Chapter 8: Shopping Sunday
Sunday morning arrived with a quiet kind of triumph.
Elena had the envelope in her hand; her final paycheck from the cleaning company. It wasn't much. Nowhere near enough to solve everything. But it was something. It was proof of effort, of exhaustion turned into currency. Proof that hours of scrubbing floors, wiping glass, and dragging bin liners through narrow hallways had not gone unnoticed — at least by the books.
She stood by the window, the pale sun creeping over the rooftops. The air outside looked cold but clean, with soft rays breaking through the patchy clouds. Jamie was still asleep, curled into the blankets like a small cat, one arm dangling off the mattress. His hair stuck out in every direction, and he mumbled something about rockets under his breath. She smiled and tiptoed to the kitchenette, careful not to wake him.
She opened her notebook, the one with all the budgets, lists, and crossed-out numbers. She'd already accounted for rent, Jamie's school lunches, and the bus fare for the week. That left her with just over £73.40. Not much. But she was going shopping; and this time, not just for food.
This time, she needed to look like she belonged.
In a place with desks. With lighting that didn't flicker. With people who called each other by first names and sent emails instead of barking instructions from down the hall.
The Shops
The small high street was already stirring. The charity shops opened early on Sundays, especially after payday weekends.
The pavement was wet from the night's drizzle, and the scent of fresh bread wafted from a corner bakery. Elena walked briskly, a folded tote bag under her arm, her purse clutched tightly in her coat pocket. She had a goal; essentials only. Nothing flashy. Nothing wasteful. She wasn't shopping for a new identity. Just… clothes that wouldn't embarrass her on her first day.
The first store smelled faintly of mothballs and lemon disinfectant. The familiar scent made her think of her grandmother's hallway closet — a small, strange comfort. She greeted the woman behind the counter, a kind older lady with wire-frame glasses and a mug of tea in her hand.
Elena flicked through the racks slowly, methodically. No rushing. This money had to stretch.
"Looking for anything in particular, love?" the woman asked.
Elena hesitated. "Office clothes. Not fancy. Just… neat. Clean."
The woman smiled. "We've got a good lot from last week's donation drive. Come round the back. I'll show you."
They had a separate rail of barely-used business wear. Blouses, pencil skirts, cardigans; mostly in navy, black, and cream. Elena ran her fingers across the fabrics, checking seams, buttons, tags. She'd done this before — many times — and she'd learned what to look for: loose threads, missing fasteners, stretched collars. She checked each item with the quiet expertise of someone who didn't have the luxury of mistakes.
She found:
• A white button-up blouse – £3
• A navy knit cardigan – £2.50
• A pair of knee-length black pencil skirts – £4
• Low-heeled shoes, barely worn – £5
• A second-hand tote bag that looked nearly new – £3
She added it up silently. £17.50 so far.
She paused at a soft grey coat. Not branded, but warm. A bit oversized, but elegant in a modest way. A coat that said "I belong here" without shouting it.
£9. She ran the number in her mind.
Total: £26.50
She tried everything on in the back. The blouse was snug but not tight. The cardigan was warm. The shoes pinched slightly, but nothing she couldn't manage. She did a small twirl in the mirror, then stopped, feeling a bit foolish — but smiling.
Elena stood in front of the mirror, shoulders squared. She didn't look rich or powerful. But she looked ready. And for the first time in a long while, she looked like she belonged in a place with windows, not just bleach-stained halls.
She folded everything neatly and carried it to the counter.
"You've got good taste," the woman said, scanning the tags.
Elena gave a soft smile. "Just trying to get started."
Something for Jamie
She stepped into the children's charity shop two blocks down. The prices here were lower, the shelves more chaotic. Bright plastic toys, chipped board games, and tiny shoes filled every spare inch of space. The ceiling fans hummed overhead.
She knew Jamie didn't need anything new right now. But he'd been wearing the same jumpers since last year. He never asked for anything, never complained. That made her want to buy him something even more.
She found:
• A green hoodie with a space shuttle print – £2
• A navy long-sleeved tee – £1.50
• A warm pair of track bottoms – £2
The total: £5.50
That left her with a little over £41.40
As she left, she passed a bakery with warm air curling out from the open door. The glass was slightly fogged with steam. People inside were laughing softly, sipping coffee from paper cups.
She paused.
A little treat. Just one.
Inside, the air was sweet with sugar and fresh dough. She picked out two warm pastries filled with apple and cinnamon and a mini loaf of seeded bread for the week.
£3.90.
Elena left the shop carrying her bag carefully, smiling as the steam curled through the thin paper bag. She hadn't had fresh pastries in weeks. And Jamie… he'd light up like a firework.
Back Home
Jamie was still in his pyjamas when she returned, nose pressed to the window.
"You're back!"
"I come bearing gifts," she said, lifting the pastry bag.
His eyes lit up.
"Real ones?"
She handed him the pastry. "Still warm."
He took it with both hands and sank into the couch, biting in, eyes wide with delight. "It's amazing."
She unpacked the clothes slowly while he ate. When she showed him the hoodie, he gasped.
"That's awesome! Like, space awesome!"
"I thought it looked like something you'd like."
He pulled it over his pyjamas immediately. "Do I look like an astronaut?"
"You look better."
...
The Preparation
Later that evening, after folding and putting away the clothes, Elena turned to her final task: meal prep.
Monday morning would come fast. And she didn't want to scramble before her first day.
In the kitchen, she laid out her ingredients; rice, lentils, chopped carrots, and half a can of chickpeas. Simple. Healthy. Filling. She moved with the quiet rhythm of someone who had done this many times — someone who had learned the art of making "not enough" into "just enough."
She cooked quietly while Jamie sketched at the table, drawing rockets and stars.
"Are you nervous Lena?" he asked suddenly, looking up.
"A bit," she admitted. "It's a new place. New people."
"Do they know how good you are?"
Elena blinked. "Not yet."
"They will."
She smiled and stirred the pot.
Once the meal cooled, she portioned it into two containers; one for lunch, one for dinner if she came home late. She sliced a piece of the seeded bread and packed it alongside.
She set it all in the fridge, labeling it with a sticky note:
"Monday – Don't forget."
She took a breath and sat down for a moment, letting the silence settle around her. Outside, the wind picked up gently. A gull cried far off over the rooftops.
....
Quiet Moments
Jamie had gone to bed early, worn out from painting and pastries. Elena stood at the kitchen sink, hands deep in soapy water, scrubbing the last of the dishes. She caught her reflection in the window glass; damp hair, soft eyes, and a faint smile.
Tomorrow wouldn't be easy. The position — Junior Administrative Assistant — wasn't glamorous. It involved running between departments, fetching documents, updating internal sheets, printing meeting agendas, helping office assistants. But it was indoors. It was clean. It was a chance.
And the company — Elcor Group — was a real name. A multinational firm with branches across Europe and Asia, known for its work in logistics, digital transformation, and corporate consulting. She had researched it for hours when she got the interview. She'd memorised the elevator pitch, even practiced answers in the mirror.
Now it was real.
And it was hers to prove herself.
Tonight was for folding clothes, sealing lids on containers, and whispering promises into the quiet.
You've made it this far.
Keep going.