listen.
Samantha! Guy sounds cheery. Where are you? Were all waiting with the champagne to make
the big partnership announcement!
Partnership. I want to burst into tears. But... I cant. This mistake is too big for tears.
I
thrust my phone in my pocket and get to my feet again. I begin to walk faster and faster,
weaving through the pedestrians. My head is pounding and I have no idea where Im going.
I walk for what seems like hours, my head in a daze, my feet moving blindly. The sun is
beating down, and the pavements are dusty, and after a while my head starts to throb. At
some point my mobile starts to vibrate again, but I ignore it.
At last, when my legs are starting to ache, I slow down and come to a halt. My mouth is
dry; Im totally dehydrated. I need some water. I look up, trying to get my bearings.
Somehow I seem to have reached Paddington Station, of all places.
Numbly, I turn my steps toward the entrance and walk inside. The place is noisy and
crowded with travelers. The fluorescent lights and air-conditioning and the blaring
announcements make me flinch. As Im making my way to a kiosk selling bottled water, my
mobile vibrates again. I pull it out and look at the display. I have fifteen missed calls
and another message from Guy. He left it about twenty minutes ago.
I hesitate, my heart beating with nerves, then press 1 to listen to it.
Jesus Christ, Samantha, what happened ?
He doesnt sound cheery anymore, he sounds totally stressed. I feel prickles of dread all
over my body.
We know, hes saying. OK? We know about Third Union Bank. Charles Conway called up. Then
Ketterman found the paperwork on your desk. You have to come back to the office. Now. Call
me back.
He rings off but I dont move. Im paralyzed with fright.
They know. They all know.
The black spots are dancing in front of my eyes again. Nausea is rising up inside me. The
entire staff of Carter Spink knows I messed up. People will be calling each other. E-
mailing the news in horrified glee. Did you hear ... ?
As Im standing there, something catches the corner of my eye. A familiar face is just
visible through the crowd. I turn my head and squint at the man, trying to place him then
feel a fresh jolt of horror.
Its Greg Parker, one of the senior partners. Hes been in the States, I remember. Hell have
just got in on the Heathrow Express. Now hes striding along the concourse in his expensive
suit, holding his mobile phone. His brows are knitted together and he looks concerned.
So where is she? His voice travels across the concourse.
Panic hits me like a lightning bolt. I have to get out of his line of vision. I have to
hide. Now. I edge behind a vast woman in a beige mac and try to cower down so Im hidden.
But she keeps wandering about, and I keep having to shuffle along with her.
Did you want something? She suddenly turns.
No! I say, flustered. Im... er...
Well, leave me alone! She scowls and stalks off toward
Costa Coffee. Im totally exposed in the middle of the concourse. Greg Parker is about
fifty yards away, still talking on his mobile phone.
If I move, hell see me. If I stay still... hell see me.
Suddenly the electronic Departures display board renews itself with fresh train
information. A crowd of waiting travelers grab their bags and newspapers and head toward
platform 9.
Without thinking twice, I join the throng, hidden in their midst as we sweep through the
open barriers and onto the train. It pulls out of the station and I sink into a seat,
opposite a family all wearing London Zoo T-shirts.They smile at me and somehow I manage to
smile back.
Refreshments? A wizened man pushing a trolley appears in the carriage and beams at me. Hot
and cold sandwiches, teas and coffees, soft drinks, alcoholic beverages?
The last, please. I try not to sound too desperate. A double. Of... anything.
No one comes to check my ticket. No one bothers me. The train
Samantha! Guy sounds cheery. Where are you? Were all waiting with the champagne to make
the big partnership announcement!
Partnership. I want to burst into tears. But... I cant. This mistake is too big for tears.
I
thrust my phone in my pocket and get to my feet again. I begin to walk faster and faster,
weaving through the pedestrians. My head is pounding and I have no idea where Im going.
I walk for what seems like hours, my head in a daze, my feet moving blindly. The sun is
beating down, and the pavements are dusty, and after a while my head starts to throb. At
some point my mobile starts to vibrate again, but I ignore it.
At last, when my legs are starting to ache, I slow down and come to a halt. My mouth is
dry; Im totally dehydrated. I need some water. I look up, trying to get my bearings.
Somehow I seem to have reached Paddington Station, of all places.
Numbly, I turn my steps toward the entrance and walk inside. The place is noisy and
crowded with travelers. The fluorescent lights and air-conditioning and the blaring
announcements make me flinch. As Im making my way to a kiosk selling bottled water, my
mobile vibrates again. I pull it out and look at the display. I have fifteen missed calls
and another message from Guy. He left it about twenty minutes ago.
I hesitate, my heart beating with nerves, then press 1 to listen to it.
Jesus Christ, Samantha, what happened ?
He doesnt sound cheery anymore, he sounds totally stressed. I feel prickles of dread all
over my body.
We know, hes saying. OK? We know about Third Union Bank. Charles Conway called up. Then
Ketterman found the paperwork on your desk. You have to come back to the office. Now. Call
me back.
He rings off but I dont move. Im paralyzed with fright.
They know. They all know.
The black spots are dancing in front of my eyes again. Nausea is rising up inside me. The
entire staff of Carter Spink knows I messed up. People will be calling each other. E-
mailing the news in horrified glee. Did you hear ... ?
As Im standing there, something catches the corner of my eye. A familiar face is just
visible through the crowd. I turn my head and squint at the man, trying to place him then
feel a fresh jolt of horror.
Its Greg Parker, one of the senior partners. Hes been in the States, I remember. Hell have
just got in on the Heathrow Express. Now hes striding along the concourse in his expensive
suit, holding his mobile phone. His brows are knitted together and he looks concerned.
So where is she? His voice travels across the concourse.
Panic hits me like a lightning bolt. I have to get out of his line of vision. I have to
hide. Now. I edge behind a vast woman in a beige mac and try to cower down so Im hidden.
But she keeps wandering about, and I keep having to shuffle along with her.
Did you want something? She suddenly turns.
No! I say, flustered. Im... er...
Well, leave me alone! She scowls and stalks off toward
Costa Coffee. Im totally exposed in the middle of the concourse. Greg Parker is about
fifty yards away, still talking on his mobile phone.
If I move, hell see me. If I stay still... hell see me.
Suddenly the electronic Departures display board renews itself with fresh train
information. A crowd of waiting travelers grab their bags and newspapers and head toward
platform 9.
Without thinking twice, I join the throng, hidden in their midst as we sweep through the
open barriers and onto the train. It pulls out of the station and I sink into a seat,
opposite a family all wearing London Zoo T-shirts.They smile at me and somehow I manage to
smile back.
Refreshments? A wizened man pushing a trolley appears in the carriage and beams at me. Hot
and cold sandwiches, teas and coffees, soft drinks, alcoholic beverages?
The last, please. I try not to sound too desperate. A double. Of... anything.
No one comes to check my ticket. No one bothers me. The train
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