The first thing Colin noticed about Sally when she turned up at the volunteer center was that she was wearing a wedding ring. On her right hand.
When he asked her why she was interested in the job, she gave a slightly convoluted reply along the lines of having time on her hands and something to do with redemption. It was non-sensical but she came across as a well-spoken and educated woman so he did not want to pry further. Her eyes were red-rimmed, accentuated by the light blue of the irises, and although pale in complexion she did appear drawn, possibly tired. Her dark hair was scraped back severely into a pony-tail. How old? thought Colin. Difficult to tell, but he guessed around thirty-five or so. Not his type anyway. Too tall and bony, like she hadn't seen a decent meal in months, let alone eaten one.
But she ticked all the right boxes: she could use a computer, she could count, and she was competent (more than competent, which bothered him somewhat) in written and spoken English. So he had added her name to the still rather short list of volunteers. There were now five in total, excluding himself. The less people Colin had to do this volunteer research work, the longer it would take, the more he would have to tolerate Sir Percy's irritating nasal tones and preposterous ideas. Finish this, then quit, he said to himself. There has got to be a better life beyond civil service, he thought.
"Rabbits? Rabbits?", the high pitched incredulous voice was still ringing in his ears when Colin hung up the phone. He turned back to face the room and found four sets of eyes fixed on him. Only one person seemed oblivious to the phone conversation that had just taken place between himself and Sir Percy. Given the layout of the room it was virtually impossible not to have heard it. Yet that woman, Sally, was in a world of her own. Her pale blue eyes were intently focused on the computer screen and for a moment it crossed Colin's mind that she might be wearing earphones and had therefore overheard nothing. He stepped towards her when a brilliant flash of light blinded his vision.
Someone had grabbed his right hand and was shaking it vigorously. "Matt Deacon, Evening News", he heard a voice saying, his eyes still trying to readjust. Colin squinted, looking in the direction of the person behind the handshake. "Y'all right mate?" came the voice again.
"Yeah, sure, sorry, just my eyes, sorry - you are?"
"Matt Deacon, Evening News, 'pologies 'bout the flash mate. Bugger these things, eh? Have a mind of their own, but the moment you switch 'em off is typically right when you need 'em. Know what I mean?"
When he asked her why she was interested in the job, she gave a slightly convoluted reply along the lines of having time on her hands and something to do with redemption. It was non-sensical but she came across as a well-spoken and educated woman so he did not want to pry further. Her eyes were red-rimmed, accentuated by the light blue of the irises, and although pale in complexion she did appear drawn, possibly tired. Her dark hair was scraped back severely into a pony-tail. How old? thought Colin. Difficult to tell, but he guessed around thirty-five or so. Not his type anyway. Too tall and bony, like she hadn't seen a decent meal in months, let alone eaten one.
But she ticked all the right boxes: she could use a computer, she could count, and she was competent (more than competent, which bothered him somewhat) in written and spoken English. So he had added her name to the still rather short list of volunteers. There were now five in total, excluding himself. The less people Colin had to do this volunteer research work, the longer it would take, the more he would have to tolerate Sir Percy's irritating nasal tones and preposterous ideas. Finish this, then quit, he said to himself. There has got to be a better life beyond civil service, he thought.
"Rabbits? Rabbits?", the high pitched incredulous voice was still ringing in his ears when Colin hung up the phone. He turned back to face the room and found four sets of eyes fixed on him. Only one person seemed oblivious to the phone conversation that had just taken place between himself and Sir Percy. Given the layout of the room it was virtually impossible not to have heard it. Yet that woman, Sally, was in a world of her own. Her pale blue eyes were intently focused on the computer screen and for a moment it crossed Colin's mind that she might be wearing earphones and had therefore overheard nothing. He stepped towards her when a brilliant flash of light blinded his vision.
Someone had grabbed his right hand and was shaking it vigorously. "Matt Deacon, Evening News", he heard a voice saying, his eyes still trying to readjust. Colin squinted, looking in the direction of the person behind the handshake. "Y'all right mate?" came the voice again.
"Yeah, sure, sorry, just my eyes, sorry - you are?"
"Matt Deacon, Evening News, 'pologies 'bout the flash mate. Bugger these things, eh? Have a mind of their own, but the moment you switch 'em off is typically right when you need 'em. Know what I mean?"