Chapter 3

By the following Monday he felt that he’d regained some of his equilibrium, despite spending part of nearly every day listening out for Richard’s voice in the main office. He’d never been Richard’s direct supervisor, but they worked in the same area and Richard was a junior member of the same team.

The office was quiet when he got in. He didn’t pick up on the fact that there was anything wrong until his boss, Reginald Portnoy, put his head around his door shortly after the floor opened.

“McManus old chap, could I have a word in my office?”

“Of course, sir, I’ll be right there.”

Portnoy was standing by the window overlooking the square, fidgeting with his pipe, when Phil tapped on the open door and went in.

“The thing is, McManus, there’s been complaint.” He went straight for the throat as he turned. Phil felt his breath catch.

“What?” he said, intelligently.

“A complaint. About you.”

“A complaint?” Phil felt a bit faint. He grabbed at the back of the chair in front of him.