THREE
AN INTERVIEW LIKE NO OTHER
Alex
Deep breaths. Walk. One foot in front of the other.
Head up. Back straight. I wasn’t exactly back on the parade ground, but mind and muscle memory kicked in, grounding me.
Calming me as I stepped off the tube and amongst the throng of commuters, tourists, and locals, I headed for the escalator and fresh air, as fresh as it gets in London, anyway.
The walk to Laker Security was only ten minutes from the underground station.
I had my trainers on, and despite wearing a trousers and jacket, leisure footwear did not look out of place.
My heels, for the actual interview, were tucked in my bag.
I planned to change shoes just around the corner from the offices where, according to my maps app, there was a coffee shop.
I was thirty minutes early for my interview. That was in my comfort zone. I didn’t do late.
The coffee shop wasn’t too busy, and after grabbing a latte and resisting the urge to try a new blueberry matcha muffin, because no one wanted to arrive at an interview with blueberry stuck in their teeth, I took a seat by the window.
I consoled myself with the thought that I would make some muffins when I got home later.
I mean, what else was a single female living on her own supposed to do in the evenings?
From my seat, I could see down the street where Laker Security was located.
Nestled among a row of Georgian terraced buildings, all with their black railing, black front doors and white exterior, it said unassuming and discreet.
Perfect for me. I wanted this job. Like, really wanted it.
Bank nursing was okay. I had chosen it for a reason, never being in one place too long, not having an obvious routine, not getting too comfortable in one place, not getting too familiar with people.
It had been a purposeful choice. I applied the same rules to where I lived, and the rolling tenancy agreements facilitated the need to be on the move every few months.
I sipped my latte, noting that my hand was steady as I lifted the cup and set it down.
A quick glance around the café, and no one seemed to be paying me any attention.
I wasn’t the only person getting coffee on their own.
A kid and his dad sat across the aisle, laughing at something on the dad’s phone.
And the woman sitting at the table behind them was tapping furiously away at the keyboard of her laptop.
I toed the heel of my trainers and slipped my feet out, before taking my heels from my bag and doing a quick swap.
I looked up and caught the eye of the kid at the other table.
He looked down at my feet and then back up at me.
I smiled and winked, putting my finger to my mouth like it were a secret.
He grinned back. The dad hadn’t noticed. He was busy clearing their table.
‘Come on, let’s go, Noah,’ he said, and then they were gone.
I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes.
Breathe.
A quick nip to the ladies to make sure I really didn’t have anything stuck in my teeth, tie my hair back in a ponytail, a dash of body spray, and then I was good to go.
I looked at my reflection. Professional. Calm. Competent.
‘Right, Laker Security, here I come.’
‘If you would like to take a seat, I’ll let Mr Laker know you’re here,’ said the woman behind the reception desk. Her name badge said Miranda.
The reception room had once been the master sitting room, with a deep bay window overlooking the street. In the centre stood a Christmas tree, tastefully decorated with sparkling white fairy lights, with neatly wrapped gift boxes arranged beneath its branches.
It must have only been a minute or so before a gentleman in a suit, sporting a bow tie and overly large black glasses, entered the room. He smiled at me.
‘Alex Cartwright?’
‘Good morning,’ I replied, getting to my feet.
His professional smile briefly morphed into something holding a hint of amusement.
‘I’m Cheng, Oliver Laker’s assistant. Please, come this way.’
I followed Cheng up a flight of stairs to the first floor, to a large room at the front of the building.
A boardroom, with a large glass table in the centre and leather chairs lining each side.
I took the seat Cheng offered, while he sat opposite me, advising me that Oliver would be there any minute.
And he was.
On the dot of ten-thirty, he walked into the boardroom.
‘Good morning?—’
He stopped mid-sentence, glanced at Cheng, and then back at me.
His dark hair highlighted his equally dark eyes, which widened just a fraction at the sight of me.
I stood up and held out my hand to him. ‘Alexiandra Cartwright, but most people call me Alex.’
His recovery, or whatever it was that shocked him, was over in a second. Oliver shook my hand. ‘You’re Alex Cartwright?’
I nodded. ‘That’s right.’
I withheld the sigh, as it was pretty clear my gender was something of a surprise to him. In fact, I would go as far as to say it was a disappointment to him.
‘Joe Harrington’s recommendation?’ he asked, as if double-checking my purpose for being there.
‘Yes. Joe and I were in the army together.’
I looked down at our hands, still locked together long after the handshake. Oliver Laker looked down too and immediately released my hand.
‘Please, sit down.’
Something flickered in his expression. It was almost annoyance.
Or was it resentment? I had seen it countless times before.
The slight narrowing of eyes, the barely perceptible straightening of posture.
He was switching mental gears, recalibrating his expectations once he saw I was a woman.
I could feel the familiar knot form in my stomach.
The one that tightened whenever I needed to prove myself all over again.
I looked him directly in the eye. ‘Joe said he’d spoken to you about me.’
‘Yes. He did,’ replied Oliver. ‘Please, Alex, sit down. You don’t mind if I use your first name, do you? We like to be on first-name terms with each other here.’
‘That suits me.’
‘So, you’ve already met my assistant, Cheng.’ Oliver nodded in Cheng’s direction. ‘He’s part of the recruitment team.’
There was a knock at the door as it opened and in walked another man. I did a double take. It was the same man who I saw at the café with the boy.
‘Ah, this is my brother, Aaron,’ said Oliver.
‘Good morning,’ said Aaron. He walked casually across the room. He smiled at me, which was almost identical to his brother’s smile, but without the tension I noticed in Oliver’s jaw. Aaron held out his hand as I got to my feet. ‘Aaron Laker, pleased to meet you.’
‘Alex Cartwright.’
He hesitated before his smile turned into a grin. ‘You’re Alex?’ he said, echoing his brother’s words.
‘Yes. This is Alex,’ said Oliver.
Aaron let out a laugh. ‘Oh, you’re not the kind of Alex we were expecting.’
‘I’m beginning to realise,’ I said.
Aaron took the seat next to his brother. ‘I take it you didn’t know.’
‘No,’ replied Oliver.
‘But Joe gave the recommendation.’
‘Yes.’
‘And he never said?’
‘No.’
Oliver gave his brother a look that said someone was in the shit for this.
I cleared my throat. ‘Joe obviously was having a joke at our expense,’ I said. ‘But if he has recommended me, then it shouldn’t be an issue.’
My voice came out steadier than I felt. I half felt like getting up and walking out there and then, but I wanted to give them a chance to readjust to the fact that I was a woman. It would be a good measure of them.
‘No, of course not,’ said Aaron. ‘We believe in judging someone by their actions, and if you’ve come recommended by Joe, then you are definitely up for the job.’ He gave his brother a nudge. ‘So, shall we begin the interview?’
Oliver looked at me for a moment. I returned the gaze.
Finally, he spoke. ‘Exactly what Aaron said.’
He rested his arms on the table. ‘Let me start by telling you a bit more about the position, what we actually do, and what this role involves.’
He opened the folder in front of him. ‘You already know the basics of Laker Security. We’re a global operation with high-profile clients, close protection, and risk management.
All of that is correct. But the position we’re looking to fill isn’t a standard security role.
It’s based in Scotland, near Inverness. Full-time.’
‘Yes, Joe explained that to me, and I did some of my own research before applying,’ I said.
‘We’re developing the site as a dual-purpose facility,’ Oliver continued. ‘Luxury holiday lodge on one side of the loch and a rehabilitation retreat for veterans on the other. What we need is someone to head up the medical operations on the ground. We’re calling it Head of Medical Ops for now.’
‘What does that mean in practice?’ I asked.
‘It means you’d be our first, and in most cases, our only line of medical response. The nearest hospital is over an hour away.’
‘More in bad weather,’ put in Aaron.
‘You wouldn’t be replacing a GP, but you’d be expected to function as a triage service.
Assess, stabilise, escalate where necessary.’
Oliver ticked the points off without looking at his notes.
‘You’d manage medication for any of the veterans in residence, liaise regularly with the local GP at Risk, that’s the nearest town.
And you would deliver first aid training to staff on site.’
‘And that’s just the medical side,’ said Aaron.
‘We’re also introducing equine therapy as part of the veterans’ programme.
There’s strong evidence behind it. Working with horses helps with PTSD, anxiety, and rebuilding trust.
We’ll have a small number on site. You wouldn’t be expected to run any of the sessions, that’s our other brother, Dom, in charge of that.
But you might have to deal with any horse-related incidents.’
Oliver glanced at his brother. ‘We’re hoping it becomes one of the things that sets us apart from other retreat programmes.’
‘Dom’s also working on getting a therapy dog trained up and certified,’ continued Aaron. ‘Same principle. Sometimes it’s easier to reconnect with an animal than a person.’
‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Animals give a lot back that you don’t always get from humans.’
‘Yeah. We’re really excited about that side of things,’ said Aaron.
‘Because of your military background, there’s a secondary element,’ said Oliver, moving the conversation on.