6:17

Gareth strode into the lawyer’s office with a lot more confidence than he was actually feeling. It had been a long wait, but it looked like today was actually the day. It had the feeling of ‘rightness’. He’d get this over with, collect his stuff and meet up with Rowan later.

There wasn’t much to go wrong unless somehow his dad managed to fuck it up. He didn’t think at this point he’d do it deliberately, but communication between the two of them had never been their strong suit. For all anyone knew the two of them were sitting on opposite ends of town: he’d looked it up, and there wed at least six different Jones & Jones Barristers and Solicitors locations in town. Originality apparently wasn’t lawyers’ strong suit.

The receptionist glanced up as he paused to check out the foyer. Nope, no dad. Actually, no one at all; the room had an empty, unused feel to it. There were no months-old magazines, and the carpet wasn’t worn, even though the furniture looked like it had been retrieved from the set of Mad Men. In fact, the place looked like it hadn’t seen any action since the ’60s.

Gareth looked up at the receptionist and tried a greeting. “Uh. Hi. I’ve got an appointment with Mr Jones. Not sure which one, though; I’m meeting my … I’m meeting someone else. He made the appointment.”

“Very good. If you would have a seat until your companion arrives, I will let Mssrs Jones know that you are here.” The receptionist stood up and left the room through a small, dark wooden door in the wall behind her. As she walked away Gareth noticed she wasn’t actually that much older than he was, but she sure as hell gave the impression of a stern old school marm.

I wonder how she pulls that off? Makeup, maybe? And where the hell is Dad? This place is giving me the willies.