7
I’ve been in the staff room since 6:45 a.m., and the only person I’ve seen so far is Darren, coming off a nightshift—looking extremely tired and pissed off. I gave him a polite smile, and in fairness he did return one, but it definitely looked strained. No sign of Andrew though. Roger let me in earlier. He gave me an ID badge, told me to wear it on my chest with pride, and for me not to lose it. I look a little shell-shocked in the photo—but who the hell cares?
I’m a Cleaner!
It’s almost eight by the time Andrew walks through the door, wearing just his grey joggers and a T-shirt, and carrying a metal briefcase. “Hi, Cath,” he says, seeming all flustered and rushed, like someone just dragged him out of bed. “Sorry I’m late. We got a late call last night. False alarm though. Just some c
