Maria had looked at Gareth’s performance indicators and understood that he was one of their most productive workers. It was clear he knew that too. But she wasn’t prepared to let him trade on it, to take his quarterly bonus as a given. If she didn’t turn the screws a little to show him who was boss, he could easily become a thorn in her flesh, stirring up unease at the way she was going about things. So she’d smiled sweetly and said, ‘I always think the more the merrier when it comes to thrashing out new ideas. We’ll be having short group meetings every fortnight from now on. Gareth, I’d like you to write a proposal for the next meeting that outlines your ideas and the reasoning behind them. I’m sure we can find better ways to achieve our goals, and nobody understands that better than you. I’m counting on all of you to come up with constructive suggestions. Gareth, I’m delighted you’re going to lead the way on this one.’

He’d scowled at her, clearly baffled at being outflanked. But he’d said no more. And he hadn’t had the chance to foment dissent round the water cooler because, like Rob and half a dozen others, he was using his accumulated time owing to take the afternoon off. Bradfield Victoria were due to play Newcastle United in the FA Cup, and their loyal fans were leaving work early to travel up to the North East for the game.

When lunchtime rolled around, Marie followed the football fans out. She wanted half an hour outside the office, looking at faces that weren’t her responsibility, stimulating her mind with images of beauty rather than office cubicles. The city art gallery was a brisk three-minute walk from the office, and she particularly liked their collection of Scottish Colourists on the second floor. Twenty minutes of staring at the paintings of J. D. Fergusson and William McTaggart and she would be refreshed and renewed, ready to face the next bunch of employees who needed to be energised and inspired.