She briefly teamed up with him on an Ibiza assignment but something marked her out that lingers in the mind of William Cook
We met at the airport, as arranged, at the easyJet ticket desk. We’d only spoken on the phone. It was the first time I’d seen her. I noticed her tattoo straight away. An uneven circle on her upper arm, a wheel of life or a rising sun, it was crude and bold, like a tribal mark or runic symbol. It looked far older than the body it was etched upon. It was unlike any tattoo I’d ever seen. We were flying to Ibiza together a dozen years ago. It wasn’t a holiday, it was work – well, sort of. I was writing a story for a newspaper, one of their so-called ‘sponsored features’ (you can still write what you like – more or less – but the sponsor foots the bill). Posher journalists tend to be a bit sniffy about this sort of PR hackery. I couldn’t afford...
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