Richard
“Afternoon, Francis.”
“Good afternoon, Mr Haswell.” My PA smiles as she looks up, offering me a folder. “These need your signature.” As I take the folder from her, eyes wide, she jerks her head towards the door of James’ office, standing slightly ajar.
I mouthe the word to her, silently. “What?”
She shrugs and splays her fingers.
Something bothering him?
In a normal tone again, “What’s in my diary for this afternoon, Francis?”
“Nothing for the next two hours, sir.”
I nod then walk quietly to James’ door, pushing it open a little more to see inside. James is there, apparently lost to the world.
On one of the low couches overlooking the view of the City, his long legs outstretched, he sits with the back of his fist pressed to his mouth. His laptop lies open and ignored on th
