BOY MEETS GRILL
Oh. It’s you.’ Craig’s expression resembled that of someone who had stepped in something unmentionable.
What was it with him? For some reason he didn’t seem to like her. Which was a shame, because under different circumstances – if, maybe, he didn’t scowl every time he saw her – she might have found him quite likeable. He was, after all, reasonably dishy. Specs, short hair, slightly geeky.
‘Hello.’ Fran opted for her usual smile and polite manner, despite his attitude. ‘I’ve come for the Bartley-Batson file.’
Almost everything was accessible via the computer, but just occasionally there was the odd ancient document that hadn’t yet been uploaded, and an old Bartley-Batson ground plan was one of them. Hence, Fran was venturing down to the basement where Craig was singlehandedly sorting, cataloguing and eventually scanning the vast archives.
HIS WORDS WERE SLURRED, HIS EYES TWITCHED
The archives were a relic from a different age.
