Strengths: Quick to learn; adaptable; loyal
Weaknesses: A conscience; contemplative; self-critical
As the driverless robo-taxi made its way towards the coastal town, an unexpected cloud of summer rainfall hovered above it. Fine droplets gently drizzled against the windscreen as Flick absorbed the countryside passing her by.
The changing climate wasn’t discouraging ramblers in waterproof jackets from following well-beaten paths through the flat fenlands. And something about the pigs taking shelter under their corrugated-iron sties made her smile. This was already a completely different world from the one she had left in London that morning. Here, there was space to breathe.
Flick was vaguely familiar with the Tudor town of Aldeburgh, located on the Suffolk coast. She had spent a long weekend there years earlier when she had tagged along on a thirtieth-birthday celebration weekend for Heidi, a friend of her brother Theo. It was a much more sedate weekend than she’d imagined. Instead of non-stop drinking, it involved beach walks, coffees in cafes and gorging on pub lunches and the seafoods the town prided itself upon.
Once equipped with a completely new identity and history, Flick had been given the choice to relocate to almost anywhere she wanted within the British Isles, her home town of London being the exception. Aldeburgh was the first place that sprang to mind. Perhaps its sedentary nature might be the perfect antidote to the constant cycle of depression she had found herself swallowed up by in London.
It had also helped that the last four months of intense physical and mental training and re-education had altered Flick’s perception of herself, her past and the decisions she’d made. It had been like an internal spring-clean. Christopher Bailey was no longer going to dictate her past, present or future.
‘Taxi, pull over,’ she said aloud and the cab decelerated, choosing a layby adjacent to the beach to come to a halt. She withdrew a blank, black numberless credit card and held it up to the paypoint until the door opened. The card resembled every other one but was completely untraceable, and gave her almost unlimited funds with which to kick-start her new life. All her possessions were now tucked inside a blue canvas rucksack slung over her shoulder. Everything else was consigned to an anonymous lock-up unit somewhere in Wales.
Her family and friends were also consigned to her past. Flick couldn’t inform anyone where she was going or what she was doing before she vanished from their lives. The team charged with rebuilding her had used her identity to inform her contacts by email that she was leaving Londonto travel the world for the foreseeable future and they could follow her adventures via social media. Carefully curated fake photographs of her had already started appearing on Instagram and Facebook and were updated regularly. Phony location check-ins and replies to direct messages were created by an algorithm. Her bank accounts, mortgage, birth certificate, driving licence, National Insurance number, National Identity Card and any reference to the old Flick Kennedy were frozen.
She had been trained to alter everything about herself, from her favoured brand of clothes and perfume to the supermarkets she shopped at, the colour of nail polish she wore and the beverages she picked at cafes and bars. All that remained of her past was what she chose to remember.
Flick exited the taxi and ignoring the rain, she reached inside her jacket for a packet of cigarettes that weren’t there.Old habits die hard, she thought. She made her way on foot across the shingled beach towards the relatively calm North Sea. Above her, a rainbow arched from empty fields towards the middle of the expanse of water. Suffused with excitement and possibility, she wanted to dive in and swim until she reached its end. Instead, she dropped her rucksack to the ground, removed her socks and trainers, rolled up her jeans and paddled.
A grin crept across her face. She couldn’t recall the last time anything or anyone had made that happen.
To Flick’s relief, Aldeburgh high street had changed very little since she’d last walked along it. By avoiding chain stores and favouring small independent boutiques, the town hadn’t suffered from the continuing boom in online retail, unlike many of its contemporaries. Clothes shops, fine art galleries and book retailers nestled amongst staples like cafes, pubs and an abundance of fish-and-chip shops, all untouched by e-commerce.
Inside a cafe, she ordered an Indian spice herbal tea, sat at a table in the corner and reached for her standard-issue mobile phone. It was the one gadget she was permitted and allowed access to a single site – ReadWell, the world’s largest website for booklovers. Millions of subscribers regularly used it to discuss novels, share opinions and leave reviews. She searched the site until she found a discussion thread with the title of Shakespeare’s playThe Two Noble Kinsmen. There were no posts under its heading which was good news. A message there would indicate something had happened and her handler Karczewski was recalling her to a safe house. She had been assured the chances of that happening were negligible.
Next on her to-do list was choosing somewhere to stay. She made her way back to the far end of the high street and to the digital information board listing a commercial breakdown of the area. Instead of sending suggestions to her phone, she had to memorise the locations of all hotels and bed and breakfasts. The smallest caught her attention and after a two-minute walk, she arrived.
As far as she could tell, the two-storey property with a ‘vacancies’ board in its front window contained two entrance and exit points. A camera was installed above a secure modern front door. Aside from that and a cable exchange cabinet two doors away, Flick reasoned the technology inside was likely to be limited, which suited her.
Driftwood sculptures were scattered about its front garden, surrounded by yellow rose bushes and a selection of vegetable crops in raised beds. The brickwork’s rendering was painted a nautical blue and there was a first-floor balcony and seats offering an unspoiled view of the sea. It was so far removed from her own contemporary London apartment that it was just what Flick was looking for.
She knocked on the door and caught her reflection in the window. She hadn’t been this toned and fit since she trained in Muay Thai martial arts classes in her twenties.The programme’s self-defence courses and regular gym workouts had helped her to shed more than 2.5 kilos. The cheekbones she hadn’t seen in years had reappeared, along with the sparkle in her brown eyes.
A young woman wearing baggy clothes and with hair tied loosely in a topknot answered. Her appearance was at odds with the building’s quaint presentation.
‘Hi, do you have any vacancies?’ Flick began.
‘We do, come in, come in,’ she replied enthusiastically and ushered Flick inside. ‘Would you like to see the rooms we have?’
Flick examined the lounge and its kitsch floral wallpaper, matching curtains and sofa fabric. ‘No, I’m sure it’s fine,’ she replied.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said the girl. ‘It’s like Laura Ashley and Cath Kidston came to visit and exploded, isn’t it?’
‘It has a charm about it.’
‘It was my mum’s place, she passed away last year. Alzheimer’s. It got the better of her a fortnight before the meds to cure it were given a licence and became available to buy.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ For a second, her gaze fell and Flick recognised her grief was still raw. ‘I’ve taken it on until I either decide what to do with it or I’m swallowed up and spat out by the chintz. I’m Grace, by the way.’
The two women shook hands as Grace explained the rates and amenities. ‘How long do you think you might be staying for?’
Flick shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Shall I put you down for a week for now?’
