Lizzie And The Deadly Sins

1- Not the best start

Lizzie pov

Come on, come on, come on...

I mentally urge the bus to move, I'm going to be late. After splurging money that I don't really have on bus fare, I look out the window at the pouring rain wondering if I could have got away with walking, but I know that would have made me look a mess and I really need this to go well.

I wish I had a mobile phone to call ahead and apologize but that is a luxury I really can't afford. I make a mental note to buy a second hand phone with my first paycheck.

"Excuse me?" I ask the elderly lady I gave up my seat for, "could I ask for the time?"

"Oh aren't your manners lovely dear. Your mother must be so proud raising such a nice young lady" I try not to snort my derision. Like my mother has ever cared about anything other than her own selfish needs. "It's one fifteen" she finally tells me.

Damn, I'm officially late. Not getting off to the best start. I swallow back the lump forming in my throat to thank her with my well rehearsed fake smile.

The bus finally arrives at my stop, a crowd clamouring to alight at the stop. Pushing me from all sides.

Stepping off the bus with a free paper I picked up as my makeshift umbrella I start to run in the direction of the tall grey and glass building dominating the skyline. The name in bold letters across the face of it.

Sinergetic Industries.

I'm not entirely sure what they do, I only have the information I could Google at the library, but I don't need to know as I'm only applying to the mail room.

I discard of the soaked newspaper in the waste bin in the lobby, pulling the itchy material of my poor fitting blazer straight. It was the best that the charity shop had in my price range.

"Good morning, welcome to Sinergetic Industries. Do you have an appointment?" The chirpy receptionist beams at me.

"Good morning, yes my name is Jane Andrews, I have an interview for the mail room. I'm afraid I'm a little late." I reply, hesitant, "I hope that's not a problem?"

"Oh I'm sure that won't be an issue, I'm surprised anyone can get through the traffic in this weather" she smiles reassuringly. Pressing a button on her desk and speaking into her headpiece.

"Ok, you want to go left here down the corridor past the elevators and you'll find a door opposite the stairs. You need to ask for Miss Johnson. Good luck" she smiles.

I thank her finally breathing again as I turn to follow her directions.

The room looks empty at first sight. I expected hustle and bustle of people sorting mail and packages to be distributed.

"Miss Andrews?" A voice calls out, a pretty looking lady sticking her head out of a side door smiles at me, beckoning me to follow her.

"Miss Johnson?" I ask, smiling as she nods.

"Do you have your proof of right to work before we get started?" She asks, gesturing for me to take a seat.

I fumble in the bag slung over my shoulder, yet another charity shop find pulling out the birth certificate.

"I'm afraid that I don't have a passport" I apologise. Handing across the old battered paper, for her to scrutinize.

My heart thuds loudly in my chest as she observes the paper, her eyes flicking to me. I just have to act nonchalant, she doesn't know it's not my birth certificate.

If I even had my birth certificate she would see that I am not twenty one as this one claims, and my name is not Jane Andrews.

She would find that I am actually the seventeen year old Elizabeth Carter. This tiny fact, had I been honest, would not change my workload at this job. It would just change my pay bracket.

Minimum wage in the UK for under eighteen is only four pounds sixty-two an hour. For twenty-one and over it's, eight pounds thirty-six.

I discovered this unfair truth at my first job in a small cafe. The pay was cash in hand but it stung seeing my coworkers have a significantly fatter envelope no matter how many extra shifts I covered.

I think the pay is supposed to be because an under eighteen would be living with their parents. They don't usually have the bills and responsibilities of an adult.

Only that doesn't work for someone like me. Who has been alone since they were sixteen. It took the council sixteen weeks to put a roof over my head. An unfurnished one room apartment with a grant of five hundred pounds to furnish it.

Once I wasn't living on the street and I was set up on 'benefits' I was considered 'helped' the fact that the monthly benefit payments barely covered my rent wasn't relevant to them. And if I got an official job my benefits would be decreased.

The weekly welfare checks quickly fizzled out, with the promise of continued phone calls. Ironic when you have no phone.

One of the homeless women that was sleeping outside of my building swapped her birth certificate and national insurance number for a week under my roof, with the promise of cafe leftovers and a hot shower, and that's how I became Jane Andrews.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but you just look so young!" Miss Johnson smiles.

"I get that a lot" I smile nervously.

"Don't be nervous, the interview is just a formality." She tells me, misreading my apprehension. "The job is yours if you want it?"

I'm shocked that it was so easy, even for a mail room position. I expected it to be harder to get a position in a company this size.

The confusion must show on my face, as Miss Johnson leans in a little closer.

"In the interest of complete honesty..." she quickly looks around making me mimic her actions. "The job itself is simple, but keeping staff for it is tricky. The board members can be..." she pauses looking for the right word.

"Difficult."