Cold Light
“Welch was experienced but lazy; some years before, he had realized that he lacked certain requisites for a really successful career. He lacked a wife, but clearly he wasn’t gay; he was neither a Mason, nor a Rotarian, nor the possessor of the right stripe of school or college tie; not driven by burning ambition, he had never successfully cultivated the appearance of someone sure to succeed. Poor David, he didn’t play bridge or poker, he didn’t even play golf. He had looked around and understood... the score. It would have been possible to move to another practice, another city, start again; he could have sought a new career—what he had settled for was an easy life.
“Your client’s waiting, Mr. Welch,” Millington said. “Along the corridor, third on the left.”
“I suppose you’ve been allowing him all the proper breaks? Rest periods? A decent meal?”
“Cod and chips,” Millington said chirpily. “Tea. No slices of bread and butter. Turned down the syrup sponge and custard.”MoreLess
“Your client’s waiting, Mr. Welch,” Millington said. “Along the corridor, third on the left.”
“I suppose you’ve been allowing him all the proper breaks? Rest periods? A decent meal?”
“Cod and chips,” Millington said chirpily. “Tea. No slices of bread and butter. Turned down the syrup sponge and custard.”MoreLess
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