‘You certainly do,’ agreed Ben.

A ping went off on Dennis’s desk and he looked up and told them that they could go in now. George led the way, opening the door without knocking and offering a hearty ‘Good morning, Margaret!’ to the fifty-something woman seated behind the desk by the window, who looked up and smiled wearily before ushering them into seats.

‘George,’ she said, nodding at them both. ‘Bob.’

‘Ben,’ said Ben.

‘I thought your name was Bob?’

‘No,’ said Ben. ‘It’s Ben.’

Margaret frowned, her eyes narrowing a little.

‘I’m not trying to be difficult,’ he said, his voice growing quieter by the syllable. ‘It really is.’

‘If you say so,’ she replied. ‘So, we seem to have got ourselves into a little bit of a mess, don’t we?’

‘We?’ asked George, raising an eyebrow. ‘Why, what have you done? Or are you using the royal “we”?’

‘All right, let’s be clear,’ said Margaret. ‘You have got yourself into a little bit of a mess. I am perfectly innocent in this matter and my hands are clean.’

‘As are Bob’s,’ said George. ‘So there’s really no need for him to be here. He has nothing to do with any of this.’

‘Ben,’ said Margaret.

‘Sorry, yes, Ben.’

‘Shall I go, then?’ asked Ben, rising from his seat, but Margaret shook her head and pointed her index finger at the chair.

‘Stay where you are,’ she said. ‘You’re the producer. Ultimately, all of this falls under your purview.’

‘Does it, though?’ asked George, sceptically.

‘I’m extremely sorry,’ said Ben, sitting up straight now and clearing his throat. ‘It was never my intention to offend and I apologize unreservedly to anyone whose feelings have been hurt by my tweet. My words were intended as a show of support for all my transgender brothers and sisters, but I realize now how damaging and hurtful they were. Please understand that I am still learning and that I will work hard to do better from now on. I want to hashtag be kind. I beg your forgiveness. To make amends, I have made a donation to—’

‘What on earth are you blathering on about?’ asked George, turning to look at him. ‘You haven’t posted something too, have you?’

‘No, this is the kind of statement that I think you should put out,’ said Ben. ‘An apology.’

‘An apology for what?’

‘An apology for the offence you’ve caused,’ said Margaret.

George rolled his eyes and looked out the window in the direction of the Langham hotel, where he wished he was now, drinking a large glass of red wine and enjoying a lobster roll.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘This whole thing has been blown out of all proportion. I’ve known the chap in question for some years. Always got along fine with him. The fact is, I was wishing him well on his journey. How that has been interpreted as some form of hate speech is completely beyond me.’