Sequela

by Cleland Smith

  'Gaunt, you're making the poor girl blush.' Farrell's voice was acid. 'Let's get down to business. Tell me about your experience with regards to this role – we'll get on to your sexual experience later on.'

  Dee tried to hide her shock and began to talk through her academic career and her areas of special knowledge.

  Once Dee was talking she found it didn't matter that she was here, at V. She was in her element. The panel watched her carefully, nodded and listened patiently for a long stretch until –

  'That's all very interesting,' Farrell said, with a wave of her hand, 'but I'd like to go back to this first point.'

  Dee felt heavy, as if someone had cut the string on her balloon. She talked over the first point again, a comment she had made about her PhD thesis, not really relevant at all. Farrell moved onto another point and then went back again to the first. Then she picked up some more points and revisited them repeatedly. Why had Dee taken a travelling year? Why had she not travelled for longer? What had she learned? Why had she not got a first in every subject – was it lack of talent or laziness?

  As they talked, the wedge of sunlight Dee had so carefully avoided moved towards her and broadened, sliding up her shins into her lap. Farrell started to delve into Dee's knowledge about the company – could she give them a potted history of V? What did she know about their other products? Who did she think would be the biggest competitors for the new product?

  'I'm sorry,' Dee said, eventually, after struggling through an hour of half-guessed answers. 'This is all way out of my area of expertise. I'm just interested in the immunology angle on the screens project. Kester must have briefed you.'

  'Oh, Kester briefed us.' Farrell's tone was strange. Dee was unsure what she meant. 'He said you were an ambitious girl. Fiercely ambitious, I think were his words. Is that true?'

  'I suppose –'

  'Said that working on this project with him was your dream. Is that true?'

  'Yes…' Dee faltered.

  That was true. That had been true. Was it still? The thought that she might not even get through at interview, that they might appoint someone else to work by Kester's side and finish what they had started together was beginning to make her feel sick. She looked down into her lap. Her hands were clasped there. She shifted them forward a little and then back again to hide the sweaty patches they had left.

  'You know there may be more in this for you than working on the team, if you want it,' Farrell said. 'We're impressed. You don't think we go into this much depth with every candidate?'

  The sudden change of tone took Dee by surprise. She was light again, had ten balloons in her hand. What were they going to offer her? She wanted it, she realised suddenly. She really wanted it. Did Farrell matter? Could it all just disappear? Only she herself knew what had happened and it had obviously been dealt with. She had seen all the fuss on the web about the bomb threats and about the 'precautionary measures' V were doling out to their clients. It was all in a day's work for them. To everyone else it would look like she and Kester had had a tiff, she'd gone off the deep end and was back. It would be more suspicious if she didn't…

  'You'd still be involved in the screen work of course, but blue skies immunology research is where we're really –'

  'I'm sorry?' Dee lifted one hand to shade her eyes from the encroaching sunlight.

  'Blue skies research. Immunology is a key aspect in everything we do – designer viruses, the screens, pharma – and with the competition the way it is we need to be at the forefront of the field like never before. Budget is unlimited of course.'

  'Unlimited?'

  Dee was dreaming. She was dreaming. She was still in her bed and had overslept. They were offering her a job, her dream job. Her mind buzzed. She wasn't here to get a job. She was here so it wouldn't look suspicious, her not wanting a job. Not wanting a job. Not wanting a job. Why? Because she would be working with Kester? But that was all over. He need never know; they need never know. Her dream job – why not? She was at the top of her game. They could obviously see her potential. Anything would be possible. Anything. And she would be working with Kester more closely than Farrell. She thought back to their afternoon at the PlayPen, her thoughts as she had left him there, betrayed. Her regret. If she regretted it, perhaps she could forgive him.

  'We're satisfied with your experience.' Farrell sat back in her chair.

  Dee smiled broadly at her. It could happen. If she could smile at Farrell here, now, smile and mean it…

  'Most satisfied,' Gaunt said with a lascivious smile.

  'I've just one more question for you,' Farrell said.

  Gaunt was on his feet again. He moved round behind Dee. She felt his gnarled hands slip under the collar of her jacket and begin to guide it ever so gently back off her shoulders. Dee tensed, but didn't stop him. She was suddenly aware of the film of sweat that lay on her skin, the damp gathered fabric of her trousers in the V of her crotch. So this was the price. Yule hauled himself out of his chair and came towards her, a strange smile on his face; excited, regretful.

  Farrell stood, turned and walked away from Dee towards the window. Her question reflected back across the room, blood-edged glass, and wedged in Dee's breast.

  'Just how much do you want it?'

  A word from the author

  I hope you enjoyed Sequela. If you did, please post a review on Amazon – it'll boost the chances of there being a sequel and it'll make my day!

  Thanks for reading,

  Cleland Smith.

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  About the author

  Cleland Smith was born in the Highlands of Scotland in 1977 and grew up in Dingwall by the Cromarty Firth. She has a degree in English Language and Literature from the University of Glasgow and an MA in Creative and Life Writing from Goldsmiths College, London. Smith has worked as a supermarket store detective, a telecoms knowledge engineer, a business analyst in the banking sector and as the development manager for an award-winning online learning company. She has published three books of poetry under her maiden name, Angela Cleland. She lives in Surrey with her husband and two sons.

  Find out more about Cleland Smith at www.clelandsmith.com.