Starlight on the Palace Pier: The very best kind of romance for the Christmas season in 2018. Tracy Corbett

damp from yesterday’s downpour and now the wind had decided to join forces in annoying her, flipping her hood back as she headed up the long driveway towards the Starlight Playhouse. She gave up the battle and let go of the hood; it served no purpose this morning other than to risk strangling her.

      Despite the challenges of a bumpy bus ride and the arrival of more rain, she reached the playhouse with a few minutes to spare. It was her first morning working in an office. Her big chance. An opportunity to put theory into practice and test out the skills she’d learnt on her degree course. She was determined to put her insecurities behind her and not think about her past misdemeanours, her lack of workplace experience, or the imposing surroundings. Instead, she’d focus on the task in hand and prove to the world that she wasn’t a liability, but a useful person to have around. Excellent plan.

      But as she climbed the stone steps leading to the front door, her foot slipped on the wet and she lost her balance. She tried to grab the railing, but her hand slid off the slimy surface and she found herself tumbling backwards. She landed with a thud at the bottom, knocking the wind from her lungs. Pain hit her in several places. Hard concrete dug into her back. Her right hand was twisted beneath her.

      For a moment, she didn’t move. She couldn’t – it hurt too much. Rain dripped onto her face, her hand stung like crazy and her throat constricted with self-pity. Her aunty and cousin had a habit of falling over, or tripping up, but she’d always considered herself fortunate not to have inherited the family’s ‘clumsy’ gene. But maybe she had? It had just taken longer to surface.

      A more likely explanation was that she was suffering with new-job jitters.

      Rolling onto her front, she dragged herself upright. She was soaking wet, covered in dirt and bleeding. She glanced down at the damage. The top layer of skin was missing from the palm of her right hand. Just what she needed.

      She limped up the steps, her hand shaking as she opened the ornate wooden door. Thoughts of strong tea, disinfectant, and a set of waterproof plasters kept her going. But logic should have warned her luck wasn’t with her this morning. As she unbuttoned her mud-splattered coat trying not to dirty the floor, a cold chill tickled the back of her neck.

      Sensing movement, she turned sharply and came face-to-face with… Boggin’ hell! The Woman-in-Black. She’d seen the stage play; she knew her fate. Death awaited anyone who saw the apparition. Except, on closer study the woman didn’t appear to be a ghost. For a start, there was a strong waft of perfume radiating off her and her attire wasn’t eighteenth-century widow, more twenty-first-century couture.

      ‘May I help you?’ The woman’s gaze homed in.

      ‘I’m Jodi Simmons. I start work here today.’

      The woman’s expression was as sharp as the edges of her black asymmetric bob. ‘I doubt that very much. I’m the front-of-house manager. If a new member of staff had been taken on, I think I would know.’

      Okay. How was she supposed to respond to that?

      And then a horrible thought occurred. Maybe Carolyn had changed her mind? Or worse, she’d forgotten she’d made Jodi the offer? Oh, hell.

      Thankfully, her new boss appeared at that moment. ‘Darling, girl. Welcome to the Starlight Playhouse.’

      Carolyn Elliot-Wentworth was still a force of nature – tall, blonde and beautiful. She was dressed in a floaty summer dress with a long woollen cardigan shoved over the top. The belt of the cardigan had come loose and was dragging on the floor behind her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her hair was knotted at one side, but she was smiling and looked genuinely happy to see Jodi – even if there was a slight falseness to her exuberance, as though her flamboyance was driven by an external force.

      She ushered Jodi into the reception area. ‘Come inside, you’re drenched.’

      Jodi experienced a rush of relief. It hadn’t been a horrible misunderstanding. She was expected. ‘Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mrs Elliot-Wentworth. It’s a real privilege to be working at the playhouse.’ Which was entirely true. Quite apart from gaining some much-needed work experience, it was the most amazing building she’d ever seen…damp patches and musty smell aside.

      ‘Please, call me Carolyn.’

      The Woman-in-Black didn’t look happy. ‘May I have a word, madam?’

      Madam? Jodi wondered whether she should call Carolyn that too?

      ‘Can it wait, Vivienne? I need to show Jodi around and introduce her to the team, and then I have a meeting.’ She paused. ‘At least, I think I have a meeting. Do I have a meeting?’

      When Carolyn looked directly at her, Jodi blinked, wondering if it was a trick question. ‘Err…I don’t know.’

      Carolyn’s frown indicated this was the wrong answer.

      Jodi swallowed. ‘Maybe it’s noted in your diary? Would you like me to check?’

      ‘Oh, I don’t keep a diary. It’s all in here.’ Carolyn tapped the side of her head.

      Clearly it wasn’t, but Jodi wasn’t about to point that out.

      Thankfully, Vivienne diverted Carolyn’s attention. ‘The accountant has phoned again, madam. He’s yet to receive the last five months’ accounts. This is the seventh time he’s called in the last week.’

      Carolyn waved her hand about. ‘He’s so pushy. I’ve told him I’m dealing with it. Tell him I’ll call him back later today…or maybe tomorrow. Thursday at the latest.’ She went to walk off and then abruptly turned back. ‘Oh, silly me. I haven’t made the necessary introductions. Jodi, darling. This is Vivienne King, our front-of-house manager. And Vivienne, this is Jodi. She’s our new business manager.’

      Jodi smiled.

      The Woman-in-Black didn’t.

      Carolyn lowered her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘Vivienne helps me with the paperwork sometimes. Do let her know if you need anything. I’m sure she’d be happy to assist.’

      Jodi seriously doubted that.

      A feeling compounded when the woman’s beady eyes took in her state of disarray. ‘You seem to have met with an accident.’

      Jodi followed the woman’s gaze down to her muddied coat. ‘I’m sorry, yes. I fell.’ When she glanced back up, the woman was staring at her hair, which had probably started to frizz thanks to the rain.

      ‘So it would appear.’ In a movement so smooth it was almost feline, the woman turned her back on her. ‘You’ll find a sink in the toilets adjacent to the café, Ms Simmons. Please ensure you clean up after you.’ A waft of perfume filled the air as she glided away, disappearing into the shadows in a manner that would make Mrs Danvers seem positively warm.

      Carolyn took hold of Jodi’s hand. ‘Don’t mind her. She’s a sweetie really.’

      Jodi felt this was highly unlikely, but she was happy to be proved wrong.

      ‘Now, where were we?’ Carolyn gave her another expectant look.

      ‘You were about to show me around and introduce me to the team?’

      ‘Oh, that’s right. I was. This way.’ She hooked her arm through Jodi’s and manoeuvred her down the corridor.

      Jodi had hoped she might be able to stop off at the loos and tidy herself up, but Carolyn seemed to have forgotten her battered state. The stinging in her hand was getting worse, not helped by her new boss gripping it. There was a slight tremor to Carolyn, accompanied by a sweet cloying smell that radiated off her as they walked together. Jodi was no expert, but along with the slightly slurred speech and inconsistent walking pace, she suspected Carolyn still had issues with alcohol.

      They arrived at the café, which was empty. Unsurprising really, considering it was only nine a.m. The noise of a hedge trimmer drew their attention outside. A burly middle-aged man was up a ladder tending to