Playing James by Sarah Mason Page A

a favourite in the office so I unfortunately come here a lot. This time, however, I firmly keep any thoughts of vomit out of my mind and order the second most expensive thing on the menu, not caring if Joe thinks I'm a lunch tart. While we wait, I manically munch on a bread stick, eyes focused firmly on the shoreline over Joe's shoulder like a hypnotised hamster. Joe doesn't seem to notice though.
    'This is good stuff, Holly. Really good stuff. How did you persuade them to let you do it, by the way?'
    At this point I manage to drag my eyes back to his and give a modest shrug of the shoulders. Well, he doesn't need to know, does he? And besides, if he did know it was Robin's idea and not mine, he might be tempted to try and put someone with more experience in my place. 'Contacts, contacts,' I murmur airily.
    'So much for the
Journal's
guy on the inside!' Joe claps his hands together. 'This is really going to upset them! Just think how it will look for us! Exclusivity and a person from our paper actually with the police while they work! You know, Holly, I really didn't think you could turn this around. I thought we'd never get ahead of the
Journal
on this score. They've been edging up the ratings ever since their new crime correspondent started!'
    'Well, we should be the first ones on the story now!'
    'The Chief tells me a detective normally has quite a few cases on his hands at once, so only pick a couple out and make sure they're ones that look likely to be solved within the six-week period, OK?'
    'OK,' I mumble, looking doubtful. How the hell am I supposed to know whether a case can be solved or not?
    'We'll print your diary every day. The first episode won't start until next week, which will give you a chance to get used to everything and write a really good introduction in the meantime. And we'll need a title. A really catchy title. How about "The Real Dick Tracy's Diary"? Yes, yes, I think I like that. "The Real Dick Tracy's Diary." It has a kind of ring to it. We'll trail it for the rest of this week. File the introduction by Thursday, first instalment by Friday.'
    The Real Dick Tracy's Diary.
    Detective Sergeant James Sabine isn't going to like this. Not one little bit.
    It's just past two o'clock by the time I get back to the police station. The same place in the car park is free and I manoeuvre Tristan into it. The very same desk sergeant as yesterday is on duty and I give him a cheery wave and a resounding 'Hello!' on my way up to the PR department. He looks at me and glares. Making progress, definitely making progress there. I get to the PR office in double-quick time and for some reason my heart is running overtime. I have no idea what I am so nervous about.
    Robin looks as though she has been waiting for me; her eyes are shining and there is an unmistakable air of fidgety excitement. She is wearing a different but equally stunning outfit from yesterday and her hair is now loose, which calls for a frantic amount of head-tossing. Without saying a word she grabs my arm, takes me down the hallway and then into a set of open-plan offices that I have never seen before. It is an eruption of activity. There are people zooming all over the place. Files are piled high on every desk, people are yelling into phones. The air buzzes with animation. No one is in uniform which is rather unexpected in a police station. They are all dressed in shirts and ties and there is a surprising lack of women around. The odd one stands out like a nun in a nightclub. At the end of the room there is a small square of partitioning with frosted glass windows. Presumably the Chiefs office. As a stranger (and a woman) I invite a few curious stares as we cross the room to it. Robin knocks on the door, and in the brief moment that we wait to enter she whispers, 'The Chief wanted to know all about you so I'm afraid I had to fill in some gaps.' Before I can ask her exactly which gaps, we are bidden to come in. Green Eyes, or James as I had better now