Page 21 of Pure Recklessness

Maybe I’d see if it was possible to get an ebook version instead…

After shoving the paperback in my handbag, I answered. Typical that my phone worked on the Tube now, but didn’t when I needed it earlier this morning.

‘Hi, Mum!’ I said as the phone began to cut out. Clearly, I’d just jinxed it.

‘Your dad’s on the line too.’

‘Can I call you back? I’m on the Tube and the service is patchy.’

‘Of course, darling,’ she replied.

Once I arrived home, I pulled my phone out.

‘Hello, darling!’ Mum said excitedly. ‘Hold on. Let me get your father. Harold! Ellie’s on the phone!’

‘How’s my little girl?’ Dad said when he joined the call. I winced. He used it as a term of endearment, but he really did treat me like a child. I knew it was because he loved me, but I just wished he’d start seeing me as a grown woman.

‘I’m good, thanks. How are you both?’

Mum then launched into a long story about how they’d spent the afternoon cutting the grass, pulling out the weeds and trimming the rose bushes.

‘Any news on the work front?’ Mum asked.

‘Yes! I got a job!’ I said, excitement bubbling in my voice.

‘Wonderful!’ Mum said.

‘Where?’ Dad asked sternly. ‘It’s nothing seedy is it? You hear so many horror stories about people in London. Felicity from the greengrocers told me that her first cousin’s husband’s uncle had a daughter who went there to study and ended up becoming a prostitute!’

‘Good heavens!’ Mum gasped. ‘Surely not?’

‘It’s true!’ he insisted. ‘It all started when she became a… What did she call it again? Yes, that’s right. A Sugar Baby.’

‘Sugar Baby?’ Mum questioned.

‘Yes, dear. Apparently, it’s when young girls get taken advantage of by older men who pay them for different… services.’

‘That’s horrific!’ Mum said. ‘It shouldn’t be allowed. Older men preying on younger vulnerable women like that.’

‘I’m not a Sugar Baby or turning to prostitution.’ I blew out a frustrated breath. They had a tendency to worry a lot, which was hard to deal with.

‘Where are you working?’ Dad pressed.

‘I’m…’ My voice trailed off as I realised that I couldn’t tell them.

My parents were very… traditional. A little prudish.

Okay, very prudish. That was probably why it’d rubbed off on me.

If I told them I was working at a company that produced lipstick-shaped vibrators, monster tentacles that you could attach to the shower wall (or any other surface of your choice) to have intercourse with or synthetic arms that were inserted into buttholes, Mum wouldn’t just be clutching her pearls. She’d pass out on the spot.

And as for my father, he’d drive straight to London and drag me back to the village where he’d invite the priest to stage an intervention and cleanse my soul.

No. For my own wellbeing and theirs, it was better that they didn’t know.

Anyway, I was only going to be working at Sated for a few more days if I was lucky, so it didn’t really matter. Soon the rest of the staff would be back at the office, so they wouldn’t need me any more.

‘I’m working for a… an international company. They do lots of different things.’