She gathers up her notepad and pen, as if trying to convince the both of them that Malc might need archive material for a big story. Alec glances at the stationery in her hand but says nothing.

Inside the office Alec closes the door. Malc is behind his desk, elbows spread wide behind his head. He doesn’t ask either of them to sit.

‘Chloe,’ he begins, ‘this isn’t the first time you’ve been in this office, is it?’

She shakes her head.

‘Sorry?’

He has pockmarks on his cheeks.

‘No.’

‘No,’ he repeats, ‘and I think the last time you were in here, we talked about the same things: time-keeping, unauthorized absences from the office, general tardiness in your performance . . .’ He checks each felony off on fat fingers. ‘Am I right?’

She nods.

‘Sorry?’

‘Yes.’

He knits those same fingers together and leans forward on his desk. ‘So my question to you is, what are we to do about this?’

There is silence in the room. Chloe looks at Alec, who straightens up as Malc starts to speak again.

‘Alec tells me you were absent during office hours three times last week, then this week—’

‘I . . . I know it looks bad—’ she starts and instantly regrets interrupting him because when he speaks again, his voice is so loud it startles the sound of her own blood from her ears.

‘—and today’s Wednesday, and you’ve only just decided to “pop back in”?’

He leans back abruptly on his office chair, bobbing back and forth a little. There is enough silence then for her to decide to fill it. She’s good at talking herself out of situations, she knows what people want to hear.

‘It’s just my nan,’ she says.

Both men roll their eyes a little.

‘She’s got dementia and I’ve been trying to care for her . . . she gets confused, you see . . . and she went missing . . . and the police, well, they found her in London . . . and I had to go and get her . . . now she’s in a home and—’

Alec interrupts this time. ‘Chloe, we’ve been as patient as we can be. How many times have we heard—’

‘Yes, I know, Alec, and I’m grateful, I really am, but now she’s in a home and I won’t have to—’

‘Until the next time,’ Alec mutters.

Chloe wraps one arm around her middle and bites her fingernail.

‘It’s a written warning this time, Chloe,’ Malc says, and then as if to underline the point, ‘Your last warning.’

She swallows the rest of her sentence, and nods quickly before he changes his mind. Just another warning. She can deal with that.

Alec thanks Malc and they leave the office, shuffling awkwardly in their haste to get back to the safety of the archive.