Benjamin doing with herself, then?’ Alex leaned over, trying to look at the screen, and I closed Dan’s message at once.
‘Amanda Benson,’ I corrected him. ‘The usual boring stuff.’
‘What, married, two kids, six hamsters and a drink problem?’
‘Something like that,’ I muttered.
Add Your Details , a link was inviting me. I clicked on it and started typing my own message.
Went to university in Brighton, then travelled for a year. Came back to good old south London and worked in sales before I met my partner Alex and we had our two sprogs – Molly (2) and Nathan (five months) . . .
I stopped. God, it sounded dull. No, I sounded dull. What the hell would Danny think when he read that? He’d probably thank his lucky stars he’d got away up the motorway to Manchester when he’d had the chance.
I deleted all of it. Maybe I should just add my name, forget the details. Then I thought back to my conversation with Anna. Maybe I could just . . . embellish a little . . .
Lived in Brighton for a few years, doing my degree. Then I travelled around the world, stopping in Vietnam to work in an orphanage for two years.
I giggled out loud at the enormity of my lie. The travelling bit was true enough but the only work I’d done had been a few crappy fruit-picking jobs in Australia and New Zealand to raise some extra dollars. Voluntary work in South-East Asia . . . forget it. I’d been too busy bronzing myself, climbing mountains, haggling over sarongs and smoking the mind-bending grass. I sighed nostalgically. It had been such a great time.
‘Who have you found now?’
‘Nobody. You didn’t know her,’ I said, typing away again.
Came back and did an MBA before getting a job in finance . . .
No. Too dull – and far too unrealistic.
Came back and retrained at King’s. Am now a leading brain surgeon . . .
Even worse. Everyone would know that was a lie. It had to be something at least on the right side of credible.
Came back and did three months’ work experience on Newsnight, before being offered a permanent place as a researcher.
Yes, good.
Made the jump to Channel 4 two years ago as . . .
I racked my brains. What would everyone have heard of ?
. . . a producer of Countdown . . .
Absolutely no way. Terrible idea!
. . . a producer on Big Brother.
Yes! Definitely yes. Then, as a nudge to Danny, I added:
No dogs, but own teeth and GSOH.
There. I sent my details away to the database and a message flashed up, telling me my name and message had been added to our school board. For some weird reason, my hands were trembling.
Four
I put the laptop away and finished my coffee, trying to imagine Danny’s face if he logged on to the site again and saw my name. He’d be impressed, I was sure. Fancy Sadie Morrison working for Channel 4! he’d think. Mind you, she was always creative at school. The paintings she did for her Art A level portfolio – brilliant, they were, especially the portrait of me. Good at English, too. Should have known she’d end up doing something in the media.
I picked up the pile of weekend newspapers that I hadn’t so much as glanced at yet, and suddenly felt as if I’d been caught cheating in an exam. First Jack, now Danny. What was I like with my fantasy jobs?
The last job I’d had before I went on maternity leave with Molly had been as a sales manager for a small publishing company. It was fun, sure, and there were lots of perks, and some people – my mum, for example – seemed to think it was terribly glamorous. Which it wasn’t. Not as glamorous as being a TV producer by any means. Still, it was something. A job. I had been an independent working woman, with my Next trouser suits and company car. Needless to say, it all seemed a very long time ago now.
The ‘Jobs and Money’ section of the paper was on top of the pile, and, on impulse, I grabbed it and started flicking through the ads. Just to see what I could do, you know. Just to remind myself that I could still get an
‘Amanda Benson,’ I corrected him. ‘The usual boring stuff.’
‘What, married, two kids, six hamsters and a drink problem?’
‘Something like that,’ I muttered.
Add Your Details , a link was inviting me. I clicked on it and started typing my own message.
Went to university in Brighton, then travelled for a year. Came back to good old south London and worked in sales before I met my partner Alex and we had our two sprogs – Molly (2) and Nathan (five months) . . .
I stopped. God, it sounded dull. No, I sounded dull. What the hell would Danny think when he read that? He’d probably thank his lucky stars he’d got away up the motorway to Manchester when he’d had the chance.
I deleted all of it. Maybe I should just add my name, forget the details. Then I thought back to my conversation with Anna. Maybe I could just . . . embellish a little . . .
Lived in Brighton for a few years, doing my degree. Then I travelled around the world, stopping in Vietnam to work in an orphanage for two years.
I giggled out loud at the enormity of my lie. The travelling bit was true enough but the only work I’d done had been a few crappy fruit-picking jobs in Australia and New Zealand to raise some extra dollars. Voluntary work in South-East Asia . . . forget it. I’d been too busy bronzing myself, climbing mountains, haggling over sarongs and smoking the mind-bending grass. I sighed nostalgically. It had been such a great time.
‘Who have you found now?’
‘Nobody. You didn’t know her,’ I said, typing away again.
Came back and did an MBA before getting a job in finance . . .
No. Too dull – and far too unrealistic.
Came back and retrained at King’s. Am now a leading brain surgeon . . .
Even worse. Everyone would know that was a lie. It had to be something at least on the right side of credible.
Came back and did three months’ work experience on Newsnight, before being offered a permanent place as a researcher.
Yes, good.
Made the jump to Channel 4 two years ago as . . .
I racked my brains. What would everyone have heard of ?
. . . a producer of Countdown . . .
Absolutely no way. Terrible idea!
. . . a producer on Big Brother.
Yes! Definitely yes. Then, as a nudge to Danny, I added:
No dogs, but own teeth and GSOH.
There. I sent my details away to the database and a message flashed up, telling me my name and message had been added to our school board. For some weird reason, my hands were trembling.
Four
I put the laptop away and finished my coffee, trying to imagine Danny’s face if he logged on to the site again and saw my name. He’d be impressed, I was sure. Fancy Sadie Morrison working for Channel 4! he’d think. Mind you, she was always creative at school. The paintings she did for her Art A level portfolio – brilliant, they were, especially the portrait of me. Good at English, too. Should have known she’d end up doing something in the media.
I picked up the pile of weekend newspapers that I hadn’t so much as glanced at yet, and suddenly felt as if I’d been caught cheating in an exam. First Jack, now Danny. What was I like with my fantasy jobs?
The last job I’d had before I went on maternity leave with Molly had been as a sales manager for a small publishing company. It was fun, sure, and there were lots of perks, and some people – my mum, for example – seemed to think it was terribly glamorous. Which it wasn’t. Not as glamorous as being a TV producer by any means. Still, it was something. A job. I had been an independent working woman, with my Next trouser suits and company car. Needless to say, it all seemed a very long time ago now.
The ‘Jobs and Money’ section of the paper was on top of the pile, and, on impulse, I grabbed it and started flicking through the ads. Just to see what I could do, you know. Just to remind myself that I could still get an
Similar Books
