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  UNDERLEAF

  Tales of Secrets and Strangeness

  by

  Gina Dickerson

  Underleaf © Gina Dickerson 2012

  This edition published Worldwide © Gina Dickerson 2016

  First illustrated edition published 2013

  All individual contributions © Gina Dickerson.

  The right of Gina Dickerson to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Interior illustrations © Gina Dickerson 2012 & 2016.

  The following works were previously published as shortened versions in anthologies:

  The Reunion - Twisting Fate, 2008

  The Cove - Life’s Stories, 2008

  Karyn’s Discovery - Fabrication & Imagination, 2009

  Sushi Cake - Brief Encounters, 2010

  All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, photocopying, the Internet or otherwise, without the prior written permission from the author.

  All characters and events featured in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to any person, place, organisation/company, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

  Cover design and art by RoseWolf Design

  http://rosewolfdesign.wix.com/rosewolfdesign

  Image credits:

  Mikesilent, Svetland Rib, twin designer, Sandralise

  Bigstock

  Gina Dickerson can be found on her website:

  www.ginadickersonwriter.co.uk

  and over on

  www.authorsreach.co.uk

  http://ginadickerson.wix.com/rosewolfbooks

  Also by Gina Dickerson

  Always Golden

  Mortiswood Tales

  Mortiswood: Kaelia Awakening

  Mortiswood: Kaelia Falling

  The Pennington Christmas Curse

  Twisted Thoughts

  Unveiling Lies

  Available Now

  Contents

  Copier

  Petula’s Choice

  Prevailing Darkness

  Reunion

  Threads Which Bind

  Hair Today

  I’m Not You

  Crystalline

  Free Range

  Inside Out

  Two Steps Behind

  Sushi Cake

  Chosen

  Karyn’s Discovery

  The Cove

  Perfect Girl

  About the author

  Also by Gina Dickerson

  Copier

  It wasn’t particularly the high-paid position I had been hoping for, in fact I wasn’t even sure what the vacancy entailed. I’d been suffering from a serious case of low self-esteem when I’d sat the interview so I was rather surprised to receive something from the company in the post the following morning.

  The heavy envelope was embossed to the back with the mark of the “Camberton” logo; a single curved C in a delicate, unpretentious font. Conciliating myself that I really wasn’t bothered by rejection, my fingers still shook as I ripped the envelope open to be met with a visitor pass card and a request to start immediately. The letter gave no more of a prelude as to what the required duties would be than the interview had. Mulling the decision over, I dressed quickly and rummaged in my closet for my favourite black heels. Frustratingly they were in desperate need of repair which I knew I could ill afford considering I had lost my job three months ago and already scraped the bottom of my savings barrel. I couldn’t be picky. There was no option other than to accept the position at Camberton.

  * * * * *

  The Camberton building nestled comfortably in the centre of the city, a short drive from my home, and provided sub-level parking for staff and visitors. The car-park was well lit and almost full by the time I squeezed my small car into the last free space. The click-clack of the exposed metal tip of my heels resonated in the silence as I hurried nervously to the lift. I swiped the visitor pass card at the security scanner and the lift doors slid open to reveal a clean, white pod which carried me swiftly to the reception floor.

  The woman behind the desk peered up at my approach, her cool, grey eyes flicked across me and I instantly disliked her. Whether it was her diffident manner as she handed over my staff security pass card, or the fact she was wearing next season’s palazzo trousers and futuristic structured jacket, of which I was envious, that sparked the dislike, I wasn’t certain. In silence I followed her through a maze of corridors, each mirroring the last until she pushed open a door indistinguishable from all others we had passed.

  ‘In there,’ she whispered.

  I listened carefully and was met with nothing but silence. ‘Are you sure?’

  With a brief nod of her ponytailed head, she turned smartly on her heel and strode back in the direction from which we had come.

  Pushing open the indicated door, I stepped into a white walled room with yet another white door in the opposite side. The first door clicked shut behind me and upon closer inspection, it bore no handle. Just as shivers of nervousness threatened to set in, the second door swung open and the sounds which ensued were received with relief. Rows of desks aligned the room, their occupants speaking into headsets, eyes glued to the computer screens, fingers moving swiftly across computer keyboards.

  I constructed a smile on my face and approached the nearest person. ‘Excuse me, can you help me? This is my first day.’

  The woman, long blonde hair tied back in a sensible ponytail, carried on typing and talking as if she hadn’t heard me.

  ‘I’m new here, can you tell me who I need to see?’ I asked, louder this time. The woman continued to ignore me. I couldn’t help but huff, what an ignorant cow; I hoped not all of my new colleagues would be quite as rude. I decided to ask the person seated at the desk behind her.

  This time the desk’s occupant, a man with blond hair, paused from his work and his fingers hovered over the keyboard.

  ‘Who is in charge?’ I asked hopefully.

  The man’s eyes darted nervously towards me, fingers still poised, before his eyes slid back to the computer screen. He opened his mouth as if to answer but the only sound which came out was an indiscernible, strangulated noise.

  I reached over and touched his arm. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Can I help you?’ interrupted a smooth voice from behind me.

  ‘I think this man is unwell,’ I replied, turning to face the voice.

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ The owner of the voice, a tall man, clicked his fingers in the air and two other men, blond haired and cool eyed rushed to his side. ‘Take Mr Smith to The Lounge immediately.’

  I watched as the two men lifted Mr Smith to his feet, hooked their hands under his elbows, and rapidly swept him away.

  ‘Will he be alright?’ I asked. ‘Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Claudia Watermaine. I’m due to start today.’

  The man peered down at me, his eyes unreadable. ‘Don’t worry about Mr Smith. I’ve been expecting you, I’m James Camberton.’

  ‘Gosh,’ I stammered, ‘I hadn’t expected to be seeing you. A manager at the very most but certainly not the chief executive of the whole company!’

  ‘Enough.’ James held a silencing hand in the air. ‘Follow me.’

  I tried to take in the rest of the office as I trotted after him. I felt something was strange about James Camberton and it took me until we had reached the end of the office before I realised what it was. James, striding before me, stood out because, like me, his hair and eyes were dark. Without exception all the other employees I’d passed had pale hair and cool, grey eyes.

  ‘Miss
Watermaine,’ James stopped outside of another white door, again devoid of any features. ‘Your induction will take place soon.’ He shook up his thick shirt cuff and consulted a silver watch on his left wrist. ‘You shouldn’t have to wait too long.’

  ‘Am I the only new member of staff?’

  James turned those unreadable eyes to me once again. ‘No.’

  ‘What exactly does this position involve?’

  James laid a heavy hand on one of my shoulders and his touch burned through the thinness of my blouse, searing into my skin like a branding. ‘You are to be a copier.’

  ‘A copy editor?’

  Removing his hand from my shoulder and waving it across the door, which obediently opened, James turned on his heel. ‘Call it as you will. You already signed the pre-agreement form.’

  Had I? When? I couldn’t recall if I’d signed anything in the interview the previous day. I know I hadn’t been super alert but could it have been possible I had signed something without even realising? I stepped blindly into the room and fell gratefully into a surprisingly comfortable, red chair. It seemed ages since I had been off my feet.

  ‘Hello!’

  I blinked, I hadn’t been aware I wasn’t alone. Gradually the rest of the room fell into focus. Red chairs, replicas of the one in which I sat, curved in an arc not dissimilar to the C of the Camberton logo. Two of the chairs were occupied and the inhabitant of the one nearest to me draped across the arm of her chair and leant into mine.

  ‘Hello!’ She eagerly stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Amie, this is exciting isn’t it?’

  I smiled warmly and introduced myself. ‘I don’t know if I’d call it exciting, strange more like.’

  ‘Strange?’ Amie repeated.

  I frowned. ‘Didn’t you meet James Camberton?’

  Amie nodded enthusiastically and even her copper curled hair wiggled. ‘Oh, yeah. He’s one hot bloke for sure.’ She made fanning gestures at her face.

  I laughed. ‘Hot? I think he seems indifferent. I imagine he demands impossibly high standards and is a complete tyrant if things don’t go his way.’

  ‘It sounds like we met different people. He was nothing but nice to me.’

  ‘Tall with dark hair and black eyes?’

  Amie crowed. ‘Yeah, that’s him alright. When he touched my shoulder I could’ve ripped his clothes off and jumped him right there and then!’

  ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree regarding the merits of James Camberton,’ I said. ‘Have you spoken to anyone else while you’ve been here?’

  Amie shook her head. ‘No, James met me at the door and honestly, I only had eyes for his bum as I followed him!’ She broke off into a fit of giggles.

  ‘I did.’ The other occupant in the room spoke up softly. ‘I spoke to a woman but she just ignored me!’

  ‘I tried to,’ I said, ‘but the first woman I approached just ignored me. I didn’t know whether she was being deliberately rude or if she was up to her eyeballs in work.’

  ‘The exact same thing happened to me.’ The quiet woman’s pale, green eyes twinkled.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t catch your name.’ I wondered whether she had introduced herself but I hadn’t heard.

  ‘That’s because I hadn’t said. I’m Jane.’

  We were interrupted by the door swishing open and the re-emergence of James Camberton.

  ‘Miss Haverstock.’ James gestured towards the door. ‘Follow me.’ He swept from the room.

  Amie rose to her feet. ‘Well, ladies, I’ll see you later.’

  ‘You’d better hurry if you want to keep up with him,’ I replied with a laugh.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be close enough behind to have another good view of his peachy backside!’ Amie cackled as she left the room.

  ‘What position are you here for?’ I asked, turning my attention to Jane.

  Jane shrugged. ‘This may sound silly but I’m not really sure. I had the interview yesterday and was offered the job this morning so here I am. I think it’s some kind of copier, maybe a copy editor.’

  ‘Me too, that’s strange. Maybe all three of us will be working together.’

  Jane coughed lightly and shrugged. ‘Honestly, I’m finding the whole experience slightly odd but I desperately need the money. Camberton are reputed to pay really well.’

  ‘Snap,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been to ten interviews in the past two months but this was the only one I received a follow-up letter from. It is strange here.’ I surveyed the white room. ‘Did you notice all the people have blond hair? And the doors don’t have handles?’

  Jane nodded thoughtfully and she had just opened her mouth to reply when we were, once again, interrupted by the opening of the door.

  ‘Miss King.’ James’ large frame filled the doorway. ‘Follow me.’

  Jane rose to her sensibly clad feet and her green eyes rested upon me for a moment. ‘Good luck,’ she said before calmly following James’ retreating back.

  I waited impatiently for what seemed an eternity; maybe it only seemed long because I was alone in the vast room, small against its huge white walls which reached to a high ceiling of glass. I felt awkward sat on the edge of the arc of empty red chairs, their vibrancy incongruous with all other décor I’d witnessed throughout the building.

  I glanced at my watch and with a start realised a whole hour had passed since Jane had been taken for her induction. I couldn’t help but wonder why I had been left for longer than the other two. Had James Camberton decided to withdraw the job offer?

  I rose as the door swished open and I waited for James to enter the room. ‘Miss Watermaine.’ He indicated for me to follow him with a slight toss of his head.

  ‘Will I be able to have a break soon?’ I asked. ‘I am feeling rather hungry.’ My stomach growled embarrassingly in confirmation. I groaned and peered down at my shoes, allowing the curtain of my hair to cover my hot cheeks.

  Neat black shoes slid into view opposite the scuffed toes of my own. I jumped as James’ finger gently lifted my chin and, holding my breath, my own eyes peered into the swirl of his.

  ‘Don’t be ashamed.’ James’ voice was soft and smooth like liquid caramel. ‘While you are here I can assure you that will be the one and only time you will ever be embarrassed in such a manner.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked boldly. ‘Do you only allow one mistake before sacking your staff?’

  James smiled gently. ‘No, we cater for all of our workers needs. You will want for nothing.’ He gestured for me to step into yet another white room.

  One wall was covered entirely with mirrors which stretched from floor to ceiling and I paused to check my reflection. My dark hair was dishevelled from the countless times I had raked my hands through it while I waited for my induction.

  ‘Do you have a staff canteen?’ I asked, still thinking about my stomach.

  James shook his head.

  ‘I’ll have to go into the centre then. I bet all the best sandwiches have been snatched up by now. All that will be left,’ I continued gloomily, ‘will be the boring ones like egg and watercress or chickpea wraps.’

  ‘Miss Watermaine,’ James interrupted me. ‘Claudia.’

  All thoughts of sandwiches and wraps fell from my head the moment I heard my forename upon his lips.

  ‘Please come here.’ James held out his hand.

  ‘Pardon?’ I wondered if I had misheard.

  ‘Claudia, come here.’

  ‘What? To you?’

  James nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re not supposed to be questioning me.’

  I wanted to place my hand in his but there was something holding me back, a kind of niggle in the back of my mind. ‘Why are you now being so friendly?’ I asked. ‘You were indifferent, rude almost, when we first met.’

  ‘Claudia, you misread me.’ James splayed his hands in front of him. ‘Claudia.’ His dark eyes found mine.

  When I looked down, my hands were intertwined with his. His fingers b
urnt with the same sensation I had experienced when he had earlier placed a hand on my shoulder. I tried to ease my hand free from his grasp but he was too strong.

  ‘You’re hurting me!’ I gasped.

  James’ eyes, which had appeared black before, now shone bright, dancing and illuminating his whole face. ‘Don’t fight,’ he instructed.

  ‘Fight what?’ I wailed. ‘Let go of me!’

  ‘Claudia.’

  ‘Get off me! What is this, some kind of weird come-on?’

  ‘Claudia.’ His voice wove around my head.

  ‘Let go of my hands!’ I yelled. ‘Or I’ll kick you!’

  ‘Claudia.’

  Finally James released his hold on me and I crashed to my knees. The palms of my hands were blistered, red, and cracked open. ‘What have you done? What did you put on my hands? I need to see a doctor!’

  James blinked down at me from his vantage point. ‘I am taking care of you,’ he said patiently as if talking to a small child. ‘You will neither want for, nor need, anything else in your life ever again.’

  ‘You’re crazy! You burnt my hands!’ I trembled uncontrollably; I had never been more frightened in my whole life.

  ‘Claudia, don’t fight it.’

  ‘Fight what?’ I demanded, bursting into tears. ‘You’re the only thing I need to be fighting right now, you psycho!’

  Silently, James moved to the back of the room where a single, white chair rested against the wall, and slowly lowered his long limbs onto it.

  Tears ran down my face, I knew my make-up would have streaked my cheeks but I didn’t even care. My hands throbbed, the intense heat unexpectedly leaving them and travelling up my arms into a sharp pain which seared from my chest to my stomach, a thousand times stronger than the feeling which had tormented my hands.

  ‘Help me,’ my voice sounded croaky as I stretched a hand out. ‘Please.’ A sudden convulsion forced me onto my back and I screamed. ‘What’s happening to me? What have you done?’