The walk over uneven ground makes his ankle throb and a tiny insect swims in his eye. The site supervisor shouts something that sounds like “I was born on a bus”, and Hook dutifully writes it down; he’ll worry about the quote later. When he sends the feature to the management committee of the mosque it’ll be amended to requirements. That’ll keep the councillors happy, and that means Karen’s happy, which seems more important after yesterday’s snap reaction.
Hook’s throat is dry from dust and hangovers, and despite a rash promise he vaguely remembers making to Monica he longs to be in a pub – any pub. Flashbacks from the day before keep popping up: running through Soho; that woman’s disgusted face; giving Jack the finger instead of shaking his hand.
When he shakes hands with the Bengali the guy seems put out, which hits a nerve: it’s Hook who had to wait on site for half an hour because the prick lost his pass. Hook walks towards the lift to the underground car park and exit, waving his arms ineffectually – neither waving nor drowning.
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