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down into my eyes.
    ‘You don’t have to go in, you know?’
    Harry’s touch is strangely comforting, and I feel my legs steady. ‘Yes… I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
What choice do I have? I have nowhere else to go.
    ‘Good.’ Harry smiles at me, and then, as if he’s only just realised where his hands are, he whips them away from my body and stuffs them back in to his pockets, his cheeks flushing a little. ‘Right, no time like the present then, let’s get you back to work.’
    As we enter the building together I notice a plaque on the wall outside that reads
EMI House
, and I find myself in a large reception area filled with a magnificent desk, and behind that an impressive swivel chair. Opposite this are two red velvet chaise longues, and an enormous aspidistra plant in a wonderful brass pot. As I try to follow Harry on through the reception area and through some more glass doors, he turns around.
    ‘Where are you going? Hadn’t you better stay here and see what you’ve missed while you’ve been away? I’ll let them know upstairs what’s happened in case there’s any trouble about you being away from your desk for so long – we’re both late back from our lunch hours. But I’m sure a slight misdemeanour with an Austin-Healey will count as as good an excuse as any to take a long lunch break.’
    ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’ I swivel round to look at the large desk. So, I must be the receptionist here. ‘And thank you,’ I say, turning back to look at Harry. ‘For bringing me back and… everything, today.’
    ‘No problem,’ Harry says. ‘I’ll pop down later if I can get away and check on you.’ He pauses for a moment as if he’s considering something. ‘A gang of us were thinking of going out tonight, to catch a few bands at a local club, if you think you might feel up to it?’
    ‘Er…’ Oh dear, what am I supposed to say? I don’t know my relationship status in the sixties. I glance down at my left hand; I don’t see any rings, so assume all is well.
    ‘You can bring that kooky flatmate of yours if you like?’ Harry suggests, as if this might swing it.
    I have a flatmate?
‘Yes, OK then, that sounds… groovy,’ I say, hoping this might be the right lingo to use.
    Harry winces at my terminology, but he looks pleased. ‘Yeah, I’m sure it will be that, and hopefully much more. So I’ll catch you after work to arrange details? Better be getting back myself. See you later.’
    ‘Yes.’ I give a casual wave, then hastily drop my hand again as he hurries off. ‘You do that.’
What the hell was groovy all about, Jo-Jo?
I ask myself as I cringe at my choice of word. But I haven’t got time to worry about that because people are beginning to find their way into the reception area, and my phone is already ringing on the desk.
    Luckily the people who stop by reception in the next few minutes all have appointments, so I ask them to wait on the chaise longues while I try and figure out how I contact the office of the person they’re waiting to see. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see a list of names on a clipboard followed by office extension numbers. Now, how do I work the phone? Oh God, where is the phone?
    I stare around me but I can’t see anything that will put me in touch with any of the many offices that I’m sure must be in this huge building. I begin to move papers and files around on the desk frantically in the hope that it will magically reveal itself to me.
    ‘Maybe you should use the headset?’ one of my ‘appointments’ suggests helpfully. It’s the well-spoken man in the suit – a Mr Epstein, who came in asking for a Mr Maxwell. ‘First day, is it?’ he asks, smiling.
    I nod gratefully, and look around for a headset.
    ‘We all have to start somewhere.’ He gets up and comes over to the desk while I grope about looking under more papers and books for a pair of headphones now. Jeez, they could be anywhere, I think, looking for something akin to the white set I