“And then I’m supposed to fly back here?”

He laughed. “That’s up to you.”

It was an easy laugh, and I pictured an older gentleman with a belly and bald head. Was I supposed to fly back – what a foolish question. I gave him my email address and hung up. Then I stood at the window and looked at the harbour, the Opera House with its billowing concrete sails, the blue bay with ships large and small and, at the end of the bay, the green strip of land, behind which lay the open sea. The sun was shining. I could skip breakfast, eat lunch early at the restaurant in the Botanic Garden, and then lie down in the grass again. I could buy a backpack at the leather and luggage place I had passed near the hotel, a book from the bookstore, a bottle of red from the wine shop, and read, and drink, and fall asleep, and wake up.

I thought about the flight I was supposed to take that afternoon, about arriving the next morning, the drive home, unlocking the door, unpacking, showering, going through the post in my dressing gown, shaving and dressing, driving to the office, and being welcomed back. I thought of the words I’d exchange with the driver: he would ask me if I had had a pleasant journey; I would ask him whether anything had happened in Frankfurt. I thought of the flowers my secretary would place on my desk.

I thought about the ritual of homecoming, and it made me sad. I had adhered to it all these years, and the years themselves had become a ritual faithfully adhered to, case by case, client by client, contract by contract. Mergers and acquisitions – that was what I was good at, what clients came to me for, and what the contracts were about. Over the years I had learned the points to be considered, the questions to be asked. I always considered the same points, always asked the same questions. There were only problems when the other side tried some ruse. But I, too, had my ruses.

I called the head of my travel agency in Frankfurt. It was far too late to reach him at the office, but I reached him at home. He said he could rebook my flight, but only to a specific date. When would I want to fly? I didn’t know yet? Then he would simply move it by two weeks, and he could move it forwards or backwards, at any time. He wished me a pleasant stay.