that promotion.
"I really enjoyed this series," someone said. It was the person who'd just got on at the last stop and sat in the seat next to him. "The film was absolute crap, though," she continued. Alex tensed. Only lunatics spoke to people on the Underground. Was he going to have to change carriages at the next stop? The girl laughed. "Don't you remember me?" And yes, he recognised the voice as he turned.
"Nadia, hey!" Alex greeted her, relieved and more than a little pleased. Nadia sat twisted towards him, smiling in the next seat, her bare legs stretched out in front of them, cork-heeled wedges almost touching the seats on the other side of the carriage, her hair in a pale, braided rope over one shoulder. "Wow, fancy bumping into you here! Small world."
"More like, small Northern Line," Nadia grinned. She took in his rather rumpled suit. "Are you just on your way home? It's late."
Alex scratched at the back of his neck, uncomfortably; it probably wasn't the best idea to talk about work with Nadia. "Oh, you know how it is. I'm gunning for promotion." He gave a self-depreciating smile. "Something a little less soul-numbing for a little more money."
"I don't think I could ever do a job like yours," Nadia told him, matter-of-factly. Alex refrained from pedantically pointing out that foreign nationals can't get jobs at the British Home Office. "Oh? Why's that?"
"Ah, it's like a big, grown-up, important job. I mean, you affect people's lives ."
Alex scratched uncomfortably again. "I really don't do anything. I told you, I'm just the admin monkey. So," he hurried on, eager to change the subject, "what would your dream job be? I mean, if you could do anything."
"You mean, if I had a visa allowing me to work?" Nadia teased. She tilted her head, giving his question some thought. "I know you're meant to answer these questions with things like, soap star, prime minister, astronaut but…" She looked down at her hands against her thighs. "Lately I've been thinking I'd like to get involved in immigration issues…"
"I thought you said you couldn't deal with an important job?" Alex teased.
"No, I mean, I'd like to have a job where I could help people in my position. Going through the immigration ringer!" She rolled her eyes. "Give them advice, help them with their applications and appeals, that sort of thing. I mean, I don't know if I could actually ever become like, a full-on lawyer, but I could certainly work in translation to start with. Maybe teach Russian, or English to Russians!" She shrugged. "That sort of thing."
Alex, who would have probably genuinely answered that sort of question with “astronaut”, felt rather silly and humbled.
"That sounds like a really good idea," he told her, sincerely. "And very worthy." He was rewarded by a full-on beam from Nadia.
"Ah, that's good to hear. You're the first person I've mentioned it to, so." The Tube slowed as it entered Stockwell station, the carriage almost emptying out as passengers changed onto the Victoria Line. "Anyway, I hope you've got a good dinner waiting for you when you get home. I trust Rory is being a good little housewife and cooking for his overtime-trodden flatmate?"
Alex pictured Rory wearing a ruffled pinny and fretfully stirring multiple pots on the hob and snorted. "I very much doubt that. My dinner plans consist of nipping into one of the many fine Middle Eastern takeaway dining establishments that Tooting boasts on my walk home."
Nadia crinkled her nose. "By 'Middle Eastern dining' do you mean a kebab shop?"
Alex nodded solemnly. "I do." He shrugged. "I don't even know if Rory's going to be in, to be honest! He might be round Lila's."
Nadia regarded him thoughtfully as she felt around in her bag for her Oyster card as the Tube sped up again, with the next stop her own. "Well, I've already eaten," she told him. "But I was going to hit Starbucks en route home and, to be honest, even a Starbucks toastie is going to be better for you than a
"I really enjoyed this series," someone said. It was the person who'd just got on at the last stop and sat in the seat next to him. "The film was absolute crap, though," she continued. Alex tensed. Only lunatics spoke to people on the Underground. Was he going to have to change carriages at the next stop? The girl laughed. "Don't you remember me?" And yes, he recognised the voice as he turned.
"Nadia, hey!" Alex greeted her, relieved and more than a little pleased. Nadia sat twisted towards him, smiling in the next seat, her bare legs stretched out in front of them, cork-heeled wedges almost touching the seats on the other side of the carriage, her hair in a pale, braided rope over one shoulder. "Wow, fancy bumping into you here! Small world."
"More like, small Northern Line," Nadia grinned. She took in his rather rumpled suit. "Are you just on your way home? It's late."
Alex scratched at the back of his neck, uncomfortably; it probably wasn't the best idea to talk about work with Nadia. "Oh, you know how it is. I'm gunning for promotion." He gave a self-depreciating smile. "Something a little less soul-numbing for a little more money."
"I don't think I could ever do a job like yours," Nadia told him, matter-of-factly. Alex refrained from pedantically pointing out that foreign nationals can't get jobs at the British Home Office. "Oh? Why's that?"
"Ah, it's like a big, grown-up, important job. I mean, you affect people's lives ."
Alex scratched uncomfortably again. "I really don't do anything. I told you, I'm just the admin monkey. So," he hurried on, eager to change the subject, "what would your dream job be? I mean, if you could do anything."
"You mean, if I had a visa allowing me to work?" Nadia teased. She tilted her head, giving his question some thought. "I know you're meant to answer these questions with things like, soap star, prime minister, astronaut but…" She looked down at her hands against her thighs. "Lately I've been thinking I'd like to get involved in immigration issues…"
"I thought you said you couldn't deal with an important job?" Alex teased.
"No, I mean, I'd like to have a job where I could help people in my position. Going through the immigration ringer!" She rolled her eyes. "Give them advice, help them with their applications and appeals, that sort of thing. I mean, I don't know if I could actually ever become like, a full-on lawyer, but I could certainly work in translation to start with. Maybe teach Russian, or English to Russians!" She shrugged. "That sort of thing."
Alex, who would have probably genuinely answered that sort of question with “astronaut”, felt rather silly and humbled.
"That sounds like a really good idea," he told her, sincerely. "And very worthy." He was rewarded by a full-on beam from Nadia.
"Ah, that's good to hear. You're the first person I've mentioned it to, so." The Tube slowed as it entered Stockwell station, the carriage almost emptying out as passengers changed onto the Victoria Line. "Anyway, I hope you've got a good dinner waiting for you when you get home. I trust Rory is being a good little housewife and cooking for his overtime-trodden flatmate?"
Alex pictured Rory wearing a ruffled pinny and fretfully stirring multiple pots on the hob and snorted. "I very much doubt that. My dinner plans consist of nipping into one of the many fine Middle Eastern takeaway dining establishments that Tooting boasts on my walk home."
Nadia crinkled her nose. "By 'Middle Eastern dining' do you mean a kebab shop?"
Alex nodded solemnly. "I do." He shrugged. "I don't even know if Rory's going to be in, to be honest! He might be round Lila's."
Nadia regarded him thoughtfully as she felt around in her bag for her Oyster card as the Tube sped up again, with the next stop her own. "Well, I've already eaten," she told him. "But I was going to hit Starbucks en route home and, to be honest, even a Starbucks toastie is going to be better for you than a
Similar Books
