Poison Flowers Read Online Free PDF Page A

annoyed by his patronising bumbling, but on that particular morning he made her even angrier than usual. The recently appointed Establishments Officer had told her that she was to serve on a selection board for the next two weeks and she had protested about it, eventually insisting that her case should be taken to the Permanent Secretary. Unfortunately the PS had been infuriated that he was being bothered with so trivial a matter and had decided to side with the Establishments Officer.
    â€˜You must admit, Willow,’ he said in a voice of exaggerated patience that grated on her nerves, ‘that the mere fact that you are allowed to work part-time cannot excuse you from the onerous and tedious duties that your colleagues shoulder faithfully.’
    â€˜My reluctance has nothing to do with that, Permanent Secretary,’ said Willow, sounding annoyingly patient herself, although she did not realise it, ‘but with the White Paper. Of course I am willing to serve on selection boards; it is merely that at this particular juncture, I am needed here.’
    â€˜I am afraid that you must let your superiors be the judge of that,’ said the Permanent Secretary. There was plenty of synthetic kindness in his voice, but his pale, bloodshot eyes looked hopeful and Willow wondered, as she had often wondered before, whether he might be deliberately trying to provoke her.
    â€˜Does the Minister know what you’re doing?’ Willow asked abruptly.
    â€˜Despite her feminine desire to be involved with minutiae, Mrs Trouville is quite wise enough not to interfere with my running of this department,’ he said through his teeth. Willow shook her head so vigorously that one of the hairpins slipped out of her hair. Furiously, she shoved it back so hard that one of the ends dug into her neck, making her eyes water slightly. She saw an interested expression cross the Permanent Secretary’s face and realised that he might suspect her to be weeping. With a voice as cold as snow-buried metal, she said:
    â€˜I was not suggesting any such thing. But she is most anxious to ensure that the new legislation gets through during the life of this Parliament. If the White Paper is held up because of this board …’
    â€˜Important though you are, Willow, you are not the only member of this department to be involved in the new legislation. Mrs Trouville will not be disappointed. Now, I am afraid that I shall have to ask you to leave. I’m rather busy. Bob will give you any details you need of the Final Selection Board.’
    â€˜Thank you, Permanent Secretary,’ said Willow, determined not
    to give the man the satisfaction of hearing her being rude to him.
    By the end of the day she was asking herself bitterly why she continued to put up with the trials and tedium of her job at DOAP when she could be spending her entire time as Cressida Woodruffe, surrounded by every luxury, with enough money to work or not as she chose, and with no one in a position to give her orders or to question hers. But even as she let the question form in her mind, she controlled some of her feelings. Whatever she had thought that morning while she was still half in Cressida’s life and however frustrating the day at DOAP had been, she knew perfectly well that there were several reasons why her double life suited her, just as she knew that to spend all her time as Cressida would eventually bore and stifle her. The contrast between her two characters was in itself a pleasure and she would be prepared to put up with a lot more than the Permanent Secretary’s tiresomeness to keep it.
    She walked wearily home through the dusty, rubbish-strewn streets of Clapham at seven o’clock, trying to decide whether to cook herself fish fingers or to heat up a frozen pizza for supper, and wishing that there were no dogs in London or at least that they left fewer heaps of excrement on the pavements. As she approached her flat, she saw that