My heart starts to thump as I take in my situation properly for the first time. I am staying in a strange couple’s house under completely false pretenses. I’ve slept in their bed. I’m wearing one of Trish’s old T-shirts. They even gave me a toothbrush, after I invented a suitcase-stolen-on-the-train story. The last thing I remember is hearing Trish gloating on the phone. “She’s English!” she was saying. “Yes, speaks English perfectly! Super girl. Cordon Bleu trained!”
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