Will Wiles - The Way Inn

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well, not entirely, no. I’m talking to you.’

‘Did you have a good day?’

‘Not really,’ I said. A bit of vulnerability and candour would help me here, I calculated. ‘One of the sessions I attended turned out to be a premeditated attack on my business, and on me personally.’

‘What, an attack on conference surrogacy?’

My glass almost slipped from my hand. The ball-bearing of anxiety that had been spinning at high speed in my abdomen broke apart, sending splinters ripping through my viscera. She knew? How? Was it common knowledge already?

‘You know about that?’

‘I can imagine it wouldn’t go down too well here. It’s also a novelty, I suppose, and that can disturb people.’

‘How did you hear about it?’

‘Hear about what?’

‘That I’m a conference surrogate. Who told you?’

‘You told me,’ she said, narrowing her eyes. ‘You don’t remember?’

I narrowed my eyes too, as if focusing the moment in my mind, which was in fact a total blank. I couldn’t remember talking with Rosa at any length before, let alone telling her something like that. ‘No, no, sure,’ I said.

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