Адерин Бран – Past imperfect (страница 3)

“And you have no idea who it is from?” The boss asked in disbelief.

Lera vigorously shook her head, making her red hair even more messy.

“What about a signature?” the boss pressed.

“Firstly, I thought it was one of my coworkers, but no one admitted to it. The packages were always delivered by a courier, according to the girls…”

“A courier? According the girls?” Irina Konstantinova's eyes narrowed. “So, do you mean the presents have never been delivered to you personally?”

“Well… Y-yes…” Lera stammered.

She suddenly realized this simple fact too. True, for over a year and a half, the courier had never delivered gifts to her in person. All that while, the box had either magically appeared on her desk or been passed on by one of the employees.

“What about any notes?”

“There were always stickers on the boxes with my name printed on them. That’s all.”

“Hmm…” Irina Konstantinovna tapped her manicured fingers on the table. "How long has it been going on?" she asked almost without interest.

“For about a year and a half.”

The woman jumped up, "Anonymous, fabulously expensive gifts have been arriving for a year and half, and you aren't surprised? Are you crazy? Russia isn’t a habitat for any Robin Hoods!"

“Until today, it has been just worthless things!” Lera interrupted her again, "Cheap flowers, I don’t know, a box of chocolates, a little key chain with an angel on it. Really, it’s never been anything so expensive!"

The woman slumped slightly in her chair and bit her lip. "Have you told anyone?" she asked more calmly.

"Yes," said the girl sadly. "To my mom."

"And?"

"She said, 'Don't worry about it! What’s the problem? They give, you take.'"

The boss chuckled dejectedly, rolling her eyes slightly. Leaning towards Lera, Irina Konstantinovna began to speak in an admonishing tone. "Normal men don't send flowers without a note for a year. Courting openly for a year is something I can understand. There are some men who act like unbelievably stubborn screw-horned sheep. But doing it quietly? I don't believe it. What if it's some kind of maniac, have you considered that?"

"But no one kills for a box of chocolates." Lera said spreading her hands.

“Actually, I don't know. I didn't communicate with maniacs much. But, please note, there isn't merely a box of chocolates on the table right now!” Irina Konstantinovna pointed her finger at the door of the conference room. “Can you imagine how much these earrings cost?"

Lera shook her head and bit her lower lip. It felt like she was being scolded for something that wasn't her fault.

“Red gold, diamonds, fluorite of the exact colour of your eyes’. I would say they are worth five thousand dollars.” Lera looked at her boss, hiccupping. And then Irina Konstantinovna nodded and said, "Maybe even more."

Lera sat there, mouth open, not knowing what to say. She had only ever seen those sums in movies. The boss chewed her lips and casually asked, "What are you doing this weekend?"

Lera felt scared. This is it… Now she will offer some kind of work in such a way that it will be impossible to dodge… Poor Sveta's fate has caught up with Lera right on the very edge of her vacation! Lera started babbling confusedly in fright:

“Irina Konstantinovna, I have plans! I very very much have plans! I can't work!”

The woman suddenly laughed genuinely, and Lera paused. “Don't worry about it!” The boss said with a smile. “That's not why I'm asking. Are you going to leave the city, by any chance?”

“I am going to!” Lera blurted out. “Tomorrow! To a very distant place! The phone will not work there, it is in the middle of nowhere!”

The woman continued to look at her subordinate with amusement, then slammed her hand on the table and said sharply: "Great! Firstly, bring the box here, I will hide it in the safe. Then, sit in the office motionlessly until I let Marat go. He will escort you home. Thirdly… How will you get there, in your middle of nowhere?”

“B-by p-plane” Lera stuttered, pinned down by the commanding voice. “From Domodedovo.”

“That’s even better! It's nice to realise that Russian airlines have developed to the point where planes from Domodedovo fly to the middle of nowhere.”

At these words, Lera flushed and looked away.

“So, I will ask Kostya to pick you up at home and meet you upon your return. Don’t argue!” The boss growled, raising her eyebrows when Lera tried to object. “He will not just take you to the airport, he will meet you at your apartment and take you back! Door-to-door! No arguments!”

Lera's face fell.

“And finally, while you are in your "middle of nowhere," I will make a request to the security company. They must be keeping the CCTV recordings for a while. Can you roughly tell me when the other presents arrived?”

"Uh-huh" Lera replied meekly, apparently resigned to her fate.

“That's good to be “uh-huh”. Here you are the paper, write the dates and approximate times. After you come back, we will watch the videos and, if we recognise your admirer, we can take him over his boll… humm… we’ll talk anyway… If not, we should go to the police.”

“To the police?!” Lera became nervous.

“Of course! It's pointless to apply now anyway. The earrings will be taken, but policemen still won't start moving until after the holidays. That's right, Larina! Write down now!”

The boss thrust a piece of paper in front of the girl, got up abruptly, and went to call the next person over. Lera, meanwhile, buried her head in the blank paper and started writing…

Chapter 2

Lera was spinning around in front of the mirror, smiling at her reflection. Her blue-green eyes were shining with amusement today. The girl had already been dressed and was ready to go a long time ago, and while waiting for her escort, she enjoyed picking out a scarf to match her coat.

After all, Irina Konstantinovna's idea of a voluntary-compulsory escort was a good one, although Lera initially still tried to protest. Hearing the combat mission "the beautiful lady is in danger" announced, Marat, as a true son of his nation, activated knight mode and joined forces with the boss to press Lera.

Upon hearing Lera's confused objections, Marat threatened to ensure her compliance by force if necessary. Specifically, by immobilizing her with swaddling. He vowed to bring immediately his entire brood of brothers to protect his beloved colleague, one brother for guarding each of Lera’s limbs. At this point, Lera babbled even more desperate. When Marat, stern faced, reached for the phone to call for help, Lera realized it was pointless to resist. She gave in with a sigh. Marat smiled with satisfaction looking at Lera with his hazel eyes and put the phone down.

Ten minutes later, Lera realized that walking home with a tall, broad-shouldered, athletic guy supporting her gallantly on the icy sidewalk was much more enjoyable, calmer, and safer than hobbling home alone. Marat smiled and joked, but his bright tiger-coloured eyes carefully scanned the street from under his hair that fell on his forehead. Looking at him, Lera felt cheerful, and smiled. She hadn't realised until that evening how much she had been putting her head down and hurrying to and from work.

The evening passed much more calmly for Lera than usual. Now the girl looked at the two packages of pills on the table in the hallway with hatred, and then still shoved them in her bag, along with the prescriptions.

Strong sedatives. Those that needed to be taken daily and those that were only needed in cases of breakdowns. She hated the sight, taste and smell of them. Lera shuddered each time at the clicking of the foil as she removed the pills.

Only half an hour ago, she had coped with nervous nausea that came every time she took these damned pills. Her therapist said that it happened to her because she had not yet accepted her illness, or come to terms with the fact that taking the drugs was a continual and strict necessity

Yes, she had not come to terms with it. She still did not accept it! Lera still didn’t believe that she was ill, even though everyone tried to convince her that she was mad. She was tired of proving her point to everyone and would just look like a monster when someone tried to have a heart-to-heart talk with her.

It felt like she was drowning in fear but still didn't fully believe in her disease. She still didn’t, although no one else seemed to notice the things she told her mother and doctor about. No one listened to her. Sometimes she was tormented by doubt and had a pathetic tantrum. Especially after her periodic visits to the therapist, a kindly fellow looking like Santa who, with warmth in his voice, urged her to devote herself fully to the treatment.

In a few days everything would pass and she would find her inner strength again. Despite that, she took the pills because they helped her cope with persistent anxiety and fears. Lera was alone. Surrounded by all these therapists and relatives, these liars with caring faces, she was still alone. Alone, resisting them all and resisting her fear. Face to face with her terror.

Every time she felt nervous, they dragged her to the doctor again, and Lera had learned to hide her emotions behind a stone mask. She had learned to control her breathing, to calm the trembling in her hands by sheer willpower. This had worked. Visits to the doctor had been reduced to a minimum. However, it was all a lie, because the things that scared her had not disappeared.