EIGHTEEN
Emma returned to her post five minutes early, but a glance along the counter revealed Marj’s place remained empty. Foolish woman, she knew that, like Sarah, Tony Buretto expected his staff to be punctual. And drinking during working hours – Emma had smelt whisky on her colleague’s breath – what on earth was she thinking? Unless dismissal was her aim? Emma refused to speculate on how much Marj knew about what happened to those deemed unemployable, so turned her attention to the citizens waiting in line.
She had processed two and was about to ask a third to step forward when Marj finally appeared. ‘All right?’ she asked, turning her head slightly.
‘Fine, thanks.’
Minty breath wafted over Emma’s shoulder. ‘Good,’ she murmured before turning back to her queue. Her strategy of work
