The Long Con

Dear Maeve,

I want Ash Weller to keep looking at me. I cannot afford to let him see why I’m here. On his first morning, he crossed out a lie I’d been ordered to tell a woman about her money. He did it in front of the person paying us both.

I had intended to refuse. It would have been much more convenient if I’d done it first. Then I could have spent the morning feeling principled instead of wondering whether he always looked that calm when he was angry.

Ash has since removed several useful lies from our call script. We have a private glossary now. A courtesy review is a second bill; a personalised recovery pathway appears to be a corridor with your name on it. I hadn’t expected to laugh at work. I hadn’t expected to start listening for his footsteps afterwards.

Yesterday he brought me tea without asking anything in return. Later he told me something about himself that I could have put in a report. I left it out.

That is the part I keep thinking about. I came here to bring seven people facts they could choose to use. I am getting very good at recognising what belongs to somebody else. I’m less sure what to do with the things I want for myself.

I’ve asked him to meet me somewhere neither of us has a desk. I said I was tired of speaking in headings. I haven’t told him how much harder I think the ordinary sentences will be.