Follow My Lead Episode 03
Follow My Lead
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- 5. Follow My Lead Episode 05
- 6. Follow My Lead Episode 06
That resolve lasted till she walked into the intense aromatic cloud of coffee and spices drifting out of her neighbourhood deli.
Her rapid pace stalled.
“You have to eat,” she told her reflection in the window.
She stepped in long enough to buy ingredients for a tagine supper.
At home, she stowed her yoga gear and busied herself in the kitchen, relishing the changing aromas as she blended the spices and added them to the tagine.
The explosion of scents took her right back to Morocco, where she had learned to cook the dish when travelling years ago.
She paused, smiling to herself at the memories of the vivid colours, the intense heat, the exotic music.
She’d always meant to go back, but had never quite got round to it. One day.
She hummed contentedly as she worked.
Lydia loved cooking, and was adventurous when she had time.
Not today, though. With her deadline pressing, this would be the abbreviated version of a dish she would usually start the day before.
She really should be better organised and plan ahead, she mused.
Once it was on the hob, she was ready to sit down at her desk.
The meal would be ready in two hours, and so would she.
Opening her laptop, she switched from cook to writer mode.
She checked the clock in the corner of the screen and nodded.
She could still do it. She’d never missed a deadline yet.
Her inbox showed a flurry of e-mails from colleagues, but she ignored them for now.
“Where was I?”
She had made a start on writing the piece this morning.
She opened up the file of notes she’d compiled on the surge of new artists finding recognition, and was reading them when a new notification pinged into the corner of her screen.
She peered at it.
It was a new appointment for her diary – a video call this afternoon with her boss, Basil.
Lydia smiled, feeling a frisson of anticipation.
She’d heard rumours of a new project on the horizon – a niche publication aimed at the arts.
It was her area of interest, and she was hoping to be asked to head the project.
Could this meeting be that invitation?
Danielle eyed the blackbird, perched high on a curtain rail.
“I’m not sure of birds.”
The plea for help had come from her friend, Stu, who was at the village hall with a dilemma on his hands.
He helped out as a caretaker at the hall, and he’d only popped in as he was passing. He worked as a chimney sweep and was between calls.
“I remembered about the dripping tap and thought it would only take me two minutes.” He laughed. “Then I saw Mr Blackbird.
“I expect he got in through there.” He pointed to a smashed window-pane.
“I’d better add that to my to-do list.”
They watched the bird do a circuit of the room, then return to his perch.
“Any ideas? Like I said, you’re good with animals.”
The bird was circling again and Danielle followed him with her eyes.
Yes, she was good with dogs. But a bird?
She flinched as it again dashed itself against one of the windows, desperately trying to escape.
“Poor thing. Let’s start by opening the doors and windows,” she suggested.
“With luck he’ll find his own way out.”
With doors and windows thrown wide, Stu started to flap his arms.
“Shoo!” he cried, but Danielle grabbed his arm.
“You’ll terrify him. Come over here.”
She drew him to the corner furthest from the door and waited, crossing her fingers for luck.
After a moment, the bird performed another couple of circuits of the room.
Then, with a final low-level swoop, he darted through the doorway into the sunshine outside.
“Quick – get the windows,” she urged Stu as she ran to close the door.
“I knew you were the woman I needed!” he said, laughing. “I’d better see to that window…”