Chapters (55)
- Cover
- ANNA WHARTON
- Dedication page
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Praise
- THE IMPOSTER
‘You,’ Malc says, jabbing at the air between them, ‘you’re the reason I have some shitty story about council bins on my front page this morning.’
‘I . . .’
‘Weren’t you just in here last week? Didn’t I just give you a written warning, in fact?’ He rustles through the paperwork on his desk, finally holding up a piece of paper. ‘Yes, here it is. The ink isn’t even dry and yet you’re in here again.’
She nods, unsure if that’s the best response.
‘So no more warnings, that’s it. Taking files off company property, that’s an instantly sackable offence, isn’t it, Alec?’
Alec suddenly looks startled. ‘Well, I—’
‘Alec, see her out of this building this second.’ He pauses to jab the air towards her again. ‘And make sure you get that file first.’
Malc steps out from behind his desk then, and Chloe jumps back as he storms out the office, the cool air he leaves behind him changing everything.
She and Alec stand there, side by side. It’s a moment before he speaks.
‘Chloe,’ he says sadly, ‘you know so much better than this.’
Alec had been kinder than she’d imagined, promising her he’d speak to Malc again and make an appeal on her behalf. But the word ‘sacked’ is zigzagging around inside her head as she pushes out of the glass doors of the building. She stands on the pavement alone now, watching traffic rush past, people filled with purpose, a box in her arms, a hard lump inside her throat.
She looks up at the third floor of the building, barely able to take in what has just happened. Was she really up there just a few moments ago? And ten minutes before that, wasn’t she in her beloved archive, filing away envelopes like she’s done every day since she left school? She stands for longer, the white noise of the traffic rushing by hardly registering. It’s only the feel of her phone vibrating from inside the box, inside her handbag, that snaps her back into full consciousness. Could it be Alec? Has Malc admitted he acted too hastily?
She answers it quickly. ‘Hello?’
‘Chloe, hi, Claire Sanders here. How are you? It’s not a bad time, is it?’