way towards the coat hook on the back of the door to grab his denim jacket.
‘What about yours?’ she asked.
‘My what?’
‘Your results.’
‘I don’t really care,’ he shrugged. ‘I know what I need to know.’
‘But what if…’
‘What if nothing.’
‘Well I’d like to know who my competition is.’
‘You have no competition.’
‘Nevertheless…’
‘Here, catch,’ he said as he threw his phone towards her. She caught it and as he put his arms through his coat sleeves, she opened his inbox and began to read.
‘Oh. My. God.’ She laughed loudly. She put her hand over her mouth and looked at him with wide-open eyes.
‘What? Have I got a Match?’
‘You certainly have.’
‘Oh Christ, please don’t tell me I’m Matched with your mum.’
‘No, don’t worry, it’s not my mum,’ Sally replied. ‘Your Match is actually a man called Alexander.’
CHAPTER 15
ELLIE
Ellie’s face felt rigid like it’d been caked in concrete. She couldn’t wait to return to her home and start removing the thickly applied make-up, layer by layer.
After a morning standing in front of cameras for various international TV news channels, a journalist from The Economist magazine tried to encourage her to discuss personal matters rather than the launch of her company’s new App. But enough bullets had hit Ellie over the years to know when a writer was about to take aim. So she dodged them by giving him a polite smile and reminding him of what she was there to discuss and what subjects were out of bounds.
As her head of security Andrei drove her from central London to her townhouse in Belgravia, she opened the secure internal company messaging system on her tablet and discovered a file that’d been sent by Ula, her PA.
“Timothy Kelly,” read the folder and Ellie realised it must contain the details she had requested of her DNA Match. She was more nervous than she thought she’d be as her finger hovered above the icon. She worried about what it might contain and just how much detail Ula had unearthed. She assumed Ula had taken her advice and subcontracted it out to the team her firm employed to carry out background checks on the senders of threatening emails and other aggressive communications she received on a weekly basis.
She took a deep breath and pressed the icon. It contained a handful of documents: a photograph from a local newspaper of a provincial football team; his LinkedIn CV, his internet browser history from the last six months, a bank statement and some miscellaneous images. She didn’t want to know by what shifty means that information had been gathered.
Ellie clicked on the photograph of the football team first and read the caption below, eventually locating the name Tim Kelly. She found him in the back row of the picture; a man of average build, with dark, short, receding hair, a beard and a big grin spread across his face. She immediately decided that physically, he was not her usual type.
She scanned his CV and learned he’d worked his way through a succession of employers, chiefly in computing, since leaving university. His internet history was typical for a man of his age. Youtube links to 1990s music videos and Family Guy clips, football and Grand Prix results, the occasional pornographic site – but nothing freakish, she was relieved to discover – and regular visits to Netflix and Spotify for his films and music. He liked Coldplay, the Foo Fighters, Stereophonics and watching anything with Matt Damon or Leonardo DiCaprio in, none of which were to her taste. His bank statement divulged his supermarkets of choice were Tesco and Aldi; he bought most of his clothes from Burton’s and Next, he donated by direct debit to Alzheimer’s and stray dogs’ charities and put some money away towards his pension each month.
There was nothing in the file to suggest he was or had been married, that he had a current partner or any children. He had no criminal record, no
‘What about yours?’ she asked.
‘My what?’
‘Your results.’
‘I don’t really care,’ he shrugged. ‘I know what I need to know.’
‘But what if…’
‘What if nothing.’
‘Well I’d like to know who my competition is.’
‘You have no competition.’
‘Nevertheless…’
‘Here, catch,’ he said as he threw his phone towards her. She caught it and as he put his arms through his coat sleeves, she opened his inbox and began to read.
‘Oh. My. God.’ She laughed loudly. She put her hand over her mouth and looked at him with wide-open eyes.
‘What? Have I got a Match?’
‘You certainly have.’
‘Oh Christ, please don’t tell me I’m Matched with your mum.’
‘No, don’t worry, it’s not my mum,’ Sally replied. ‘Your Match is actually a man called Alexander.’
CHAPTER 15
ELLIE
Ellie’s face felt rigid like it’d been caked in concrete. She couldn’t wait to return to her home and start removing the thickly applied make-up, layer by layer.
After a morning standing in front of cameras for various international TV news channels, a journalist from The Economist magazine tried to encourage her to discuss personal matters rather than the launch of her company’s new App. But enough bullets had hit Ellie over the years to know when a writer was about to take aim. So she dodged them by giving him a polite smile and reminding him of what she was there to discuss and what subjects were out of bounds.
As her head of security Andrei drove her from central London to her townhouse in Belgravia, she opened the secure internal company messaging system on her tablet and discovered a file that’d been sent by Ula, her PA.
“Timothy Kelly,” read the folder and Ellie realised it must contain the details she had requested of her DNA Match. She was more nervous than she thought she’d be as her finger hovered above the icon. She worried about what it might contain and just how much detail Ula had unearthed. She assumed Ula had taken her advice and subcontracted it out to the team her firm employed to carry out background checks on the senders of threatening emails and other aggressive communications she received on a weekly basis.
She took a deep breath and pressed the icon. It contained a handful of documents: a photograph from a local newspaper of a provincial football team; his LinkedIn CV, his internet browser history from the last six months, a bank statement and some miscellaneous images. She didn’t want to know by what shifty means that information had been gathered.
Ellie clicked on the photograph of the football team first and read the caption below, eventually locating the name Tim Kelly. She found him in the back row of the picture; a man of average build, with dark, short, receding hair, a beard and a big grin spread across his face. She immediately decided that physically, he was not her usual type.
She scanned his CV and learned he’d worked his way through a succession of employers, chiefly in computing, since leaving university. His internet history was typical for a man of his age. Youtube links to 1990s music videos and Family Guy clips, football and Grand Prix results, the occasional pornographic site – but nothing freakish, she was relieved to discover – and regular visits to Netflix and Spotify for his films and music. He liked Coldplay, the Foo Fighters, Stereophonics and watching anything with Matt Damon or Leonardo DiCaprio in, none of which were to her taste. His bank statement divulged his supermarkets of choice were Tesco and Aldi; he bought most of his clothes from Burton’s and Next, he donated by direct debit to Alzheimer’s and stray dogs’ charities and put some money away towards his pension each month.
There was nothing in the file to suggest he was or had been married, that he had a current partner or any children. He had no criminal record, no
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