Poison Blood, Book 2: Absolution

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Poison Blood, Book 2: Absolution Page 31

by Neha Yazmin


  Chapter 4. White

  Mukti didn’t recognise the world. The city didn’t look familiar, didn’t feel like home. But when home usually felt like a stranger, why should this morning be so disorienting?

  It snowed heavily early last year and towards the end. Snow blanketed the ground for days. She’d never seen so much ice lining the pavements! The snow this year however, was worse, sticking around for longer, and it didn’t look like it was going away any time soon.

  To top it all off, Mukti had to start her first proper job today.

  She gazed out the window of the crowded, stuffy bus that was slowly and cautiously transporting her to the office block which sat on the doorstep of London Bridge. With its elegant mix of glass-decked modern office towers and aged buildings, Central London dazzled in the whiteness.

  When the bus stopped at her destination and she stepped out, Mukti looked up at the foggy white sky and it promised her more of the unseen. Even with its harsh edge, the air was fresh, and it was brighter than it ought to be in winter, light reflecting off the frosted surfaces. Around her were brown and ivory buildings, hardly scraping the sky but wide and block-like.

  In thick boots and heavy scarves, ears stuffed with earphones playing music or radio, City workers scowled at the pavements, wishing heavy rain would wash away the snow.

  Mukti headed for her new office, almost tip-toeing, so as not to sink in too deep and get her boots smothered in blotches of ice and water. Still, her feet were freezing as she reached the revolving glass entrance of the six-storey L-shaped property that sat where King William Street joined Monument Street.

  One arm of the ‘L’ drew the eyes towards The Monument to The Great Fire of London and the other arm pointed towards House of Fraser, the popular department store across the road on Gracechurch Street. The curved glass entrance looked towards London Bridge.

  She gazed at The Monument. A fire burning for four days, destroying a large part of London, was something she couldn’t get her head around. Similarly, the sheer size and height of the tall, pale-grey, fluted Doric column erected in its memory, with its spiral staircase leading to a viewing platform, the gilded urn on top, took her by surprise every time. It’s so much bigger than I see it in my mind…

  Mukti straightened her black winter coat, which she was wearing over a knee-length black skirt and matching suit jacket, one of several smart suits she’d bought over Christmas. She put her woolly hat and scarf in her black bag; she needed to look smart, not like a penguin.

  Now, the reflection in the glass indicated that she’d achieved the image she had in mind. Designer boots, coat, and bag––she could be mistaken for a high-profile executive rather than a Research Analyst at an independent research firm.

  Then the nerves kicked in. Her stomach twisted. Her heartbeat became a thud-thud in her ears. Stop it. I’ll be fine. She simply had to play the part of focused young career woman as well as she’d executed the role of driven University student up until last summer when she graduated with a degree in Economics.

  Sucking in a mouthful of freezing cold air, she stepped inside the circular enclosure that would spin her into a new phase of her life.

  Henrik didn’t like the blonde receptionist that was going to be the first face he’d see every morning when he got to work. Obviously, she thought she was better than him due to her posh English accent, whereas his had a soft Swedish edge. That has to be why she can’t find the form I need to sign to get my security pass!

  As she shuffled through the papers on her counter in the large airy, white foyer, Henrik heard the clicking of heels against the marble floor. Because he’d been leaning on the counter, he saw her pointy high-heeled boots first. Then her thin but shapely legs. A knee-length, double-breasted black coat with a belt at the waist, a nice neat collar. The girl walking towards him had a good figure and looked very smart. Definitely a fellow newbie.

  When he saw her face, he felt his lips part ever so slightly. She was quite beautiful. Stunning, in fact.

  Straight, silky black hair draped elegantly around her shoulders, down to her collarbone. Skin fair and clear. Eyes dark brown. Lips a smooth natural pale pink. Her face was oval-shaped but she had defined cheekbones and chin, a thin straight nose.

  She smiled at the receptionist when she made it to the front desk. Henrik straightened up and instinctively reached for his tie, smoothing it against his chest.

  Finally, the receptionist found his form and slid it to him. “Ah,” she said to the beauty beside Henrik, “it’s your first day too?” Did the rude receptionist just smile?

  “Yes,” the girl replied with a quick nod. “Mookti Khan.”

  What an unusual name. He’d known plenty of Khans at Uni, heard a few typical Indian and Pakistani names, but not this one.

  “Okay,” the receptionist said as though she’d find the girl’s form easily––Mookti seemed like a rarer name than Henrik. “There you go.” Darn it, she found it in seconds. “Just sign and date, please. And remember it’s the fourth of January, 2010; one of the new people signed it 2009 earlier.”

  They signed the papers and got their security cards.

  He walked to the lifts, pressed the button and when lift number 2 of 3 opened, he allowed Mookti to walk in first. Quickly and as inconspicuously as he could, Henrik glanced at his reflection in the lift’s mirror. His smart black suit, skinny red tie, and white shirt still looked immaculate. His light eyes, fair skin and golden mane of hair sparkled. With his tall, athletic build, he seemed to tower over Mookti.

  “I’m Henrik, by the way,” he said after selecting the third floor. “You're Mookti?”

  He hoped he’d pronounced her name correctly. His ‘T’ wasn’t as soft as when she’d said it, but he remembered it sounded like Book-Tee.

  “Yes, nice to meet you Henrik.” Mookti smiled, but there was no life in her smooth voice.

  But he was certain that she was as lovely as she looked, as kind and friendly as her calm voice suggested. She’d even warmed the ice-queen at reception!

  Henrik smiled. The outlook for the New Year was very good.

 

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