18
The meeting had gone on far too long. Salmon rubbed his eyes and tried to clear them of the accumulated grit. He’d sat there since five o’clock and his stomach rumbled for lack of food. He’d gone down to the shop and bought himself a pre-packed sandwich and a bottle of Coke. That was the sum total of his dinner. The school had provided some refreshment, but not a great deal. A scattering of coffee mugs and bits of biscuit were all that remained of the frugal offerings. They hadn’t been enough and now he felt sick and tired.
They had talked without stop. Over and over, the same damned thing. The film crew, what they needed, where they couldn’t go, what they couldn’t do. And all it needed was for one person to raise some trivial point-of-order, or make some needless objection and the wh
