MICHAEL
"Sally, you got a minute?"
"Sure Mr Summerford, so long as it's only a minute." She waves back at the sea of activity in the kitchen. "I've got seventy covers to get out in the next hour or so." She turns from her counter, dips into a roiling pot with what is apparently an asbestos finger, sucking at some kind of liquid. She nods to a young lad in a white apron, "That's fine, Billy. Now poach the fish in the stock. Six minutes. No more." Then she turns her attention to me.
"Yes, only a minute. Um, somewhere quiet if you don't mind."
She puckers brows but follows me to the outer corridor. "Is something wrong?"
"Um, not sure.... Look, this is kind of embarrassing, but I received a report that James had been.... er.... bothering you.... Is there any truth to that?"
Her face clea
