She considers the image. ‘Well… I wouldn’t hold your breath. He looks… chirpy, friendly and yes, really nice, so….’
‘Yeah.’ I take the laptop. ‘He’s not as chirpy as he looks,’ I say quietly, as if that makes everything OK.
Moments later my phone flashes up with a message.
‘OK then,’ I bring up a picture of the sender, ‘what about this guy?’
My mother gives me that ‘do you really need to ask?’ look.
‘Trouble?’ I say.
‘But… why?! I mean, I know you’re probably right, but….’
I start typing a reply.
It’s over a week before I hear back from Viable Prospect. I don’t know if it’s my mother’s words, or what I said to Beatrice, or the growing feeling that he’s leading me a merry dance, but when he does finally reply, I leave it.