Of course, I’m only a couple of steps from my desk, when my phone rings with that single beep of an internal call. Surely Ryan can’t have read the piece and found fault with it already … Briefly, I contemplate ignoring the call and going to get my coffee anyway, but I know curiosity will nag at me until I find out who it is and what they want. So I answer, and am surprised to hear Lisa from reception on the other end of the line.

‘Ingrid,’ she says in a tone which I’m familiar with.

It’s the ‘appease the public at any cost’ tone, which she uses when someone has been giving her a hard time over the phone or, worse still, at her reception desk.

‘There’s a Liam Doherty here to see you. I’ve told him that the paper is just about to go to print and you’re very busy, but he is really quite insistent.’

I hear a deep male voice in the background, in full rant.

‘I don’t care how busy she is. I don’t care if she’s the bloody Queen of Sheba. I want to see her and see her now. And I’ll tell you this much, you can either get her to come out here and talk to me, or I’ll force my own way through – and there’s not a one of you will stop me.’

‘Mr Doherty, if you just give me a moment, I’m speaking to her right now to see if she’s available,’ I hear Lisa say.

‘If she’s speaking to you on the other end of that phone then she’s available. No ifs and buts about it.’

He is becoming irate. His voice is louder and can now be heard through the heavy fire doors that separate us from the reception office.

Tommy and Jim lift their heads, look towards the door and then at me.

‘Can you tell Mr Doherty I’ll be out in a minute,’ I say to Lisa, but there’s a shake in my voice.

I’ve no idea why he’s here, but more than that, I’ve no idea why he is so angry. Sure, he didn’t seem to be falling over himself with joy at my presence in his house, but he didn’t seem to be against the idea, either. He’d been content enough to let Bernie do the talking. I feel the headache kick in just a little more and fumble in my desk drawer for two paracetamol tablets, which I down with a slug of the cold coffee, grimacing as I do so.

‘Everything okay?’ Trina asks, glancing between me and the door. ‘Maybe you should get one of the lads to go out with you.’