The Holly Man

The Interview

She looked in the mirror and shook her head. Staring at her reflection wasn't going to make her feel any better about how she looked. The tan jacket with its fine black checks looked exactly what it was, a slightly too big staple from a shop favoured by middle-aged women. It looked slightly but not overtly mis-matched with the black pleated skirt. With a final deep breath, she smoothed the hair her mother always called mousey and turned to go downstairs. Halfway down her mother called, "Amy, I should have had my tablets twenty minutes ago." Coming around the door she said,

"I'll get them now. It's only a few minutes late. It won't hurt."

"What?" her mother bellowed. Amy reached for the remote on the small sofa which was the centre of her mother's world, and turned the TV volume down.

"I said it's not twenty minutes. I'll get them now and make you a drink before I go." The elderly woman huffed,

"I don't know what you're going for. Nothing wrong with the job you've got, and goodness only knows how I'd manage." Amy filled the kettle and tapped out the pills from the container she filled up at the weekend for each day of the week.

"Well, like you say I probably won't get it." She busied herself making the drink and took it over with the handful of pills. Taking it the older woman looked her up and down in satisfaction,

"That jacket suits you. You can borrow it more often."

Sitting on the train forty minutes later Amy sniffed the edge of the jacket and ruefully thought how it smelt of old lady. She hoped her famously acute sense of smell meant no-one else would think the same as she watched the countryside fly past the windows. When she arrived at the station, she came out into the street and stopped, looking around and buffeted by not one but two impatient commuters keen to get on their way. Hoping she'd turned in the right direction, her stomach growled with nerves and hunger since she was too churned up to risk any breakfast. She willed it to be quiet once she arrived, but knew it probably wouldn't behave.

She saw the brass plaque outside the building with a sense of relief and entered the marble lined reception. She was directed to the third floor and entered a smaller reception, her low heels sinking into the carpet pile, giving her an awkward gait. Directed to sit and wait, she took one of the soft, small chairs and glanced around at her companions. What she saw made her heart sink. There were two women in their late twenties or early thirties wearing smart jackets, one with tailored trousers and the slimmer of the two in a pencil skirt which ended just above the knee. Both had long hair, and pencil skirt was flipping hers periodically, allowing the spotlights on the ceiling to illuminate her gleaming blonde highlights. Amy tucked the hair from her own thick bob behind one ear, feeling bulky and unpolished. She turned her attention to the various suits around her, and one stood out immediately. The Asian guy was leaning forward from his seat. From his smirk and his swagger even as he sat, it struck Amy that he thought he'd already got the job. His dark blue suit looked expensive against a crisp, white shirt. She acknowledged in her head that he was good-looking, but the fact he so clearly knew it left her cold.

A message on the receptionist's headset prompted her to lead the group into a board room where they filed in and took seats. Amy was next to trouser woman who wore expensive glasses over seriously impressive eye make-up. After a silent minute during which her badly behaved stomach growled loudly making her cheeks glow, two men entered the room. The first one through the door had close cropped dark brown hair, slightly longer on top. He was tall and powerfully built beneath a charcoal suit. As he perched on the windowsill, Amy thought he looked disinterested in the group in the room; distracted as if there were other matters weighing on his mind. His companion was much more focused, scanning the faces around the table before taking a seat at the head of the table directly in front of his boss.