I know journalists probably earn more than bartenders, but not by this much. I suppose it only makes sense that he’s charmed his way into a place like this. But then Ben’s always managed to fall on his feet. He said a mate helped sort him out with it, someone he knew from his student days. I still can’t quite believe this swanky apartment building is where Ben’s been living. If I crane my neck I can see what might be a roof garden on the top, the spiky shapes of the trees and shrubs black cut-outs against the night sky. A big sprawl of ivy growing all over the front of it which looks like a creeping dark stain. Five or six stories, huge windows, all with wrought-iron balconies. It’s set back from the road behind a big gate with a high wall on either side, concealing what must be some sort of garden or courtyard. The others on this street are beautiful, but this one knocks spots off them all.
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