Playing James by Sarah Mason Read Free Book Online

conversation and will very often say anything to fill them. But my annoying and boring sense of fair play asserts itself. I am not interviewing Robin for the paper, I am just being nosy about her life. I decide not to further compound her discomfort and say, 'It was a bit of a shock to find out I'd been given the police beat.'
    'Why?'
    'Well, it's not been, that is to say, historically speaking, the best post in the world.'
    I go on to explain about the past situation and what a terrible job crime correspondent is supposed to be. She frowns into her coffee and says slowly, 'Well, we're just going to have to do something about it, aren't we?'
    'I don't really know what can be done because it has been like that for as long as I can remember. Once there was this guy, Rob, who inherited the beat and he actually hid in the back of one of the patrol cars. I mean, he only wanted to see a crime scene first-hand. But you should have heard the
fuss
…'
    While I am speaking, I am busy scooping the froth off my coffee and sucking it from the spoon. At this not very attractive point in my existence, Green Eyes marches into the canteen holding a pile of paperwork. I have only just managed to extract the spoon from my oesophagus and close my mouth by the time he has nodded at Robin and situated himself at the other end of the room. Robin sits there, staring at him.
    'Robin?'
    She looks at me distractedly. 'You've given me an idea. We could turn this whole thing around, Holly. We could. Imagine what it would do for us! You could have your own column and I could go back to London in a trail of glory sooner than I ever dreamed!'
    You can tell Robin works in PR, can't you? And why does she want to go back to London in a trail of glory? But I am anxious to hear any advice about my rapidly submerging career at this point and her obvious enthusiasm is a little infectious.
    'What? What is it?'
    'Good-looking isn't he?' She is staring over at Green Eyes.
    'Er, yes, yes, he is. What is this idea?'
    'Very boy-next-door.'
    I take another look at Green Eyes. What sort of boys did she live next door to? I don't know about you but I always got spotty skateboarders obsessed with Adam Ant, certainly no resemblance to this beauty. Not that I would have liked him living next door to me, especially after savouring the delights of his lashing tongue. God knows what he would have said about my legwarmer phase.
    Robin swiftly starts to gather up her stuff. 'Come on, I'll show you the ropes and then I'll talk to the Chief about my idea.'
    Back in the PR office, she shows me the report basket where all the press releases detailing crimes committed get placed for the reporters. We simply come up here and help ourselves to a copy. She absolutely refuses to say anything more about this idea of hers, except for winking and asking if I will be back tomorrow, and after a while I give up my line of questioning altogether. I gather three press releases from the basket and make my way back to the car park and Tristan.
    Back at the paper's offices, I peruse the reports. Not terribly exciting; one act of car vandalism by students (now I am not a student myself I take enormous delight in raising my eyes heavenwards, tutting and saying, 'Students, tsk, would you believe it?'), one joy-rider and one banknote scam. Picking the most interesting of the lot, the bank-note one in case you're wondering, I start to make a few phone calls. It gets interesting and, before you know it, it's half-past five when I file copy. Maybe crime correspondent is going to work out OK. I take great care to be polite to the detective on the case even though he makes it clear I am bothering him, and I don't make one disheartening reference to the police in my report. Robin's positive attitude is catching. Maybe I, Holly Colshannon, can turn this around. Maybe I can make them like me.
    We're back to
The Sound of Music
again, aren't we? Carrots.
    Lizzie is coming over tonight. We usually spend Monday