Chegwin retreated to his office for some quick brainstorming. He had to fix this mess. If only he had listened more closely to Pepper. If only he had stayed focused. If only he had accidentally ordered sixty thousand litres of raspberry yoghurt instead.

He pulled a notepad from his drawer and turned to the first blank page. He had to amend his dairy disaster and think of a way to earn some money back for the hotel. His staff were relying on him. Otherwise, in only four weeks’ time, it would be the end of Toffle Towers. He could hear the bulldozers now … Or perhaps that was the Dallas Dairy delivery truck driving away.

Chegwin took a deep breath, then let his mind do what it did best: daydream. He jotted down notes as his mind flitted from one idea to the next.