‘Why don’t you sit down? I don’t want to conduct this interview standing. We may be here some time.’
She sank uneasily on to a chair.
‘You’re smaller than I remembered,’ he remarked.
‘Tall enough to satisfy the height requirement.’
Joe picked up a pencil and scratched a note for himself: 5′6″?
‘And younger.’
‘I lied about my age. Sir.’
A swift glance into the unblinking, innocent eyes told him she was certainly lying now. Personal details of recruits were meticulously checked. Joe knew when he was being needled. He wrote again, taking his time: 26, could pass for 18. Insubordinate?
‘And your weight, miss? You would appear to be … er … not exactly well covered in the flesh department.’
He’d clearly touched a nerve at last. The nostrils flared and her voice when she replied was glacial: ‘After eight years of privation, sir, are we surprised? There’s been a war on.’