Forget Me Never

though my hair and hoping I looked smart enough, I pressed the intercom by the gate. A woman’s voice answered, ‘Hello?’
    ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Reece Osbourne, starting work experience here today. I’ve been told to report to Cherie.’
    ‘Oh yes, we’re expecting you. Come in.’
    There was a buzz and I pushed the gate open. It was then that I got my first proper look at Vaughan-Bayard Pharmaceuticals. The only pictures I’d been able to find online had been of the top of the building, which was about all you could see from the street, thanks to the walls ringing the site. Even the gate was solid metal, preventing passers-by from seeing through. If the thrillers I’d seen on telly were to be believed, pharmaceutical companies had every reason to be intensely secretive.
    As I walked through the yard towards reception I studied the building. For somewhere cutting edge it looked quite old and a bit shabbier than I’d been expecting. Still, I guessed it’d be a lot swisher inside.
    The polished marble reception was more like it – light and airy with plush leather sofas. Rows of photos on the walls showed serious-looking people who were apparently the company directors. They’d be rocking fun on a night out – not , I thought. The receptionist told me to take a seat.
    After about ten minutes Cherie arrived.
    ‘You must be Reece. Lovely to meet you; did you get here OK?’
    ‘Er . . . fine.’ I found myself tongue-tied. Cherie looked like a supermodel. Well, maybe more a movie star – way too hot for someone who worked in a place like this. Her hair was dyed dark red and she wore shoes and lipstick the same colour. She was much taller than me, even without the heels she was wearing. She had a natural authority to her that told me she got stuff done and didn’t take any crap.
    Cherie raised an eyebrow and I felt myself blush. I had a feeling she knew exactly what I was thinking. She probably had this effect on everyone and was well aware of it.
    ‘You’ll need to hand over your phone every morning,’ she said, nodding to the security guard standing by the reception desk. ‘No one who works here is allowed to bring their mobile on site. You can collect it at the end of the day.’
    This was a blow. I’d been planning to text Soph with exciting little updates throughout the day. But there was no point arguing, so I did as Cherie said. I also had to walk through a machine which looked very similar to the ones they used for security checks at airports, presumably to make sure I wasn’t taking in anything I shouldn’t be.
    ‘I’ve a timetable for you,’ Cherie said, leading me down a corridor with the same floor pattern as reception. The air felt a little damp. It reminded me of the science block in Broom Hill. ‘You’re going to have a crash course in each of our different departments to give you an idea of what we do and how we do it. We can’t really give you any depth of knowledge in a week though. Sound OK?’
    ‘Yeah.’ She was walking very quickly. It was difficult to keep up with her. ‘I’m thinking of doing something science-based when I apply to uni, possibly pharmacy, so any first-hand experience is great.’
    We came to a staircase. Cherie led me up to the second floor and through a door with a plaque on it, reading: ‘Giles McIntyre, Head of Research’. She swiped her staff card to get in – most doors seemed to be security protected, which wasn’t going to make poking about easy. The room inside had another door leading off it – to another office, I guessed – and a very neat desk, filing cabinets and a water cooler. Cherie poured me a glass, which I gulped down. It was a lot hotter here than it had been down below.
    ‘Now,’ Cherie said, settling at the desk and gesturing for me to pull over the seat by the coat stand, ‘I don’t usually deal with work-experience kids myself, but as you’re Sophie’s friend I’m making an exception. How much do you know about Vaughan-Bayard?’
    I’d done my homework. If I was going to be convincing in my role as a keen future pharmacist, I needed to be able to blag. Luckily, blagging came naturally to me. I repeated what I’d read on Wikipedia.
    Cherie nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. We have other research centres elsewhere in the UK. We’re one of the largest independent British pharmaceutical companies. Most are owned by conglomerates now, often stateside.’
    ‘So do you manufacture things we see in the shops, or