- CHAPTER FIVE -

- IN WHICH THEY HAVE A RUN IN

. . .

A BEATING PAIN IN the very top of her head had caused Rory to awaken a few days later. She wasn't exactly surprised, a Friday night down in the pub seemed to do that for her, whether she was working or not. Even if it was just the slightest of things, a small, dull ache by her temples forced herself to sit up. Her hair was a knot at the back of her neck, a line of smudged eyeliner running down her rosy cheek.

"Fucking hell." She whined, eyes flickering shut again in the harsh morning light. The words didn't seem to sound right coming from her at all, yet she just felt far too out of it to really know what was leaving her lips.

She had drunk a lot of different alcohols - and the drinks were so cheap they couldn't possibly be that alcoholic. It hadn't hit her during the evening, which was probably what urged her to continue drinking, but it was certainly catching up now.

It was quickly fixed though, and when the girl finally forced herself out of bed and over to the tiny kitchen, muttering incoherent words under her breath. She  swiftly boiled her kettle, a plain white mug being placed beside it and a handful of tea leaves.

She added a teaspoon of honey and a sprinkling of ginger, half a grapefruit being scooped out and placed on a plate. Sadie instantly pounced on her lap the moment she sat down, purring away happily after the girl had finished her mug of tea and began to scratch behind her ears.

Then she prepared a saucer of milk for the very pampered white cat - who had already provided a mouse that morning - before pulling on her thigh-high cream socks, both of which had a mesh rim with flowers on it, and then her black scuffed cargo boots.

Leaving her teacup to soak in the sink, Rory said goodbye to Sadie who had settled on the end of her bed, placing various items in her bag and slipped out of the door.

She knew she was slightly late, but that didn't seem to matter. Because when she appeared at her place of work for the morning - a small bakery with a light blue front door - and entered the premises of the building, she spotted Mrs Wetherbee only just beginning to lie out her assortment of treats for the day.

"Oh, good morning, dearie," Mrs Wetherbee beamed up at the girl. "You're just on time, customers usually come in any moment now."

"Okay, thank goodness, I thought I was late." Rory's head peered over her shoulder as reached up to get an apron off of the line of pegs at the very back of the room. "Well I can run here for a while if you wanted to get those chores done?" She suggested, remembering the reason she'd been asked to help out in the first place.

"Yes, that would be wonderful." The woman looked in the reflection of the glass casing covering the treats, left hand reaching up to untangle her hair before she untied her apron and hung it up where the other one had previously been.

"Here, I'll get that." The Miller girl smiled kindly at the lady, stopping her from rearranging the shelves and sending her on her way out of the shop.

And once she was gone, lilac hat no longer visible behind the Bakery windows, Rory collapsed in the stall behind the counter. She was utterly exhausted after her evening, dark eyes showing no form of life behind them.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, elbowing resting on the counter and arm beginning to get slightly dusty by the layer of icing sugar that littered it. She placed her chin in her palm, black-painted nails resting on her cheek as her gaze scanned a list of notes Mrs Wetherbee had left her.

Nothing on there was particularly new, just simple instructions on a few chores that needed doing and the pastries that would be sold that day. She'd been supplied with a notebook to work out the total price of desserts put together, as well as being directed to the chalkboard of which held the prices of a single treat.

To be quite honest, Rory hadn't exactly expected many customers to come in that morning, having previously been told that they mainly came during the afternoon or on a weekday.

And for the most part no one had been in, just an elderly couple who were picking up a few desserts for their family who was visiting and two young boys.

But then, just as the clock was ticking round to quarter to twelve, the door was pushed open, the tiny silver bell above ringing out and startling the Miller girl out of the dream she had managed to fall into.

Her eyes flickered open, a dazed fade behind them as she listened to the amused chuckle that came from man in front of her. Rory looked up at him, the freckles marked out across his face almost recognisable.

"Lorelai Miller, was it?" The man took a step further into the shop, corners of his lips turned up in an amused smirk as his gaze traced her features "You're the girl living in The Garrison."

"I'd like to put in a wager and say a lot." Rory folded her arms across her stomach, legs propped up on the counter. "But no one calls me Lorelai. I'm more of a Rory. But yes, I suppose you could say that."

"You're not from here." He observed, a look of recognition flickering across his face after he paused for a moment. "You're Billy Kimber's cousin, aren't you?"

"Good observation," She mumbled sarcastically, nodding her head. "Sorry about the damage by the way.. Billy's a bit dramatic."

"Oh, it was nothing, Tom had it cleaned up quickly." The man offered, gaze no longer on her but on the selection of pastries. "I'll have three of them." He nodded to a line of almond dominos on the shelf behind her, grinning once again as she huffed silently and stood from the stall to reach up for them.

"You're one of the Shelbys, right?" She asked, wrapping the dominos up neatly in white wrapping paper, then proceeding to wrap a blue ribbon around it multiple times and tying a bow.

"John Shelby." He nodded, hand delving into his jacket pocket as he watched her pause mid bow, brows furrowing when she continued again without saying anything.

"What an oddly common name," Rory mused, flushing when she realised he'd heard her. But with a glance upwards, she could see he wasn't at all offended. "My father would like your name. My mother, however, would have to get to know you to decide whether your standard or the slightest bit interesting."

It seemed like the man had lost her too her own imagination once before, a dazed glint to her eye as her gaze travelled over the streets outside of the window, her hand moving upwards and drifting towards the lock of hair that had tumbled into her face.

John's tongue began to play with the toothpick between his lips, almost unsure of what she was doing.

"I'm guessing Billy didn't throw to much of a spanner in the works." She began once more. "But if there's anything I can do to make it up to you all then let me know."

"You're already working for us, aren't you?" John asked, more to himself than her, glancing over to the almond dominos that had been passed across the counter to him.

He and his brothers often thought similarly, but mostly not the same. However it seemed at least him and Arthur would both be thinking pretty much the same thing if he were there right now. They had just arrived back from London the night before, both incredibly tired even if they knew the consequences of it.

For the business, they just did the dirty work Thomas didn't do. Which wasn't exactly what either of them had planned when they were given their share of the business. Which left John exhausted when he did eventually return home to his kids.

He had been planning to propose to Lizzie Stark, which he would still hope to do. But with an extra hand around the house until then, wouldn't exactly be turned down by him.

"Do you have any particular obligations apart from working for us?" John began, and Rory's gaze snapped from her focus on something in the window of a near by house. "As in, you're not working here or anything?"

"Well I've been doing the odd thing here and there. That's all just whilst I wait to actually start work, and I do two shifts on Friday and Saturdays in return for the attic." Rory shrugged. "Why?"

"You could help me with my kids, if it isn't too much to ask." John continued. "I'm planning on proposing to this woman, Lizzie, but until I do I just need someone to pick up my youngest from school." Rory looked like she was considering it, and he glanced at his pocket watch before continuing; "It would only be for a few days this week, just until I find the right moment to ask."

"Yeah, sure." Rory smiled, almost bouncing on her heels as she looked up at the man. "I'll let Harry know when I get back, he likes to know I get back in one piece and stuff."

"I see." John nodded, dropping his money onto the counter and picking up the almond dominos. "Would make sense. I'll give you the times on Monday, yeah?"

"Yes - sure." Rory's dark eyes glistened with joy, legs getting propped up again on the counter as John nodded and then headed towards the door.

"You're a life saviour." He replied, leaving through the bakery door and wondering if Rory had already forgotten she was doing this as a favour.

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