I'm really sorry, there was a slight typo in the last chapter where Sadie called her Molly. It shouldn't have been there and I'll get it changed - I'm just soooo used to typing Molly but thanks for pointing it out …. Thanks as always for reading - it is much appreciated Wxx

"I think once all this crap is over, I might want to be a security guard." Obviously I'd need a chair that would fit as currently my legs are dangling 2 inches above the floor in the bland concierge 'office', and to spin myself around I have to use far too much hip movement. "I think I'd be a natural."

My companion, Quaseem, is concentrating intently at the massive bank of screens on one side of the 'office', yet still manages to let out a snort that makes me think he isn't of the opinion I should be doing his job.

"What?" I ask "Why do you think I wouldn't be?"

Taking a sip of the tea I made, he shakes his head grimacing because he still can't fathom why we put milk in it. "You have the attention span of a ….. a….. how do you say it in this country?"

"NASA scientist?" I suggest.

"Goldfish."

I grin, "Apparently, the majority of humans these days have an attention span less than a goldfish due to all this technology crap, so if I've got the attention span of a goldfish then I'm doin' better than them eh?"

Quaseem stands and stretches, I would say he's giggling but it's too husky and rich a sound for it to be described as that. "Tell me Polly. What are you doing down here anyway?"

It's not fair to say I don't trust myself, but well, when you've got yourself into as much crap as I have recently then I have to admit I don't; or to be exact I don't trust the world around me to not play some shit that would cause drama with my neighbour - a promise is a promise after all and I said there would be no drama. So, exactly one hour before his son and ex were due to arrive I popped down to see my best mate Quaseem, and here I shall stay until the coast is clear and she's left. My location also means Charles opening his front door and finding the bag of brownie ingredients (and baking tin) with a foolproof recipe for him to make with his son, I can watch as often as I like. I'm sure I saw him smile and in an even more positive move, he didn't head over to my door and try to get me to take them back - mega result.

"Just wanted to spend time with you, that's all." I say nonchalantly, rewinding the tape to allow me to watch the moment again. Part of what I like about coming down here and genuinely enjoying the company of Quaseem is the comfortable silence; I'm with someone but don't feel I have to fill every second with inane chat. There's at least 3 minutes of silence before I find myself asking: "Do you miss Afghan?"

It's something I've yet to ask. I know he loves the place, or should I say loved before the Taliban took over, but I'm interested to know if he thinks he made the right decision.

"Every day Polly." He sighs deeply. "I feel that I've been torn from my own country, even though this was all my choice. Everyday I miss everything about my country. Afghanistan lives here." Quaseem places his hand across his chest. "The sounds, the heat, the people - well the genuine Afghan people, not the Taliban - and of course my family, I miss my family greatly."

"What if you met a girl here?... Or a boy?" I ask softly.

"A Boy?"

"A man." I blush.

Quaseem chuckles. "No Polly. I loved my wife. There will be no other."

"What happened?"

"The Taliban, a bomb. I lost everything. That is why what you are doing, Polly, you have to do it. You have to save someone else's wife and daughter, if you can. You are doing the right thing." Quaseem has the most beautiful brown eyes and expression, I get caught up in it.

"I dunno' about that. I'm shittin' myself half the time Quaseem. Did I see what I thought, did I just put that young girl in danger 'cause I was fragged from my last tour…. I dunno'"

"Believe in yourself."

"Can I?" I ask genuinely, raising my shoulders as I do. "Everythin' I do seems to go to shit. I'm just scared that….."

"You're scared at what Polly?"

"That I've ruined a young girl's life. What would have happened if I hadn't befriended her Quaseem? What if I hadn't seen her old man that day. Would her life be better? Would my life be better?" I ask selfishly.

"Believe in yourself. There is an old Afghan proverb that says 'I have never seen anyone go astray who followed along the right way', and you are doing the right thing." Quaseem looks to the screen in front of me. "He's a good man."

I let out a snigger at the sight of Charles standing freeze framed looking into a plastic bag, it's a welcome relief from the serious chat of before. "Is he?" I ask, surprised at how much I want Quaseem to like my neighbour.

"Who?"

Quaseem and I both with surprise turn at the new voice. We're greeted by the sight of my other witness protection officer, between him and Elvis, I prefer Elvis. This one I'm never quite sure about, he unsettles me, I always feel like he's got the upperhand. "I got 8 points for you in a game of scrabble the other night." I say sweetly.

"How nice. Though Bones ain't exactly an intellectual answer is it?"

"It was Boner actually, 'cause I'm sure that is really your name."

Bones eyes narrow. I sit up straighter.

"Call me Boner one more time darlin', and I'm telling you-"

I can't resist. It's too easy.

"Boner."

"Children." Admonishes Quaseem. "Behave."

"What's she doing down here anyway?" Bones asks like I've been robbed of my hearing.

"She, ain't the cat's mother, 'n' I can answer that myself. I'm keeping Quaseem company." I swing myself around in the chair - like a bond villain - for good measure. "Mind you, I ain't ever understood that sayin' the cat's mother-"

"You shouldn't be down here."

Quaseem ignores Bones to give me a look of confusion. "The Cat's Mother, what does that have to-"

"It's just one of these things you say, like no point cryin' over spilled milk… though I can see where that came from."

"What does that mean-" Quaseem grins.

"I SAID, you shouldn't be down here."

Mouthing to Quaseem 'what's his problem.' doesn't work. Quaseem can speak shit loads of languages but obviously has trouble lip reading. "Quaseem, What is 'what's his problem' in Pashto, I'm asking for a mate?" I ask with a grin.

"Because you're in a safe house for a reason. Safe." Answers Bones.

"I'm safe down here." Turning I attempt to move the tape on from Charles opening his door, the last thing I need is Bones thinking I'm stalking my neighbour, unfortunately, just as I get to the bit of Charles welcoming his son, I feel Bones breath on my neck and his hand is placed over mine to stop.

"Perving on your neighbour." His breath is hot and unsettling. "He's a twat."

"Do you know him?" I ask innocently, resisting the urge to wipe away any trace from our close encounter.

"Mmmm, least said the better."

"Do you know him through the Army?" I try.

Bones gives an arrogant shrug. "Let's just say I wouldn't trust him to lead a group of boy scouts in a Blue Peter make and do session."

"In my experience." I take a deep dramatic sigh. "When someone goes around bad mouthin' someone else, it tends to be 'cause they've done something crap themselves 'n' just don't want to take ownership for their actions."

Quaseem nods in agreement, and dare I say it but a bit of proudness flashes across his features. I get the impression not many people back chat to Bones. Behind Quaseem is a different story, Bones is staring in such a way that hopefully when I go back to the Army we'll never cross paths and my gaze moves on to find the safety of watching a screen.

"Wait a minute… what the fuck is that." I push up out of my chair and point.

There's silence.

"That's my bedroom…" A view from outside but nevertheless you can see my bed with it's pink velvet throw. "What the fu.."

There is no way this is happening. No way on earth. It's bad enough having your every move controlled without sleeping knowing someone can see you. I feel the walls closing in around me. A panic attack bubbling inside of me. I have to stop this. Now.

"Polly. Oh shit. Stop." I hear the words from Bones, but they have no effect on me. I'm going. No one can stop me.

I'm at the lift in record time. Stabbing the button repeatedly until the lift opens and with impressive dexterity I press my floor and the close door button to help speed up my journey. Thankfully I make it just in time to watch the doors practically close on Bones face. He ain't happy. But I don't care, this is beyond unfair. There's a human rights act to give people privacy and surely I should be entitled to some. I know my life is boring and the most action my bed has are a few fun thoughts about my neighbour that I would never admit to anyone but those moments are the highlight of my current life.

By the time I'm on my floor, rage is pulsing through my veins and I finally know what they mean by 'seeing red'.

"You can see into my bedroom, you bloody perverts." I scream at the two boiler suited guys standing on my balcony with a screwdriver and a top of the range motion following camera gig. The two guys mouths drop in unison, it would be funny if I wasn't so bloody angry.

"We're only doing what we were asked." Replies the shorter one. In some part of my subconsciousness I'm aware of movement on the balcony on the other side, but I'm in too much of a rage to really think about it.

"Were you asked to put a camera up so that everyone could see my bloody room. There is such a thing as privacy." I say pointing to my bedroom.

"Tell them to come in." Bones hisses, slightly out of breath from just inside the french doors. "And bloody behave yourself."

I turn to tell him that he needs to come out and tell them himself when I remember he knows Charles and I presume doesn't want to be seen. Bones also has an extremely red face; I think he took the stairs. I cross my arms and smirk.

"You tell them."

"Look if you want me to get them to change the angle, then I suggest you tell them to get in here, or I'm sorry darling, you'll just have to put up with keeping your curtains closed whenever you want 'alone' time."

"That is disgusting."

"Well." Bones stands his ground.

"Oi. Your boss wants to see you. Inside Now."

The two guys mumble something inaudible, packing their toolkit and leaving me with the sight of Charles standing behind them on his balcony, arms crossed as he watches the 'drama' I'm creating. We stare at each other for a few seconds, my heart starts racing and my mouth goes slightly dry for some reason, only for him to end the exchange with a disappointed shake of his head and an arm around his son to 'protect' him from the mad woman on the other side no doubt.

"Oh shit." I say to myself, rolling my eyes and sighing at how I've managed to cause trouble yet again. Inside is a similar story of disappointment in my actions. Bones gives me a steely look before hissing.

"Sort it."

"How?"

"I don't know, think of something. Or I'll bloody get you moved to John 'o' Groats quicker than you can say watford gap."

As soon as they've all left, I grab my notebook and write :

Google - What country is Johnogroats in.

Google - Human Rights Act and learn it in its entirety.