Inspiration point Short.

She was there, exactly where she should be, sitting under the clock the same as she had been the four other times playing with the single white rose; the sign. The only thing was she wasn’t who she was supposed to be. It wasn’t Angela. I looked closely at the flower she held; it was definitely a white rose. My contact was Angela; I didn’t know who this woman was. I stayed where I was, standing behind the rack of cheesy postcards with ‘greetings from Edinburgh’ scrawled on them, watching her. She seemed nervous; that worried me – Angela could be described as many things; hard, smart, beautiful but not nervous. When she’d sat there she sat still, statue-like except for her eyes, they were always on the moving; assessing everything and everyone that moved around the bustling train station. This one sat staring at the rose; twiddling it in her fingers ignoring everything and everyone.
She twitched suddenly, jerking her thumb back from the rose and I had another suspicion confirmed; the roses weren’t commercial. Commercial roses didn’t have thorns her one did. She wiped her thumb on the leg of her jeans and I noticed the dark stain left there. She arched round looking up at the clock then checked her watch. I had always met Angela by this time, exchanged the information. I knew she wouldn’t wait much longer. I looked around the station; someone as nervous as this would have some kind of back-up. But I could see no sign of it.
The tannoy burst into life above the station and as usual only about one word in three could be made out. I took the chance and moved out from behind the rack, circling the seats and the woman sitting there in a wide arc – she probably had my description. I sat in the seat directly behind her.
‘Where’s Angela.’ I said as the tannoy finished its garbled announcement. I heard her start to move. ‘Don’t turn around!’
She stopped.
‘Where’s Angela?’ I repeated.
‘She couldn’t make it; her boss sent her to Newcastle on business.’
I thought about this for a minute; ‘She has a contact number; she could’ve used it.’ My suspicions were roused now and I swept the vicinity with searching eyes; this was beginning to feel like a set up. But there was no sign of anything untoward; nothing out of place.
‘I don’t know about that; she asked me to come in her place…’
‘You’re supposed to keep me interested.’ I finished for her.
She started to turn but thought better of it; ‘How did you know that?’
‘I know Angela.’
‘Look this wasn’t my idea; I don’t like any of this…’
‘You should’ve stayed out of it then.’ I was growing uncomfortable with the whole situation; the time and place for the meetings hadn’t been my choice but Angela’s – always the same time always the same place. Now she wasn’t here.
‘So what happens now then?’
Her question surprised me; if she had been sent by Angela then surely she would know what happened next? I scanned the station again but there was still nothing.
‘This is Angela’s game not mine; she dictated the terms of the meeting.’
‘I heard her sigh and then she turned, so did I.
She was more beautiful than Angela; her features softer, fuller but there were similarities between them and I guessed they were sisters.
She smiled at me and I found myself doing the same.
‘Look, Angela was always a drama queen but she bores easily. The truth is…’
‘She isn’t interested anymore.’
She shrugged, ‘Sorry.’
I thought about it a moment, ‘Don’t be.’ I said finally, ‘the whole thing seemed bloody stupid to me but it kept her happy. She could’ve told me earlier though, the footie’s on.’
She grinned, ‘I know; the cup final.’ She looked at me a moment in a speculative way. ‘There’s a pub just up the road, they’ve got it in 3D; if we hurry up we could get there before the kick-off.’
I shuffled further around, ‘Are you asking me out on a date?’
‘Why not you’re cute and Angela’s loss is my gain.’
I stood up, ‘what’re we waiting for then.’
She laughed and we set out for the pub and the cup final – turns out we even support the same team.
Angela was beautiful, charming and sophisticated but she was only interested in Jerry Campbell; super-spy. Christine was just as beautiful, just as charming but she loved footie and she was interested in Jerry Campbell; Landscape Gardener.

As we were walking up the stairs to the street I saw them for the first time; there were three of them doing their very best to be inconspicuous but I’d had too many years of training and experience not to notice them or the suspicious bulges under their coats. I sighed to myself; I was going to miss the beginning of the match after all and then give Christine a very fast explanation.