talk about something.'
'I'm aware that we do,' I say, trying to keep my voice steady. 'But I'd like to say my part first, if I may.'
For a moment Jack Harper looks taken aback – then he raises his eyebrows.
'Sure. Go ahead.'
I walk into the room, take a deep breath and look him straight in the eye.
'Mr Harper, I know what you want to see me about. I know it was wrong. It was an error of judgement which I deeply regret. I'm extremely sorry, and it will never happen again. But in my defence …' I can hear my voice rising in emotion. 'In my defence, I had no idea who you were on that plane ride. And I don't believe I should be penalized for what was an honest genuine mistake.'
There's a pause.
'You think I'm penalizing you?' says Jack Harper at last, with a frown.
How can he be so callous?
'Yes! You must realize I would never have mentioned my CV if I'd known who you were! It was like a … a honeytrap! You know, if this was a court the judge would throw it out. They wouldn't even let you—'
'Your CV?' Jack Harper's brow clears. 'Ah! The A grade on your résumé.' He gives me a penetrating look. 'The falsified A grade, I should say.'
Hearing it out loud like that silences me. I can feel my face growing hotter and hotter.
'You know, a lot of people would call that fraud,' says Jack Harper, leaning back in his chair.
'I know they would. I know it was wrong. I shouldn't have … But it doesn't affect the way I do my job. It doesn't
mean
anything.'
'You think?' He shakes his head thoughtfully. 'I don't know. Going from a C grade to an A grade … that's quite a jump. What if we need you to do some math?'
'I can do maths,' I say desperately. 'Ask me a maths question. Go on, ask me anything.'
'OK.' His mouth is twitching. 'Eight nines.'
I stare at him, my heart racing, my mind blank. Eight nines. I've got no idea. Fuck. OK, once nine is nine. Two nines are—
No. I've got it. Eight tens are 80. So eight
nines
must be—
'Seventy-two!' I cry, and flinch as he gives a tiny half-smile. 'It's seventy-two,' I add more calmly.
'Very good.' He gestures politely to a chair. 'Now. Have you finished what you wanted to say or is there more?'
I rub my face confusedly. 'You're … not going to fire me?'
'No,' says Jack Harper patiently. 'I'm not going to fire you. Now can we talk?'
As I sit down, a horrible suspicion starts growing in my mind.
'Was …' I clear my throat. 'Was my CV what you wanted to see me about?'
'No,' he says mildly. 'That wasn't what I wanted to see you about.'
I want to die.
I want to die right here, right now.
'Right.' I smooth back my hair, trying to compose myself; trying to look businesslike. 'Right. Well. So er, what did you … what …'
'I have a small favour to ask you.'
'Right!' I feel a thud of anticipation. 'Anything! I mean … what is it?'
'For various reasons,' says Jack Harper slowly, 'I would prefer it that nobody knows I was in Scotland last week.' He meets my eyes. 'So I would like it very much if we could keep our little meeting between ourselves.'
'Right!' I say after a pause. 'Of course! Absolutely. I can do that.'
'You haven't told anyone?'
'No. No-one. Not even my … I mean, no-one. I haven't told anyone.'
'Good. Thank you very much, I appreciate it.' He smiles, and gets up from his chair. 'Nice to meet you again, Emma. I'm sure I'll see you again.'
'That's it?' I say, taken aback.
'That's it. Unless you had anything else you wanted to discuss.'
'No!' I get to my feet hurriedly, banging my ankle on the table leg.
I mean, what did I think? That he was going to ask me to head up his exciting new international project?
Jack Harper opens the door, and holds it politely for me. And I'm halfway out when I stop. 'Wait.'
'What is it?'
'What shall I say you wanted to talk to me about?' I say awkwardly. 'Everyone's going to ask me.'
'Why not say we were discussing logistics?' He raises his eyebrows and closes the door.
SIX
For the rest of the day there's a kind of
'I'm aware that we do,' I say, trying to keep my voice steady. 'But I'd like to say my part first, if I may.'
For a moment Jack Harper looks taken aback – then he raises his eyebrows.
'Sure. Go ahead.'
I walk into the room, take a deep breath and look him straight in the eye.
'Mr Harper, I know what you want to see me about. I know it was wrong. It was an error of judgement which I deeply regret. I'm extremely sorry, and it will never happen again. But in my defence …' I can hear my voice rising in emotion. 'In my defence, I had no idea who you were on that plane ride. And I don't believe I should be penalized for what was an honest genuine mistake.'
There's a pause.
'You think I'm penalizing you?' says Jack Harper at last, with a frown.
How can he be so callous?
'Yes! You must realize I would never have mentioned my CV if I'd known who you were! It was like a … a honeytrap! You know, if this was a court the judge would throw it out. They wouldn't even let you—'
'Your CV?' Jack Harper's brow clears. 'Ah! The A grade on your résumé.' He gives me a penetrating look. 'The falsified A grade, I should say.'
Hearing it out loud like that silences me. I can feel my face growing hotter and hotter.
'You know, a lot of people would call that fraud,' says Jack Harper, leaning back in his chair.
'I know they would. I know it was wrong. I shouldn't have … But it doesn't affect the way I do my job. It doesn't
mean
anything.'
'You think?' He shakes his head thoughtfully. 'I don't know. Going from a C grade to an A grade … that's quite a jump. What if we need you to do some math?'
'I can do maths,' I say desperately. 'Ask me a maths question. Go on, ask me anything.'
'OK.' His mouth is twitching. 'Eight nines.'
I stare at him, my heart racing, my mind blank. Eight nines. I've got no idea. Fuck. OK, once nine is nine. Two nines are—
No. I've got it. Eight tens are 80. So eight
nines
must be—
'Seventy-two!' I cry, and flinch as he gives a tiny half-smile. 'It's seventy-two,' I add more calmly.
'Very good.' He gestures politely to a chair. 'Now. Have you finished what you wanted to say or is there more?'
I rub my face confusedly. 'You're … not going to fire me?'
'No,' says Jack Harper patiently. 'I'm not going to fire you. Now can we talk?'
As I sit down, a horrible suspicion starts growing in my mind.
'Was …' I clear my throat. 'Was my CV what you wanted to see me about?'
'No,' he says mildly. 'That wasn't what I wanted to see you about.'
I want to die.
I want to die right here, right now.
'Right.' I smooth back my hair, trying to compose myself; trying to look businesslike. 'Right. Well. So er, what did you … what …'
'I have a small favour to ask you.'
'Right!' I feel a thud of anticipation. 'Anything! I mean … what is it?'
'For various reasons,' says Jack Harper slowly, 'I would prefer it that nobody knows I was in Scotland last week.' He meets my eyes. 'So I would like it very much if we could keep our little meeting between ourselves.'
'Right!' I say after a pause. 'Of course! Absolutely. I can do that.'
'You haven't told anyone?'
'No. No-one. Not even my … I mean, no-one. I haven't told anyone.'
'Good. Thank you very much, I appreciate it.' He smiles, and gets up from his chair. 'Nice to meet you again, Emma. I'm sure I'll see you again.'
'That's it?' I say, taken aback.
'That's it. Unless you had anything else you wanted to discuss.'
'No!' I get to my feet hurriedly, banging my ankle on the table leg.
I mean, what did I think? That he was going to ask me to head up his exciting new international project?
Jack Harper opens the door, and holds it politely for me. And I'm halfway out when I stop. 'Wait.'
'What is it?'
'What shall I say you wanted to talk to me about?' I say awkwardly. 'Everyone's going to ask me.'
'Why not say we were discussing logistics?' He raises his eyebrows and closes the door.
SIX
For the rest of the day there's a kind of
Similar Books
Cowgirl Up!
Carolyn Anderson Jones
Orca
Steven Brust
Boy vs. Girl
Na'ima B. Robert
Library of Souls
User
The Human Division #7: The Dog King
John Scalzi
Enemies and Playmates
Darcia Helle
Luminous
Dawn Metcalf
Alena: A Novel
Rachel Pastan
The Fourth Motive
Sean Lynch
Fever
Lara Whitmore