asked, my mind whizzing through all the companies I’d written to. Even at that point in the call I was thinking, Why didn’t you just e-mail?
He cleared his throat. “Doug,” he said, then he coughed. “How much do you charge?”
“What?” Even now I still thought he was an employer; I’d sent my résumé out to a hundred companies over the last few days and thought that finally someone was calling about a job.
He told me then what he wanted. He gave me a couple of options, even; he didn’t seem bothered either way.
I stared at the phone in horror. “Go away!” I shrieked. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
He started to speak again, but I cut him off and blocked his number.
I wished then I hadn’t made that promise to myself about alcohol in the flat. I would have killed for a strong drink. Instead I sent Sarah a message.
Just had a dirty phone call.
Her response wasn’t what I’d hoped for. Oooh what did he say?
I sighed. Why did people always think calls like that were funny?
The usual, I replied. I’ve blocked him now. Unless you’d like me to send him your number?
She sent back a smiley face and I switched off my phone. I was troubled. I’d never had a call like that in my life; now I’d had two in one day. And the bogus interview with Alan Walker still played on my mind. Who had sent the e-mail, inviting me to go there? But the thing that bugged me the most was that memory of my dresses hanging in the closet. When I tried to remember putting them there I felt as though I was grasping at something out of reach. At a memory that wasn’t there.
CHAPTER 38
Ruby
I woke early the next morning with a thumping headache to find forty-seven missed calls on my phone. Eleven of them had left messages on my voice mail. At first I felt a rush of excitement, thinking that I’d soon be offered a job and wouldn’t have to take that low-paid receptionist’s role. I started to listen to the first message, then hastily pressed the delete key as soon as I heard the guy breathing heavily. With growing trepidation I listened to the second, before cutting it dead as soon as he said what he wanted from me. Feeling sick, I blocked all of the callers without listening to what they had to say.
I sent Sarah another message:
I’ve had loads of dirty calls, Sarah. I’ve blocked them but I don’t know where they’re coming from.
She replied: Sorry, in a rush with the kids. You need to change your number.
But how can I? I said. I’ve just sent out over 100 resumes to employers and I’ve registered with all the agencies in the northwest. I could feel myself becoming increasingly upset. I can’t just change my number! It would take weeks to tell everyone. I need a job!
My phone rang and I thought it was Sarah, grabbing a moment from work to reassure me. It really wasn’t. My hands were shaking when I ended that call and blocked the number.
Google yourself, wrote Sarah. See if your number’s anywhere. And buy a whistle. At least nobody will call twice.
There was a hardware shop on my street and I went there immediately. I tested a couple of whistles in the shop and bought the loudest one they had. Back home, I Googled myself, terrified of what I’d find, but nothing was there. I thought of entering the blocked numbers into Facebook, but couldn’t bear to put faces to the voices that had called me. I knew I’d never sleep at night if I could picture those men.
All I wanted was to ask Harry what I should do. He was my only confidant over the last year and I missed talking to him so much. I looked up Sheridan’s on my phone. On their website were photos of all the people at the top of the company. There at the very top was a photo of Harry. If I half closed my eyes it looked as though he was smiling at me, just