Gareth shifts his weight in the hard-backed plastic chair, putting his hands on the arms so he sits up taller. He looks across at the clock on the wall and taps the soles of his leather shoes on the floor: left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Mark Whiting looks up from his computer screen.
‘Do you mind?’
‘Sorry.’ Gareth presses his feet into the floor. It’s 1.42 p.m. The meeting was scheduled for 1.30 p.m. and Liam Dunford is twelve minutes late. Maybe he’s ill, Gareth thinks. Really ill. So ill he couldn’t ring in that morning to explain why he wasn’t coming to work. Maybe, an evil little voice whispers in the back of his head, maybe he’s dead.
‘Well.’ His boss stops his one-fingered typing and sits back in his chair. ‘It’s not looking hopeful, is it?’
For one terrifying moment Gareth thinks he’s talking about his job prospects but then Mark adds, ‘I think he’s a no-show, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ Gareth moves to stand up then slumps back as his boss waggles his hand, indicating that he should stay where he is.
‘So are you going to tell me what this is about? This urgent meeting that you requested?’
Gareth rubs his palms together. ‘Liam’s not said anything to you?’
Mark sits forward, elbows on the desk and his chin on his hands and fixes Gareth with an enquiring look. He’s a good ten years younger, all designer suits, shiny shoes, gelled hair, tanned skin and eyebrows that are suspiciously tamed. ‘Liam’s not said anything. I sent him a text yesterday, reminding him about the meeting. He replied saying he’d be here but I haven’t heard anything since.’
Interesting that Liam didn’t get in first with his version of events. Gareth had assumed he would.
‘You did ring him when he didn’t show up this morning, didn’t you?’ Mark adds.
‘Of course I did but there was no answer on his mobile or his landline. I assumed he’d been out drinking and slept through his alarm again …’ He pauses, letting that little nugget of information sink in. ‘I rang him again an hour later and there was still no answer.’
‘And you’re not going to tell me what all this is about?’
‘I um … no. I’d rather wait until we’re both in the same room, if that’s all right with you?’
Mark nods his head wearily. ‘Look, whatever this is about I’m not going to pursue it unless Liam can be bothered to turn up. Give me a ring or send me an email when he’s back in work. And when he does come in, tell him he’s got a verbal warning for not ringing in.’
Gareth coughs into his hand to hide his smile. ‘Yes, boss, of course.’