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until he walked right into her as she came out of a shop.
    ‘Argh!’
    Lynne dropped several packages on the ground whilst Arthur started a long litany of apologies.
    ‘God, I’m so sorry … Let me help you with … Wasn’t looking …’
    Scrabbling around on the pavement, he couldn’t help noticing that some of the packages were quite peculiarly shaped. Looking up, he realized Lynne had been coming out of the pet shop. A fat man, obviously the shopkeeper, came out behind her.
    ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry. We just can’t get crocodiles, okay? They’re illegal.’
    ‘ Illegal ? How on earth does anyone make soup?’
    Lynne raised an eyebrow at Arthur as the man retreated inside. ‘Hello, Arthur. Well met.’
    Arthur swallowed. ‘Em, hello there.’
    ‘Are you going this way? Let’s walk a while.’ It sounded more like a command than a query.
    ‘Why …’ Arthur stumbled for something to say. He didn’t really know any therapists and was slightly worried about being misinterpreted in some way that would mean he was a terrible person. ‘Why do you want a crocodile?’
    ‘Who wouldn’t want a crocodile?’
    Arthur shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
    ‘What’s the matter?’
    Arthur looked at her kind face. Today, her hair, decorated with pendants that looked like leaves, was loosely pinned back in a bun with tendrils escaping.
    ‘Well …’ He explained about his conversation with Gwyneth. She was meant to be his counsellor, after all.
    ‘Hum.’ Lynne stared straight ahead. ‘That was quick.’
    ‘What? You knew they were going to do this?’
    ‘No, of course not. Not as such,’ said Lynne, twisting up her face. ‘Office grapevine, you know.’
    Arthur nodded.
    ‘So. How are you going to begin?’
    Arthur shrugged. ‘I was actually just considering … that I might not.’
    ‘Might not? Don’t be ridiculous.’
    ‘What’s ridiculous? Do I have the look of the man who’s going to spend the rest of his life stuck in an office?’
    ‘Around the mouth … and the nose, yes.’
    Arthur grimaced and walked on. Lynne caught up with him.
    ‘I think it is time, don’t you?’
    ‘What?’ He turned round. ‘It’s not my time.’
    ‘It is,’ said Lynne urgently. She looked at him, and he felt something odd pass between them. He shook his head.
    ‘Sorry – I don’t quite know what I meant by that. I mean – well, what do you mean? Time for what?’
    ‘Time for you to take all this energy and …’ Lynne cast her hand around the desolate parking garage where they found themselves. It was puddled with oil and cigarette ends. ‘Ssh,’ she said.
    Arthur followed her gaze. In the far corner, three white faces were huddled round a brazier, staring at them like ghosts out of the darkness. Not an unfamiliar sight in the back roads of the town. Arthur and Lynne quickly hurried on through the car park.
    ‘Who’s going to change all this if you don’t?’
    ‘What, now you want me to tackle the drugs problem?’
    ‘Environment matters, you know that. Pride, Arthur. It’s time to pick up your sword and go for it.’
    ‘Pick up my what?’
    ‘It’s just an expression.’
    ‘Oh. Only I seem to have been hearing about swords rather a lot recently.’
    ‘Yes, well unfortunately I’m not a Freudian type of analyst, so I can’t help you with that one.’
    ‘What sort of analyst are you?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know. Let’s just see how it goes along, eh?’
    ‘You are a real therapist, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes,’ she patted him on the arm. ‘Yes, I am. Now, what have they asked you to do? Fire someone?’
    Arthur gave her a sharp look. ‘Do you do everyone’s therapy or just mine?’
    ‘I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Well, then. Obviously you already know. Yes, they have.’
    ‘Then do it quickly. Show who’s in charge. Don’t mess around. If you’re going to run this thing, Arthur, you’re going to need respect.’
    ‘I know. But even though I hate the guy, I