The Interview

I sit in the corridor outside the office, as Jenny has instructed, and wait for Mr Marsden to emerge and beckon me in.

I have been here for eight and a half minutes. He knows where I am, for sure - I heard him on the intercom when Jenny buzzed through to tell him I had arrived. He must be very busy. I am happy to wait.

The corridor's walls are made up entirely of the windows of the offices which flank it. Some are not occupied and the blinds have been closed on those which are. I cannot see into Mr Marsden's office. I can hear him chattering away on the phone, but I still have to imagine what he looks like.

There is another voice now coming through the window. Mr Marsden wasn't on the phone at all. There must be a second person in the office, the person before me, the competition. There is a laugh. I presume it is Mr Marsden. He's cracking him up. The bastard's cracking him up. I bet he gets it.

Then suddenly silence. Genuine silence - not a single sound. A few seconds pass...but then it is broken by an enormous thump and a grunt. I can hear Mr Marsden again, but the other voice has stopped.

I look up at the clock. Eleven minutes have passed now. There must be some mistake. He is busy - I should go and check with Jenny. I stand up and start to walk along the corridor back to the reception.

But I am stopped by a voice behind me.

"Fred Gordon?"

I turn around. Mr Marsden is a very tall and very wide man with very little hair.

"Yes."

"Please, come in. Sorry to keep you waiting."

I smile and walk back along the corridor and into the office. There is no-one else in the room. It is just Mr Marsden and me.

"Sit down, please."

I sit down at the desk. Mr Marsden walks around me to his chair. He sits and rests his hands on the table. I see that his left little finger is askew, dislocated, sticking out at the side of his hand.

He sees that I have seen it. He sees that I have seen that he has seen that I have seen it. He smiles and my shoulders stiffen.