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to my left, and stood slightly hunched, like a cracked but not quite broken Humpty-Dumpty.
    ‘I cannot believe you did that,’ he said.
    ‘God, I know. Sorry mate.’
    ‘I mean, Jesus . You puked on me.’ Terry’s blue eyes looked hurt and confused. ‘Why did you puke on me, Jim?’
    ‘I didn’t mean it,’ I said, with more petulance than Terry deserved.
    ‘Do you have a disease?’
    ‘No,’ I admitted.
    ‘Food poisoning?’ I looked at Terry. He knew as well as anyone that you had to actually eat to get food poisoning. ‘Okay, sorry. Hangover?’
    ‘No worse than usual.’
    ‘What, then?’
    ‘Let’s get a pint after work. I think I need a chat.’
    This seemed to satisfy Terry, and he turned and shuffled back to his desk. As I watched him retreat, I felt something odd happening inside. An unfamiliar feeling tickled my brain and itched at my soul; it niggled my conscience and bothered my equilibrium; it made me feel queasy again until I finally identified, just before five, what it was - I had, apparently, made a decision.
    There’s a first time for everything.
    ***
    We went back to The Fixx . I liked it mainly because it was in a basement, which reminded me of The Basement. The Fixx also held the dual attractions of being less than a hundred yards from our office, and one of the few pubs in Glasgow that refused to play any music involving a drum machine. When we arrived it was quiet enough not to seem busy and busy enough not to seem quiet.
    ‘My shout,’ I made a point of declaring as Terry and I approached the bar.
    I took a step away from Terry as we waited for our drinks. He was stinking of puke after all.
    We found a table in the corner.
    ‘So?’ Terry said once we were comfortable.
    I took a breath. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that you’ve wasted your chances? That you do a cruel job you don’t enjoy and isn’t likely to lead to anything except the opportunity to be even more cruel on a grander scale?’
    Terry paused mid-slurp and returned his glass to the table. ‘Fuck’s sake, Jim. You work for the same pricks, why pick on me?’
    ‘Jesus, I’m talking about me!’
    ‘Oh. Oh well, no then.’ Terry was a good mate, but he had his limitations. ‘What’s brought this on?’ he asked cheerfully.
    ‘This.’ I took Paula’s dad’s letter from my pocket and passed it over. Terry looked more puzzled than usual as he read.
    ‘And? We get a hundred of these a day.’
    ‘I sort of know him.’
    ‘So? It’s a fucked-up bill, it’ll get sorted eventually. What’s the problem?’
    ‘The problem is I spend my days lying like fuck to people like him, making their lives that bit harder than they should be.’
    ‘You’ve been doing that for two years, why the crisis?’
    ‘Because I know him, I don’t want to lie to him. And that means I don’t want to lie to anyone anymore.’
    ‘Are you sure you’re not ill?’
    ‘Have you ever had an epiphany?’
    ‘Jim, I hate to break this to you but we don’t actually live in The Bible.’
    ‘Aye, ha ha . You know what I mean.’
    ‘So you’ve suddenly realised you hate your job, big wow. Most people figure that out long before they hit thirty-three. You’re just a late developer; it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
    I slumped back into my seat. Terry was right, of course.
    ‘Who is this Simon Fraser anyway?’
    ‘I used to know his daughter.’
    ‘Ah, now I find myself interested. Do go on.’
    ‘She was ... I used to go out with her. She was a nice girl; her dad was a good guy, that’s all.’
    Terry leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, cupping his chin on his hands. ‘Going to need a few more details I’m afraid.’
    ‘Piss off, it was years ago.’
    ‘I’m afraid that is less than satisfactory as an answer, James.’
    ‘I’m afraid that’s all you’re getting, Terence.’
    ‘I’m going to need a number, James.’
    In a futile attempt at not being a complete wanker, I had adopted a tactic learned