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of these figures before my appointment at the bank.”
    Isobel tried to return her accountant’s smile.
    “Look, Mrs Cooper, is this really necessary? I’ve given you all of the paperwork and I’m really busy this morning.”
    “Yes. I’m afraid it is. You can’t put this off any longer, Isobel. We need to talk about your financial situation. Frankly, these figures don’t present the business particularly well. I need to know your reasoning around some of your financial decisions, so I can try to negotiate your position with the bank.”
    “Great.”
    Isobel unlocked her office door and offered Jan Cooper the only chair other than her own.
    Old cow.
    She blamed her accountants for the demise of her company’s finances; sacking her previous advisor in favour of her latest financial hope. She needed good advice; guidance that never seemed to eventuate. A condescending shake of her head remained Mrs Coopers only contribution.
    Isobel attempted to ease past her visitor towards her side of the desk. She felt dazed and unfocused and she didn’t notice the obstacle. At the last moment, she tried to stop her momentum by turning her body, but couldn’t avoid crashing into an open filing cabinet drawer.
    “Ow, that hurt.”
    She tried to back up and rebalance, but her wet shoes gained no traction and she went down.
    “Oh God, Isobel, are you all right?”
    Isobel hung off the cabinet drawer; her watchband caught on its edge. It held and her arm stretched down to a body sprawled across the floor.
    “Help me up will you, I’m stuck.”
    Isobel tried to laugh, but her composure gave way to anger.
    “Bloody hell. This isn’t a particularly good omen is it?”
    She fell into her chair and attempted to rub the pain from her wrist. She knew what Mrs Cooper intended to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. She preferred denial rather than suffering the guilt associated with her inadequacies.
    “Isobel, I know how much this place means to you, but you just can’t afford the past anymore. Your present contracts got tendered at ridiculous prices and now there’s not enough equity, or possible future income to stop the inevitable.”
    “The inevitable. That’s blunt.”
    Isobel noticed her hands shaking. She pushed them further under her desk.
    “Surely, it’s not that bad. There has to be something you can do?”
    “I’ll try, but based on these figures, I don’t think any bank is going to offer you another overdraft. I’m sorry.”
    Isobel continued massaging her swollen wrist. She couldn’t give up without a fight, but the how to proceed eluded her. Her position seemed hopeless. Poor management skills hindered any real opportunities for success. She excelled at science and mathematics, but as an administrator … she knew her failings.
    Isobel sighed with relief when her accountant finally left. Alone, she could think. She belonged here and she couldn’t see herself anywhere else. Eviction removed her only remaining connection with her late parents, especially her father.
    She lifted her wrist to catch the light and her arm began to throb. She could see a red welt, but the skin didn’t appear to be broken.
    “Stupid ugly thing.”
    She tried to smile. Her father presented her with the broken timepiece not long before he died. Looking at it usually made her laugh.
    Bloody worthless rubbish.
    The watch; a Seiko, belonged to her father’s business partner. Her father asked her to wear it until his partner’s son arrived to pick it up. If nothing else, she remained faithful to that promise. She wore the awful thing every day and wondered about its owner. It embarrassed her sometimes. She spent so much time imagining him that he became a fully-developed fantasy in her mind.
    She needed decent project funding, not an imaginary man. She felt silly believing he might come.
    She sat back in her chair, sucked in some air and sighed.
    “Ah, Mr Fox, my imaginary knight in shining armour.”
    She frowned at her depressing