Like climbing up a deflated balloon.

We were taking it in turns to look out of the broad bay window, into the street, where our eyes searched for the delivery driver.

“Another coffee, everybody?” said New James.

Nobody responded, but he picked up all the mugs and went to the kitchen and started shuffling things around anyway.

The day was bright and the curtains and the paintwork on the windows shimmered in cool light. Ed sat casually on the windowsill, one leg up and bent with his foot perched on the sill’s edge, one leg dangling, toe on the floor but heel in the air. He had trainers on. I sat cross-legged on the floor, shoeless and odd-socked. Seryn and New James were sharing the sofa while Trewin span around on an office chair. I had a throbbing pain in the upper-left quadrant of my back.

“Wee!” said Trewin.

“When do you think he’s coming?” asked Seryn.

“Could be a woman,” Trewin said.

“Oh yeah,” said Seryn.

New James returned carrying five mugs in one hand like a bunch of bananas and a big cafetiere of steaming coffee in the other.

“Not long now, lads,” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Ed. “I’m not happy about it.”

“Me either,” I said.

“Nor me,” said Seryn.

Trewin and New James agreed.

My phone rang. It was management.

“Anything?” she said.

“No,” I said.

“Well, we are where we are.”

“Yep.”

“Just keep on going.”

“OK.”

And I pressed the button to disconnect and looked at everybody.

“That was management. Are we just carrying on like this?”

And everybody responded with great enthusiasm.