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even if I had been better read, the connection probably wouldn’t have made me suspicious. I would have just assumed it was a coincidence. I mean, these things happen, sometimes people have funny names.
    I shake my head and sigh. Other people aren’t as easy to cheat as I am. Which probably says a lot about how incredibly naive I am. Naive and dumb. And homeless.
    “Shit.” I say it out loud before I’ve had time to think about how inappropriate the word is. But it does me good. There’s no other word to describe my situation, after all.
    But I look over at Annie. Did I just shock her? The corners of her mouth are twitching.
    “Yes,” she says, “it’s pretty shitty.”
    We both start to laugh at almost the same moment.
    “Perhaps your fake landlord really is a modern avenger of the poor. Then at least you can comfort yourself with the thought that your deposit has gone to a good cause.”
    Haha. I smile, but then I turn serious again. “Do you think there’s any point in going to the police?”
    Annie nods. “We’re definitely going to do that, it won’t hurt,” she says, and I love her for that; ‘We.’ Does that mean that she’s not going to abandon me? “But that won’t solve your accommodation problem.” She peers at me, frowning.
    “I could go to a B&B for now,” I say, but even I can tell how pathetic I sound. Exhaustion has finally hit me with its full force, and the thought of having to spend ages looking for a suitable room depresses me more than I can say. My eyes are glistening with tears again; I can’t help it.
    “No.” Annie looks at me staunchly. “I’ve got a much better idea.” Grinning broadly, she places her arms on the desk and bends over toward me. “For now, you’re coming back to my place.”
    “Do you mean it?” The offer sounds so tempting that I can hardly believe it.
    She nods. “I share an apartment in Islington with two nice guys. We have a spare room at the moment; you can definitely stay there tonight. And then we’ll work something out. What do you think?”
    What do I think? I think that I’m the luckiest person in all London and that my world is suddenly OK again and that I could hug Annie French.
    “You’re the greatest,” I say, and as we smile at each other, I can tell that I’ve made a new friend.
    “That’s settled then,” she replies, with a mischievous smile. “And now back to work.” She looks at the clock. “The department meeting starts in ten minutes. Have you read through the reports?”
    I confirm that I have and she nods, satisfied. Her colleague Shadrach Alani returns and takes a stack of papers from his desk. He smiles at me. “You coming?” We leave the office together and I feel at ease with my fate once more.

5
    We take the Northern Line and in twenty minutes we’re at the subway stop with the pretty name, Angel, where we get off.
    “We still have a bit of a walk from here,” Annie explains and I groan inwardly because the suitcase is a real impediment. I wish we were already there.
    But once we’re walking, I forget about the weight I’m dragging after me and look around fascinated. Islington is a really pretty neighborhood. An unbroken row of two-story houses, some modern, some old but lovingly renovated, extends along the tree-lined street and there are all kinds of small stores and boutiques with weird and wonderful displays: vintage clothes, art, furniture, gourmet food, and baked goods. My heart leaps when I realize this is the London I definitely want to conquer.
    Annie sees my look of longing and laughs. “Fancy going on a lengthy shopping trip with a Londoner sometime soon?”
    I nod enthusiastically. “You bet I do.” Perhaps I’ll have a chance to discover my new roommate’s fashion secrets after all.
    We walk a little further then Annie turns left onto a short street that ends in a cul-de-sac ending at a wall. Almost all the houses here look identical: two-story, brown brick buildings with pretty