A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,15
do, a reason to stay longer, a chance to legitimately bump into Sad Guy, find out why he was sad, and get him to fall in love with Dog.
Get real. You’re not on their books. You have no references and you can’t get involved with anyone. Reality knocked sense into his head.
He left Dog with Julian while he went into the café toilet to have a quick wash and clean his teeth. By the time they returned to the house, Ink had talked himself out of any chance of this resulting in a job.
“Shit,” Julian mumbled. “Where is everyone?”
He knocked on the door and Ink hung back. The guy who’d spoken on the steps earlier opened it.
“Am I late? Sorry,” Julian said.
“He’s been quicker than I expected. You’re fine. Come on in.” The guy glanced at Ink and gave him a puzzled look before he went inside with Julian.
Ink sat on the step next to Dog and waited.
It seemed no time at all before Julian was emerging and Ink stood up.
Julian shrugged and shook his head slightly as he went past. “Good luck,” he muttered.
The older guy at the door looked down at Dog. “There weren’t supposed to be any pets.”
“He’s not mine.” Sorry, Dog. Of course, Dog immediately jumped up at Ink, wagging his tail.
“I’m Jeff Robertson.” He held out his hand.
Ink shook it. “Ink Farrow.”
“I thought Helper were only sending seven people,” the man said.
Ink frowned. “Oh. Has someone made a mistake?” Don’t tell me to go!
Jeff’s brow furrowed. “Let’s see. Come on in and meet Tay.”
An old black-and-white tiled floor stretched ahead of him with stairs rising on the left. The hallway smelt fusty.
“Three flats,” Jeff said. “Tay is on the ground floor.”
He opened the door and Ink followed him through a small hallway into a large room with a kitchen at the far end. It was much more modern than he’d expected, bright and airy with plain white walls and a wooden floor. There wasn’t much furniture: a couch, a red recliner chair, a TV and a set of bookshelves full of books. The only thing on the wall was a picture of a breaking wave that looked as if it had been made with lots of pieces of glass. Ink liked it. A small rectangular table with four chairs divided the main room from the kitchen, which had grey wood units and a white-and-grey work surface. Ink could only dream of living in a place like this.
A woman about the same age as Jeff walked in and smiled.
“This is my wife,” Jeff said.
Ink shook her hand. “Hello.”
“Thank you for coming. Tay will speak to you in his room,” she said. “He doesn’t like to shake hands.”
“Okay. Can I leave my things here? And Dog?”
“That’s fine.” She bent to stroke Dog who dropped onto his back with his legs in the air, frantically wiping the floor with his tail and squirming with joy as she tickled his belly.
Ink smiled. Well done, Dog. Maybe this couple would take him.
“In here.” Jeff led him back into the hall and pushed open a door.
Ink was so convinced he was going to meet an old man, the father of one of these two, that he stumbled as he walked in. The guy from yesterday, neatly groomed scruff on his chin, sat on a black office chair with his back to a desk and looked no happier than he had when Ink last saw him. The door closed and Ink jumped.
“Hello again.” Ink smiled.
“What are you doing here?”
“Applying for a job.”
“What sort of job are you looking for?”
Bastard. Ink knew he wasn’t being taken seriously, so fuck him. “I’d like a senior role obviously. Something that will stimulate and excite me, and have great prospects. A salary of around forty thousand plus a car.”
“Oh yeah? Keep talking. Don’t bore me.”
What? Ink would much rather have answered questions. He’d practised answers to plenty of them after he’d run. “How about you talk and don’t bore me? I’ll see if I want to live with you.”
Tay gaped at him, then gave a short laugh, and Ink exhaled.
“Are you homeless?”
“No.” He could always find somewhere to sleep and call it home.
“Where do you live at the moment?”
“Lewisham.” He’d spent two nights there in a hostel.
“Ever killed anyone?”
Ink felt the bottom fall out of his world. Why would he ask that? He almost got up and walked out. Fuck, I know better than that. Get a grip. He’s testing me.