The Pegasus Building was well known to Pearly, and he had no need to pause for appraisal. Most of his work involved residential properties or farms. He handled a good many farms, partly because of his own rural background and the family name. Commercial buildings were a smaller part of his business, but he was keen to achieve growth. From the outset, he’d thought the Pegasus clients had set too high a price, but his advice had been ignored, and now he needed to persuade the McMillans to be more realistic without seeming to crow over the vindication of his assessment. The place had been on the market for six months, despite being fully tenanted. On the other hand, there were obvious signs that maintenance was required. The McMillan brothers had inherited the building from a father whose entrepreneurial ability wasn’t evident in either of them. They ran a small-scale printing business, but derived most of their income from the leases applying to the rest of the building.

Pearly went inside and joined John McMillan, who stood listlessly by a large copier that was churning out headed paper for an accountancy firm. ‘How are you, John?’ said Pearly, and John nodded his speckled, bald head, but hardly looked up from watching the sheets tongue out quickly and drop precisely to the pile. The absent brother was much the same in appearance and manner, and so Pearly didn’t miss his presence. He was called Eli, however, and that gave him just a whiff of individuality. What parents of the name of McMillan would call one son John and the other Eli? ‘Eli not here then?’ said Pearly.

‘Dentist.’

‘Ah,’ said Pearly.

‘Pain in the chair and bigger pain in the pocket afterwards.’

‘You’re right there,’ said Pearly.

‘And so in total a right pain in the arse.’

There was something almost hypnotic about the precise operation of the copier, and Pearly found himself standing without further conversation, watching the mechanical movements, listening to the succession of sounds that accompanied them. The repetitious noise transformed into a litany that sounded like ‘parking meters’ over and over again. The more Pearly listened, the clearer it was. He had to will himself to get to the reason for his visit. ‘You mentioned on the phone,’ he said loudly, ‘that it might be opportune to reconsider the asking price. That would be a wise move on your part, I think.’ Better to pretend it was McMillan’s idea.

‘Parking meters, parking meters, parking meters.’

‘I can’t understand why there hasn’t been more interest,’ said John.

‘Parking meters, parking meters, parking meters.’

‘We’ve been pushing it, but large commercial premises in a provincial town are always a serious ask. Look, why don’t we just reduce the amount above which offers will be accepted? That way nothing’s ruled out.’

‘Parking meters, parking meters.’

‘Eli thought sole agency might be the handicap, and we should throw it open.’