Unholy Orders

By Roger Bishop

Based upon a true story and actual events. Unholy Orders reveals to the reader a few of the lesser known activities of the Church of England and how one man exploited these weakness's for his own gain. if you have ever wondered what becomes of defrocked vicars, or what happens to the money and property donated to the Church by repenting sinners to try and buy their way into eternal salvation, then the answers are all here.

From a wet and miserable building site in Kent, to the corridors of Lambeth Palace itself. You follow the adventures of the books anti-hero as he strives to secure a better future for his wife and family. This culminates in a truly amazing conclusion that is now accepted as fact and not fiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avalon Press
• Release date: Mar 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507045435

Roger Bishop

Roger Bishop although born in the Kent countryside in the UK currently lives in Ireland where he has resided for 15 years.

Book preview

UNHOLY ORDERS

ROGER BISHOP

Preface

The following novel was inspired by actual events and real people. Whilst it remains a work of fiction, the characters are based upon real people and events that actually occurred. The dates and some names have been changed where necessary, in order to protect the innocent as well as the guilty. I leave it up to the reader to decide where artistic licence has been deployed, if indeed it has at all. Feel free to make up your own mind on the matter.

Prologue

5

It was March 30th 1982 and Maggie Thatcher was in trouble, but then so was Richard Walker. Maggie’s government had just messed up the economy and Richard Walker had just become unemployed. He had once again been made redundant, something he was thoroughly familiar with in the construction industry, which acted as a barometer for the booms and busts of the economy then, just as much as it does today. Richard was only recently married, to a girl sixteen years younger than his thirty six years.

The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders as he sat at the bar of his local pub, wondering how he was going to break the news to her – once he had finished his drink and finally made it home.

Richard had been a carpenter, self-taught, no apprenticeship or formal training. He had left school at fifteen with no academic qualifications and after a succession of menial jobs, with no real sense of what direction he wanted to take in life, he had happened by chance upon Pat Lyons.

Pat was an anglicised Irishman who ran a small building company, a typical one man band that made his living from small domestic jobs. Pat had taken Richard under his wing, and taught him how to be a jack of all trades in the construction industry. Which would serve him well in the direction fate would eventually lead him.

1

RICHARD’S EPIPHANY

Meanwhile, Richards’s most pressing concern was how to find another job. After all, there was a mortgage to pay and other living expenses, and how was he was going to tell the story of his sacking to his young wife Tracy? Beautiful Tracy, the daughter of a local farmer, they had been married less than two years. She was his second wife. The first Mrs Walker had been an Italian dancer that he had met and married at twenty on one of his wanderings abroad between jobs. He always had a fascination with foreign travel, so he had taken several backpacking trips around Europe as a teenager, with little more than a few pounds in his pocket and a backpack full of hopes and aspirations.

On one such trip he met Yolanda, exotic Yolanda, with whom he returned to England, and finally married. Unfortunately, Yolanda hated living in England and they returned to Sicily together, a move that was not to prove the instant cure to what ailed their marriage. The union bore him two sons, Angelo and Mark, but still failed. Eventually, he and Yolanda were divorced, a complicated business as she was Catholic, but Richard had always been resourceful, with a quick mind and a shrewd leaning towards cutting corners, so he succeeded in getting the marriage dissolved. These abilities were going to serve him well in what lay ahead for him, too.

It was going to be many years before Richard saw his sons again – although he was never to see his eldest son Angelo ever again. The youngest, Mark, finally found his father in his late teens. That still lay many years in the future, many years in which Richard’s thoughts turned to his sons on a daily basis. Unfortunately, all attempts at communication were intercepted by Yolanda who was not the forgiving type. Being a Sicilian by birth and nature, she was more than capable of harbouring a grudge and she harboured one for Richard. She blamed him entirely for the breakdown of their marriage, and his eventual decision to return to England alone. In doing this of course, she may well have been correct.

Among other things, Richards’s plans involved the purchase of his first property. He knew – as his grandmother had always told him – that there was money and security in bricks and mortar and he wanted some of this. It was far from an easy task, though, as one redundancy after another followed in quick succession. Richard stuck at it, as one door closed another opened, and he was able to keep his dream alive. Until one day, whilst working on yet another housing project, covered in mud and sawdust, he observed the site manager sitting in the site office in front of a warm electric fire, whilst he was out in the rain trying to pitch roof rafters that were determined not to be pitched. It was then that Richard had his epiphany.

The site manager was around Richard’s own age and certainly knew no more about the construction industry than Richard did, but he had a formal qualification, a piece of paper that said he was an experienced site manager. He had an education to go with it, with more pieces of paper that further established his credentials. Richard had none of these things, but was determined that this would not stop him from putting his plan into action.

A visit to his local reference library, followed by several evenings of intense study ensued until Richard was satisfied that he would be able to pass himself off as a fully experienced site manager. There were risks of course, but none that he saw as impossible and not worth taking. It was not long, therefore, before he was ready for the next stage of his plan. Richard was aided in his plan, by the fact that there was a building boom in progress. Qualified experienced site managers were in short supply, and much in demand.

There were many agencies that were bending over backwards to serve the construction companies, thus earning their fat commissions and individual bonuses. At such times, few background checks were carried out, such was the need for skilled managers. If an agency presented an applicant, it was assumed by the company that all checks had been carried out, when this was far from accurate and only served to facilitate Richard in his plans.

Which were, of course, to introduce himself as an experienced site manager to an agency, with fabricated qualifications and experience, and get himself placed with a company as a site manager. It was all so much more straightforward than Richard had imagined. He selected the agency and, with one phone call and a few well-rehearsed lies, he had an interview with a respectable house-builder. The interview went well, Richard was always a convincing liar, and he had his first role as a site manager.

He was both nervous and apprehensive on his first day on site, as was to be expected. Fortunately, there were no awkward questions he could not answer and as the days and weeks passed, he grew reasonably confident. Whenever a situation arose where he needed information he did not possess, he phoned old Pat, who would normally have the correct answer. Soon, being a quick learner, Richard developed the skills and experience to be able to do the job properly.

As the project he was on neared completion, there had been no word from his employers about another project and Richard became anxious. It was time to put the next phase of his plan into action and obtain a mortgage. For this he needed a property. He found himself a rundown little cottage and obtained his mortgage by being economical with the truth once more. In those days, lenders were extremely happy to give mortgages, too, and Richard had his first home.

By doing favours for a few contractors on site, he was able to get the work carried out on his new property for little or no cost. Before long, what was once a rundown semi-derelict cottage now had a new roof, an extension, a new bathroom and a fitted kitchen with modern appliances. It was after things had reached this point that Richard had his first taste of the bitter pill of unemployment as a site manager. Only one month’s salary in lieu of notice and another month’s salary tax free, as a redundancy payment. Back went the company car, and Richard found himself unemployed with a large mortgage.

On the plus side he had an excellent reference from his employers, which stated quite clearly that he had been a valued and efficient site manager and one that they were extremely sorry to lose. Armed with this testimonial to his ability, Richard remained convinced that he would soon acquire another position. In this expectation he was right. It was not long before he had secured himself another job, and he was even able to achieve an increase in his previous salary and a better quality car. He was off building houses again, thanks to yet another agency guy keen to obtain his rewards. Things appeared to be going well once more for Richard Walker.

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2

A NEW BEGINNING

As the economy rose and fell over the next few years, so did Richard’s employment history. By 1979, with the first female prime minister in British history occupying Number 10, Richard had been made redundant a further three times. Each time, however, he had managed to get another position at a higher grade, with a larger car and salary. Richard was no longer a regular site manager; he was now a construction manager, in charge of many different sites and the site managers that ran them.

It was at this time that he met and fell in love with Tracy, the nineteen-year-old daughter of a local potato farmer. It was a chance meeting, over a game of pool in his local village pub. She came in with a female friend and wanted to play pool. Although she lost the game, she won his heart, and he won hers – they were married within six months.

Tracy moved into the cottage and all was well. Richard was extremely happy for the first time in a long time. Although her parents were little more than ten years older than him, they had welcomed Richard into their family. He had a loving wife, a nice home, a decent job that came with a nice car and an expense account – and of course the occasional kickbacks from contractors. Then along came the latest blow to his comfortable existence. Today, he had been told that the current economic downturn meant that house building was on the decline. He had been given three months tax-free salary, told he could keep the company car for a month before returning it, and once again Richard found himself unemployed.

So now he sat nursing his pint of lager in his local pub – by coincidence the same pub where he and Tracy had first met. It was where he often called in for a pint or two on his way home from work, he now sat wondering how he was going to break the news to his wife. More importantly, how was he was going to get another job in what was fast becoming the worst economic downturn for decades? Little did he realise that his life was about to turn around, and that fate had in store for him many opportunities – and many surprises.

Ron the publican approached Richard. He had sensed that all was not well with the usually eloquent and entertaining Richard, who had been nursing his pint for much longer than was customary. Ron had known Richard from the time he had purchased the cottage, and had called into the pub to get to know the locals. Ron shared a common interest with Richard in the sport of kings, and Richard and he often swapped tips and opinions on the merits of backing certain horses. More often than not, the tips and opinions were wrong, but it formed a bond between them.

Ron was in his mid-fifties, married, with two boys only slightly younger than Richard. He had worked his way up, somehow, from being a coalman in the East End of London, to owning three different pubs in the surrounding locality. He owned this pub in Richards’s quite corner of Kent and two more in neighbouring villages. Ron saw a little of himself in Richard and, although he knew little of Richards background, life had taught him to recognise a chancer when he met one. Ron had Richard accurately taped as one of life’s chancers.

As Ron placed another pint of lager in front of him, he turned to Richard and asked, So why the long face then, Richard? It was Ron’s attempt to cheer up Richard – a free pint was always welcome. Richard, generally the heart and soul of the bar, definitely looked as if he needed cheering up.

Thanking Ron for the free pint, Richard proceeded to relate current events to him, leaving out of course; any mention of false documents, kickbacks or anything that Richard felt he wanted to keep to himself.

Well, son, said Ron after Richard had finished, It seems to me, that you have to get yourself back into action, contact these agency people, make a few calls.

Richard knew he was right, there was no point feeling sorry for himself and, even though things were getting extremely difficult in the construction industry, there had to be something going out there. So, Richard resolved to take Ron’s advice and start making calls tomorrow. Something was about to occur that would affect both him and Margaret Thatcher, and change both their lives around. Argentina invaded the Falkland Islands the next day. Thatcher dispatched a fleet to the Falklands and people forgot about the economy. Then Richard phoned an agency and got an interview, two seemingly unrelated events, that were eventually going to intertwine – if only in a small way.

Tracy listened to what Richard had to say after he finally got home from the pub, the drink inside him doing nothing to help his cause. He told her everything that had occurred that day and, finally after it was all out in the open, she held both his hands in her own. She looked into Richard’s eyes and said, I know everything is going to be fine. You have gotten where you are today by sheer hard graft and fate or whatever is not going to turn its back on you now.

Richard looked at his young wife, mature beyond her years, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he said, I love you, Tracy, and whatever it takes I am going to ensure that we will survive this and come out on top.

They climbed the stairs to bed and made love, forgotten were the events of the day as they lost themselves in each other. Forgotten also, was any precaution, which was to result in nine months’ time with the appearance of young Emma in both their lives. The next morning, awoken by the sound of a male pheasant’s shrill cry as he made his presence known to any females in the area, Richard made his way down the stairs where Tracy was already making his breakfast. Richard watched her as she poured the coffee and thought to himself that – no matter how bleak things seemed at the moment – with Tracy standing by him he could change things around. He felt at that moment, that he could rule the world.

Good morning, treasure he whispered as he took her in his arms, and kissed her gently on the neck. How is my little angel this morning?

Tracy turned until she was facing him, and uttered these prophetic words.

I dreamt last night after we made love that we were living in another country and that we had a family. We were also without any financial pressures and we were happy. It was a strange dream, and I cannot remember all the details, but it left me with the certain feeling that everything was going to be fine.

Richard smiled at her, thankful that God had blessed his life with Tracy. He felt once again that she was right, that things were actually going to turn around. He went to the telephone to make his request to Steve, the agency guy that had found him his last couple of positions. His thoughts were about Tracy and how her confidence in him was such a motivating thing. He reached for the phone, about to make the call which would start the helter-skelter of events that life had in store for them.

He listened to Steve explain to him, in detail, the precarious state of the construction industry and the limited opportunities available, and Richards’s heart began to sink. All the confidence of a few minutes earlier was starting to ebb away, until Steve said these simple words: I do have something on my books – it only came in this morning – it’s not your usual type of job as it’s only temporary, but it might suit you until things improve in the industry, he told him.

Richard listened as Steve outlined the role and its requirements, the possible salary and all the details as he knew them, and Richard began to get all his old self confidence back again.

It’s a post with a project management company, said Steve. They are currently engaged on a project for the Church of England in Westminster, London. There’s no car on offer, but you can negotiate your own salary, it will involve travelling up daily or staying in London. They seem particularly keen to get someone on board quickly. What do you think?

Richard had no idea what was involved in project management – it was an unknown genre for him, but as usual he did not permit such a minor detail as ignorance of the facts deter him from pushing himself forwards. It sounds a distinct possibility, he told Steve. See if you can fix me up an interview, I am more than prepared to give it a go.

Steve did just that, and a meeting was arranged with an Anthony Galle-Williams in two days’ time.

Richard spent the intervening forty-eight hours, once more ensconced in his local library, reading all about the concept of project management, absorbing every detail, determined that the interview would not fail due to his lack of knowledge. These days all it would take is a click of a mouse to get that information, but back then, in the times before the internet and laptops, the library was all there was. But, for Richard, it was enough.

3

THE INTERVIEW

Two days later, Richard was on the fast train to London. To pass the time, he once again started reading the book on Church House, which he had borrowed from his local library. Originally conceived as a London meeting place for clergy, and providing both accommodation and meals, it later evolved into its present status as the London headquarters of the Church of England. It was managed by the Corporation of the Church House, who acted as landlords to the many church-associated tenants now within its walls.

The building itself was directly behind Westminster Abbey, and was now where the General Synod – or Parliament for lack of a better description – of the Church of England met twice a year to vote on their important issues. There were many large halls that combined with the central grand Assembly Hall, were ideal for this purpose. The National Society, the missions overseas and a host of church-related boards and councils now made up the tenants of Church House – as well as one or two government departments.

The building, though it looked as if it had been around for several centuries at least, was first commenced in 1888 but not actually started in earnest until 1937, when Queen Mary laid the foundation stone, due to tenancy problems in adjoining properties,. It opened its doors on 10th June 1940, first opened by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, who attended the first General Synod in 1940. It then closed its doors again until 1950, at least as far as the Church was concerned, as Winston Churchill, the prime minister at the time, took over the building.

Churchill regarded Church House as a safer venue for parliament to meet in during the war years than the Palace of Westminster – which was a target for every Luftwaffe bomber pilot. As Richard’s journey took him towards its imposing doors, Church House, itself, was undergoing yet another transformation. This time, the vast Assembly Hall and other less imposing halls were being converted into a conference centre. The Church of England was trying to pull itself into the twentieth century and capitalise on its assets as it, as much as anyone else, was experiencing the effects of the economic downturn that gripped the world.

Being the second largest landowner in the country after the Crown Estates, one could be forgiven for thinking the Church of England was recession proof, though they were far from it. Years of mismanagement, unsuitable investments bordering upon the criminally inept and solid liabilities – like pensions and salaries, all indexed linked – meant that, as Maggie’s fleet sailed towards the Falkland Islands, the Church of England’s finances were sailing downwards into oblivion.

That is why, against stiff opposition from the die-hards, it had been decided to earn income by converting that portion of Church House – the area only used twice a year for Synod – into a conference facility. A budget and schedule agreed upon, work commenced once a project management team were engaged and contracts awarded to architects, quantity surveyors and of course a main contractor. It was decided to award the project managers contract to Property Project Partnership – a subsidiary of a much larger company based in the West Country. A subsidiary that was only created to tender for the Church House conference centre contract, as Richard was to later discover.

PPP, as it came to be known, was run by the son of one of the founding fathers of the main company in the West Country, a certain James Rutledge – an ineffectual individual who favoured show over substance, drove a restored classic Bristol motor car and lived in Hampstead. He, in his turn, appointed Anthony Galle-Williams, an ex-gas installer in his mid-twenties. Anthony had vastly inflated opinions, especially concerning his own importance and abilities; he had been born plain Anthony Williams.

James appointed Anthony to lead the project as senior project manager. It was almost inevitable, therefore, that the project was both over budget and behind programme. Queen Elizabeth herself was due to open the Synod on the 5th of November and this date was immutable, whether the project was finished or not Her Majesty would be there on that day. This was the scenario to which Richard Walker was heading, completely unaware of all these things, of course.

Richard was determined to do well at the interview and hopefully get the job. He was aware that his and Tracy’s future financial security depended upon it. His mind was full of all he had read about the concept of project management and how it differed from anything else he had undertaken to date. Apparently, it was the way forward. Instead of a client appointing a main contractor, whom he managed himself, the client appointed a project manager who ran the project for the client for a set percentage of the contract value and absolved the client of any day-to-day responsibility.

As – apart from the Church Commissioners – the Church was not overly top heavy with personnel experienced in the art of placing and overseeing building contracts, it made sense that they would take this option. The down side to this option was that, unlike with a main contractor, the client would have no recourse against the project management team for compensation for failing to meet budgets and deadlines. A fact that they were starting to regret as Richard made his way around the back of Church House and into Tufton Street where PPP had been allocated office space.

As he entered the office of PPP, Richard was treated to his first sight of Melissa, the general matriarch of the PPP office. With her toothy smile set in her coal black face, she greeted him warmly. Melissa had such a deep voice, full of bubbly laughter and quite intoxicating to listen to, that Richard took a moment to study its owner more closely. He guessed fairly accurately, that she was in her mid-twenties. She was no string bean, quite the opposite really, but she had a way about her that made men stop and take notice. Just like Richard was doing at the moment.

Mr Galle-Williams will be with you shortly, she informed him. Can I get you a tea or coffee while you wait? This was to be the first of many coffees that Melissa made for him, although he was unaware of this as he studied the rest of the people in the office. It seemed to him that there were at least another four employees of PPP from what he could make out from the comings and goings in the office.

In this he was correct. There was Trevor, originally from Ghana and a resident of the UK for the past twenty years. Trevor appeared to be in his forties, he was wearing an immaculate suit and collar and tie. Richard could not imagine Trevor on a building site in Kent no more than Trevor could himself. Trevor had a qualification, the result of taking evening classes; it was just a pity it was in business management and not construction management.

Then there was a young lad in his early twenties called Sean, originally from County Cork. He had a look of total bewilderment on his face, which Richard was later to learn was a permanent fixture. As he looked around, Richards’s eyes alighted on a tubby, jolly-looking chap who Richard estimated to be in his early thirties. This chap went by the name of Daniel and travelled up from Bromley, Kent every day, where he lived with his wife Julie. Daniel, it transpired, did have experience in the building game, having been apprenticed to a firm of Bromley builders as a bricklayer – an apprenticeship he failed to complete. His most recent employment, prior to PPP, was as foreman on a house building site.

Then finally, there was Peter, who did not like to be called Pete, and Richard guessed his age to be around twenty. He was, apparently, the son of a friend of James Rutledge and a final year student gaining work experience. Peter had ambitions to become an architect as his father before him, but for now his main occupation appeared to be trying to collate and organise the hundreds of drawings that littered every possible inch of office space.

As he sat engrossed in studying his surroundings, Richard almost failed to hear Melissa’s sexy voice, informing him that Mr Galle-Williams was ready to see him.

Straight up the stairs, honey, said Melissa, pointing towards an internal staircase that led from the main, ground floor office to the first floor. As he thanked her and placed his foot upon the first step, little did Richard realise what a significant step he was indeed taking.

Richards gaze fell upon a young man who looked about thirty, although he was to learn later that he was only twenty-six. He was dressed in a Thomas Pink, double cuffed, blue-striped shirt, accompanied by a rather garish – but obviously expensive – silk tie and finely creased blue slacks. Richard had his first glimpse of Anthony Galle-Williams.

Come in, and welcome, were the first words that he ever spoke to Richard. Thanks for coming, take a seat, he said to Richard.

Thank you for agreeing to see me, replied Richard, as he took a seat opposite Anthony.

Anthony’s first words after this came as something of a shock to Richard. There was no enquiry regarding Richards work experience, or even outlining the project for Richard. Instead Anthony came right out with, So how much is it going to cost me to get you to take this position, then? Richard had expected a few other questions relating to his suitability to the position, not to be asked outright what salary he expected to earn. It seemed to Richard as if he had already gotten the job, but he decided to play it carefully. Even though, he felt a wave of excitement sweep over him, he considered his answer carefully. Thinking on his feet and quickly came natural to Richard, and so did his answer.

Before we get down to the question of salary, I have a few questions of my own, said Richard. Anthony seemed a little taken aback by this response, but indicated that Richard should ask away. Are we talking permanent position, or just for the duration of this contract? What is the completion date of this contract and how far behind are you? What exactly would my position be and what would be my duties and responsibilities? These Richard felt, were all pertinent questions that gave out the impression that Richard was a competent and experienced project manager, and they appeared to do just that.

Anthony was less than forthright with his answers to Richard’s questions, so much so that Richard was able to form an accurate opinion of Galle-Williams. Anthony was a chancer, albeit a particularly smooth and accomplished one, a chancer none the less. Richard left the office of PPP within the hour with the self-assurance of a man that had just secured a new position – and on an excellent salary, too. Richard felt elated, as he made his way to Charing Cross station.

As the train sped towards Kent, taking Richard back home, he reflected upon the day’s events and, in particular, the precarious state of the programme that he had just agreed to run. He was to be senior project manager under Anthony Galle-Williams. Richard was under no illusions, there was a lot wrong with the way the project was being managed up to now. It seemed to him – even though he did not have all the facts and figures – that it was highly unlikely that the Queen would be able to open the General Synod on the 5th of November. Not without wearing a hard hat and high visibility vest that is.

For once in his life, Richard felt a slight pang of self-doubt creep through his bones. Was he capable of turning things around, could he make a difference? These thoughts did not last particularly long as Richard decided that he would give it his best shot and not just go through the numbers, take the money, and run. He realised that there was every possibility that he was being bought in at such a late date, not as the project’s saviour, but as the scapegoat for when it all went pear-shaped instead.

Looking on the bright side, as he was always prone to do, Richard told himself that at least he had a minimum of seven months’ employment on a good salary. Then, if things did not work out, there was every possibility that the economy would be out of recession by then, that the housing sector would take off again and other jobs become available. He felt optimistic and resolved that, once he had told Tracy all the news, he would take her out to dinner to celebrate his new position – a position that he was due to commence in just two weeks’ time. Richard sat back in his seat, took out the magazine he had purchased at Charing Cross station before catching the train, and, for the first time that day, he allowed himself the luxury of finally relaxing.

4

FIRST DAY, FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Richard caught the train to London to begin his new employment on the 2nd of May, 1982. He purchased a copy of the Daily Telegraph from the station newsagents to occupy him on the journey and take his mind off the nerves he felt at embarking upon his latest deception. Although he was getting to be an old hand at re-inventing himself, he never allowed himself to become complacent and went over every detail time and time again to ensure that he had everything he needed stored in the recesses of his brain somewhere. Britain was at war and here he was embarking on a new career – albeit one obtained falsely – but necessity was the mother of invention, as far as Richard was concerned, and he needed this job.

As the train finally arrived at Charing Cross, Richard alighted among the hordes of fellow commuters and retraced his steps of two weeks ago along the embankment towards Parliament Square. This time, the cherry blossoms were out on the many trees that adorned the green areas along the embankment, bringing a touch of colour to an otherwise drab city walk; whose only other saving grace was the mighty Thames to his left. Without at first consciously realising it – his mind filled with thoughts of his new position and going over  all the facts about Church House and the principals of project management in his mind for the umpteenth time –Richard found himself on the steps leading up to the Tufton Street entrance to Church House. He entered the rather unimposing door and into the offices of PPP.

He was welcomed by the delightful sight of Melissa.

Good morning, he said. I am surprised to see you here ahead of me, is this your usual time?

Heavens no, replied Melissa. Although I do try and be the first to arrive, it is never quite this early. I was out last night with a few girlfriends, we headed up West and I got lucky, if you follow my drift? I came straight to work from his place, which was closer than going back to my place in Brixton.

Richard noticed that Melissa was hardly attired for a night on the town and when he remarked upon this Melissa gave her throaty laugh and took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to the domain of Anthony Galle-Williams.

At the far end of the open plan office was a row of three wardrobes. She produced a key from somewhere and proceeded to open the one to the left. Having done so, Richard was amazed to view a selection of evening wear and business attire, all female, and obviously the property of Melissa.

I keep a few bits and bobs here just in case Anthony needs me to accompany him to a meeting somewhere and then I do not feel underdressed or have to go back to Brixton to change. It’s also quite handy, of course, when I get lucky like last night, she added with a wink.

Richard had learnt quite a lot in his new career and knew that the first thing he had to do was win the respect of his fellow workers, but, more importantly, the contractors, the people that did the actual work. He estimated he had about an hour, before the first of the staff would arrive and he used the time gleaning as much information from Melissa as he was able to, as he had worked out quite correctly that nothing happened in this office that did not go through Melissa.

So tell me how you came to be working here, enquired Richard.

Let’s see now, answered Melissa, like everyone else that’s working here, with the exception of young Peter, I came here via an agency. I had been temping for two years prior to getting this gig and I have been here for almost a year. There have been several comings and goings, Trevor and I are the longest here.

So what’s the story regarding Anthony? enquired Richard. He seems a trifle young to be running a project like this.

Melissa again treated him to one of her throaty laughs as she replied, Never let him hear you say that. He is so far up his own backside, he cannot take any criticism at all, not even regarding his age, which, incidentally, no one is exactly sure about, but we all think he has yet to reach thirty.

Richard spent the remaining time before the rest of the PPP staff arrived learning a few more facts about PPP, Anthony Galle-Williams and James Rutledge. He also learnt that the client, in the shape of the Corporation