I suppose it had never crossed my mind that people might sit in a pub on a workday – don’t they have places to go? Money to earn? But the pub was busy. Not like on a Thursday or a Friday night when the after-work crowd was four deep at the bar, and punters took over the pavements outside, but tables were occupied, the quiz machine was in use, the barman rushed from customer to customer. I had thought it was only tragic, unemployed alcoholics who found themselves downing their third drink of the day by 3 p.m., but this afternoon I was well on the way to becoming one of their number. Richard had called us in the moment we returned from Singapore. We thought, naturally, that it was for the usual wash-up session: going over what had worked and what hadn’t, discussing what we could improve for the next time, making sure all the figures added up. He should have been out in Singapore to oversee everything, but at the last minute he’d had to stay in London. Even without him, the event had been a triumph – everyone said so – and through the jetlag and exhaustion we were proud of the job we’d done.
