“I’m... I thought you would have phoned me today,” he says.

“I am going to phone you,” I say. “I mean, I was going to phone you. Just...later on, you know?”

“It’s already ten o’clock,” he says.

“Really?” How has it gotten so late?

“I suppose time must fly when you’re having fun,” Brendan says. His voice is small. Faraway. I feel terrible, I really do.

“Sorry, Brendan, I honestly didn’t realize it was that late. Is that ten o’clock in Ireland or—”

“Yes. Of course in Ireland,” he shouts. Then he says, “Sorry, it’s been a rotten day.”

“Oh no, what happened?” My first thought is that if something happened to the girls it will be my fault for not being there and for having such a great time tonight.

“Well, first of all, Kurt Glass postponed our meeting this morning from eight o’clock to ten o’clock. With barely any notice.”

I can’t believe I’d forgotten all about the meeting.

“As if my time is worthless. As if I don’t have enough to be—”

“So you had the meeting at ten?” I say, sitting on the edge of a claw-foot porcelain bathtub.

“What? Yes! Ten! And it was over by five past.”

He folds his arms across his chest, his mouth set in a thin, straight line.

“Terry?” he says, leaning towards the screen. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, yes, go on. I’m listening.”

“Well, apparently five minutes is all you need to tell a senior manager with nearly thirty years of experience and company loyalty that his nearly thirty years of experience and loyalty may be superfluous to requirements.” He glares at me, but I know it’s not me he’s angry with. I almost lift my fingers to the screen to touch his face. Soothe him.

“Oh, Brendan,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, well, that bit took about three and a half minutes. The remaining minute and a half was earmarked for informing me of the upcoming interview they have kindly arranged for me, to demonstrate to them how my nearly thirty years of experience and company loyalty can be of value in the new narrative of the company. It’s not a bloody novel. That’s what I should have said to him.”

My bum is going numb against the cold, thin ledge of the bath. I shift a little. “So, what does that mean exactly. You have to...interview for your own job?”

“Yes! I just told you! Have you been listening to me at all?”

“Yes, of course I have. Sorry, you just...caught me unawares.”

I smile an apologetic smile at the screen. Brendan’s eyes are sweeping around the screen, settling in the bottom left-hand corner.

“Is that a...bidet?” he says.

“Pardon?”

“There. On your right. No, your right. Yes. There. Is it?”

“Oh. Yes. It is,” I say slowly. “So look, we should...”

“Are you in a bathroom?”

“Actually, I am.”

“Why on earth did you answer the phone?”

“I thought it might be important.”

“It is important.”