phone
in his hand waiting for her reply or something?
She retrieved her phone and read, “ Wot kind of chocl8 ?”
Did that matter? She twisted her lips as she queried this in her mind. She
would personally choose a box of truffles rather than have a bar of chocolate.
But what would Jemma eat?
“ It’s a curly wurly – my fave. ” There. That’s
exactly what her character would eat. She added “babe” and a kiss.
‘Is that rhinestones on your dress, doll?’ asked a voice
from her right.
Flic’s head spun around and she almost gasped at the
appearance of the man trying to chat. He had symmetrical scars on his cheeks
and “hate” tattooed across the knuckles of the hand he was using to point to
her chest.
‘No, it’s glitter.’ She wrinkled her nose in disdain, but
tried to be polite. He could be a psycho for all she knew, and he certainly
looked like someone she would want to keep on side.
‘Are you French, doll?’ he asked, spitting accidentally as
he spoke.
‘No, I’m English,’ she squirmed. What was keeping Adam?
‘You’ve got a French accent,’ her new friend slurred.
Flic wasn’t sure how to reply and was grateful for the
vibration of her mobile. ‘Ooh, a text!’ she announced, picking it up and
forcing all her concentration on the screen, hoping he would take the hint.
“ I’ve got a curly wurly I could give u ,” Peter had
responded.
She replied that she was only having one and he was being
naughty by trying to lead her astray, then looked up to find Adam placing a
fishbowl sized glass of rosé in front of her. She brightened with the relief
and attempted to nudge her head in the direction of the drunk next to her while
furrowing her brow to signal there had been some trouble with him. Adam was
oblivious to her signals.
‘Shouldn’t be long for the food. Had to queue for a while
to order though,’ he commented.
‘Are you French too?’ the tattooed man asked Adam.
‘What?’ Adam squinted.
‘You look French,’ was the reply.
Flic grimaced. ‘Do you want to move tables?’
‘No,’ Adam shook his head at Flic before turning his
attention back to the pest. ‘I’m not French pal, I’m Russian.’
This was sufficient to confuse and silence the drunk and
Adam turned his attention back to Flic, much to her satisfaction.
‘So, what are you going to do now that you’ve found
yourself between jobs? Do you think you’ll get something similar or go for a
complete change?’
Flic shuffled in her seat. The temptation to tell him
about the business venture she and Vicky had decided to embark upon was
increasing. She had felt a pang of guilt as she sent those messages to Peter,
even though it was as Jemma and in no way genuine. She was unsure how Adam
would react to the news that he was on a date with a woman who flirted online
with other people’s partners for money, so decided to keep the information to
herself.
‘Well, there aren’t any jobs suitable for me in this area.
I’ve been looking all week and there’s nothing at all. In fact, there weren’t
any jobs in offices at all. So I went for an interview at the local tech
college to see if I could enrol on a course to keep me busy while I’m waiting,’
she informed him.
‘Great idea!’ Adam enthused. ‘Doing what?’
‘Plumbing,’ she replied.
Adam chortled then asked, ‘No, seriously, doing what?’
‘Plumbing. It was all they had available,’ Flic nodded.
She was well aware of the irony in the situation. She was all about
appearances and flamboyance. Nobody would look at her and instantly think,
“Plumber.”
Adam pressed his lips together, which Flic guessed was to
prevent him from sniggering. ‘Do you think that’s something you’ll enjoy?’
‘Well, I’ll never know unless I try! And I think I could
bring a bit of sparkle to the plumbing world,’ she shrugged.
‘I think a lot of women living on their own would
in his hand waiting for her reply or something?
She retrieved her phone and read, “ Wot kind of chocl8 ?”
Did that matter? She twisted her lips as she queried this in her mind. She
would personally choose a box of truffles rather than have a bar of chocolate.
But what would Jemma eat?
“ It’s a curly wurly – my fave. ” There. That’s
exactly what her character would eat. She added “babe” and a kiss.
‘Is that rhinestones on your dress, doll?’ asked a voice
from her right.
Flic’s head spun around and she almost gasped at the
appearance of the man trying to chat. He had symmetrical scars on his cheeks
and “hate” tattooed across the knuckles of the hand he was using to point to
her chest.
‘No, it’s glitter.’ She wrinkled her nose in disdain, but
tried to be polite. He could be a psycho for all she knew, and he certainly
looked like someone she would want to keep on side.
‘Are you French, doll?’ he asked, spitting accidentally as
he spoke.
‘No, I’m English,’ she squirmed. What was keeping Adam?
‘You’ve got a French accent,’ her new friend slurred.
Flic wasn’t sure how to reply and was grateful for the
vibration of her mobile. ‘Ooh, a text!’ she announced, picking it up and
forcing all her concentration on the screen, hoping he would take the hint.
“ I’ve got a curly wurly I could give u ,” Peter had
responded.
She replied that she was only having one and he was being
naughty by trying to lead her astray, then looked up to find Adam placing a
fishbowl sized glass of rosé in front of her. She brightened with the relief
and attempted to nudge her head in the direction of the drunk next to her while
furrowing her brow to signal there had been some trouble with him. Adam was
oblivious to her signals.
‘Shouldn’t be long for the food. Had to queue for a while
to order though,’ he commented.
‘Are you French too?’ the tattooed man asked Adam.
‘What?’ Adam squinted.
‘You look French,’ was the reply.
Flic grimaced. ‘Do you want to move tables?’
‘No,’ Adam shook his head at Flic before turning his
attention back to the pest. ‘I’m not French pal, I’m Russian.’
This was sufficient to confuse and silence the drunk and
Adam turned his attention back to Flic, much to her satisfaction.
‘So, what are you going to do now that you’ve found
yourself between jobs? Do you think you’ll get something similar or go for a
complete change?’
Flic shuffled in her seat. The temptation to tell him
about the business venture she and Vicky had decided to embark upon was
increasing. She had felt a pang of guilt as she sent those messages to Peter,
even though it was as Jemma and in no way genuine. She was unsure how Adam
would react to the news that he was on a date with a woman who flirted online
with other people’s partners for money, so decided to keep the information to
herself.
‘Well, there aren’t any jobs suitable for me in this area.
I’ve been looking all week and there’s nothing at all. In fact, there weren’t
any jobs in offices at all. So I went for an interview at the local tech
college to see if I could enrol on a course to keep me busy while I’m waiting,’
she informed him.
‘Great idea!’ Adam enthused. ‘Doing what?’
‘Plumbing,’ she replied.
Adam chortled then asked, ‘No, seriously, doing what?’
‘Plumbing. It was all they had available,’ Flic nodded.
She was well aware of the irony in the situation. She was all about
appearances and flamboyance. Nobody would look at her and instantly think,
“Plumber.”
Adam pressed his lips together, which Flic guessed was to
prevent him from sniggering. ‘Do you think that’s something you’ll enjoy?’
‘Well, I’ll never know unless I try! And I think I could
bring a bit of sparkle to the plumbing world,’ she shrugged.
‘I think a lot of women living on their own would
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