to the bathroom mirror.
‘And that’s the sort of person we need,’ he said, smiling.
The interview was almost over. Liam had gone through my carefully worded lies one by one and I’d answered him as though I’d lived through each of them. Practice makes perfect, as Mum used to say – except she was talking about eating spaghetti without slurping.
‘One last question, Saffron. Where do you see yourself five years from now?’
Good question. And one I hadn’t predicted.
‘In your job, hopefully.’
‘I can’t argue with that,’ he said, unable to suppress a grin.
He shuffled his papers together, then moved his chair back so he could stand up.
‘Something about you … seems familiar …’
I dropped my head, took a second to get a grip.
‘I’ve got that sort of face,’ I said as I too stood up.
Liam walked back to the reception area with me. The next interviewee was already waiting, hunched over and picking his nails. No contest!
‘We’ll be in touch by the end of the week,’ said Liam, shaking my hand.
‘Thank you very much,’ I replied, meeting his eyes – green flecked with brown.
You can tell a lot from someone’s eyes. I’d ticked all his boxes, employment and otherwise. I glanced down at the new me – black trousers, black brogues, grey silky top – the whole look copied from Grazia magazine. Being Saffron Anderson was starting to feel good.
As I pushed open the door and felt the May breeze warm on my face, I wondered what he thought he saw in my eyes … Probably exactly what I let him. Keen. Organised. Personable. Bright. Pity he couldn’t see any deeper, but then dark eyes are so much less transparent.
I walked home, all the way up Woodhouse Lane and through the park, convinced that I’d soon be the Customer Services Agent for a worldwide courier company. Poor Liam was going to end up regretting his decision. Shame – he seemed like a nice guy.
I knew I shouldn’t be getting ahead of myself. Thejob was only the first step, but it felt so good to be wrestling back control.
It had been a tricky few weeks, finding my feet in Leeds, but I was back on task.
28
No one was in. Good. I made a cup of tea and took it up to my room. Sharing a house wasn’t ideal, but the fact that Freddie was so casual definitely was.
I had three hours until I was due at the pub for another evening of being chatted up by students and wiping up slops. I hated every second of it, but if Liam liked me as much as I thought he did, I wouldn’t be doing it for much longer.
I fished my seventh-hand (according to the names inside the cover) chemistry book out from under the bed and got cracking. No way could I get talking to a proper chemist without appearing to have at least some idea of redox equilibria and condensation polymerisation.
I was finished with technology and had gone back to basics. The internet, email, phones – they all left traces. Even if you were clever – zig-zagging the globe, leaping from server to server – there was no guarantee you were either invisible or anonymous. If I even tiptoed around the web I was risking everything. I’d single-handedly had security organisations on both sides of the Atlantic on the hop. People were lookingfor me. Looking hard. I needed to stay hidden, and that meant staying away from chatrooms and hackers, and browsing books not HTML.
I’d made two other decisions. I was going it alone – look where my faith in Sayge and Dan had got me – and this time it was going to be fast. It was twenty months since the killing. A countermove was long overdue.
Too soon, the key in the front door announced that Freddie was back.
‘Saff!’ he yelled up to me. ‘You in?’
‘No!’ I yelled back, shoving the book away.
‘Very funny.’ He was already loping up the stairs for his daily dose of sarcasm. Not that I minded him. He was twenty-one – like Saffron! – and easy to get along with.
‘How’d it go?’ he asked.
‘Good,’ I
‘And that’s the sort of person we need,’ he said, smiling.
The interview was almost over. Liam had gone through my carefully worded lies one by one and I’d answered him as though I’d lived through each of them. Practice makes perfect, as Mum used to say – except she was talking about eating spaghetti without slurping.
‘One last question, Saffron. Where do you see yourself five years from now?’
Good question. And one I hadn’t predicted.
‘In your job, hopefully.’
‘I can’t argue with that,’ he said, unable to suppress a grin.
He shuffled his papers together, then moved his chair back so he could stand up.
‘Something about you … seems familiar …’
I dropped my head, took a second to get a grip.
‘I’ve got that sort of face,’ I said as I too stood up.
Liam walked back to the reception area with me. The next interviewee was already waiting, hunched over and picking his nails. No contest!
‘We’ll be in touch by the end of the week,’ said Liam, shaking my hand.
‘Thank you very much,’ I replied, meeting his eyes – green flecked with brown.
You can tell a lot from someone’s eyes. I’d ticked all his boxes, employment and otherwise. I glanced down at the new me – black trousers, black brogues, grey silky top – the whole look copied from Grazia magazine. Being Saffron Anderson was starting to feel good.
As I pushed open the door and felt the May breeze warm on my face, I wondered what he thought he saw in my eyes … Probably exactly what I let him. Keen. Organised. Personable. Bright. Pity he couldn’t see any deeper, but then dark eyes are so much less transparent.
I walked home, all the way up Woodhouse Lane and through the park, convinced that I’d soon be the Customer Services Agent for a worldwide courier company. Poor Liam was going to end up regretting his decision. Shame – he seemed like a nice guy.
I knew I shouldn’t be getting ahead of myself. Thejob was only the first step, but it felt so good to be wrestling back control.
It had been a tricky few weeks, finding my feet in Leeds, but I was back on task.
28
No one was in. Good. I made a cup of tea and took it up to my room. Sharing a house wasn’t ideal, but the fact that Freddie was so casual definitely was.
I had three hours until I was due at the pub for another evening of being chatted up by students and wiping up slops. I hated every second of it, but if Liam liked me as much as I thought he did, I wouldn’t be doing it for much longer.
I fished my seventh-hand (according to the names inside the cover) chemistry book out from under the bed and got cracking. No way could I get talking to a proper chemist without appearing to have at least some idea of redox equilibria and condensation polymerisation.
I was finished with technology and had gone back to basics. The internet, email, phones – they all left traces. Even if you were clever – zig-zagging the globe, leaping from server to server – there was no guarantee you were either invisible or anonymous. If I even tiptoed around the web I was risking everything. I’d single-handedly had security organisations on both sides of the Atlantic on the hop. People were lookingfor me. Looking hard. I needed to stay hidden, and that meant staying away from chatrooms and hackers, and browsing books not HTML.
I’d made two other decisions. I was going it alone – look where my faith in Sayge and Dan had got me – and this time it was going to be fast. It was twenty months since the killing. A countermove was long overdue.
Too soon, the key in the front door announced that Freddie was back.
‘Saff!’ he yelled up to me. ‘You in?’
‘No!’ I yelled back, shoving the book away.
‘Very funny.’ He was already loping up the stairs for his daily dose of sarcasm. Not that I minded him. He was twenty-one – like Saffron! – and easy to get along with.
‘How’d it go?’ he asked.
‘Good,’ I
Similar Books
