‘Have you got a minute, Jim?’ she asked. Jim Ryan, a burly man in his late thirties, was sitting behind his desk organising the bulletins and “carts” for the major news and local current affairs programme on the hour. ‘Two minutes for you, Fizz, my darling,’ he said, easily, without looking up from his task. ‘What can I do for you?’ ‘Tell me everything you’ve heard about the takeover at Harries Industries. Everything you’ve heard about Luke Devlin.’ ‘The long version or the potted one?’ ‘Which would you advise?’ ‘Since nobody knows much, they’re about the same,’ he said, throwing her a grin. ‘Apparently we’re lucky the whole lot didn’t just go down the pan and that if anyone can dig Harries out of the red, Devlin can. The workers, at least those who have met him, are impressed, although naturally there have been rumblings of discontent. Everyone expects there to be some job losses.’ ‘When are you going to do a feature on him, his plans, what it means for the town, that sort of thing?
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