wavered. One of the reasons that Mary never ventured anywhere more exciting than the nearby coffee shop or the local library was that she felt conspicuous alone.

‘Eric’s a sweetheart,’ Coral said. ‘If you don’t have anything to wear you can borrow a dress...’

‘I have something,’ Mary said, thinking of the vintage dress she had bought. It had been an impractical buy but she had been unable to resist, even though it had remained unworn.

‘You’re sure?’ Coral checked dubiously. ‘It’s a very high-end hotel.’

‘I have just the dress,’ Mary assured her. ‘I’ve been saving it for something special.’

‘Great!’ Coral beamed. ‘Go and have a seat, then, and I’ll sort out your hair.’

‘Shouldn’t it be washed first?’ Mary asked, thinking of the deep conditioning treatments and the scalp massages which she saw being given each and every day.

But Coral shook her head. ‘You can’t wash it if you’re wearing it up, and there isn’t time to cut and style it. You’ll have to meet him soon.’

Mary sat, watching her hair being straightened and then loosely curled at the front. She leant forward a little as Coral pinned it up and thought of her seven-year-old self in the old school report.

Reckless, mischievous, mettlesome... Except there had been another resounding theme...

Mary has to learn to consider consequences...

‘Head up,’ Coral said.

Mary met her own vivid blue eyes in the mirror for a second, and then closed them as Coral doused her in hairspray.

For so many years now she’d been considering consequences. Over and over until she was too scared of her own shadow to move. She was bone-weary of watching others have fun while she held herself back. So tired of being alone.

Maybe this Eric felt the same way.

‘Done!’ Coral said. ‘I’ll leave you to do your own make-up. I really have to get going. I’ll see you on Tuesday.’ That was when the salon opened again. ‘Make sure you do the high dusting.’

‘Of course,’ Mary said.

‘And the towels...’ Coral reminded her.

The bell jangled as she dashed out the door—not that Mary was paying attention.

Tonight, on her twenty-first birthday, Mary was going on her very first date!