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Kevin turned to James. ‘The little gobshite who landed you in it with the licensing committee?’
He nodded in reply.
‘Max has been in various Facebook groups for festival goers,’ Elyse continued. ‘Telling people that the fence for the Foxbrooke festival is weak, and where the best places are to get through.’
James’s chin dropped to his chest. First the stage, then the toilets, and now this. The festival was screwed.
‘Can you strengthen the fence?’ his dad asked. ‘Get more security?’
‘No, Dad,’ James replied wearily. ‘There’s no money left.’
‘Maybe we could find some volunteers to help?’ Elyse asked.
‘From where?’ James asked. ‘We need big scary men, not spotty students or a bunch of oldies.’
Elyse’s cheeks turned pink. ‘I think I can find a few men who fit the bill.’
‘And I can find you more than a few who’d love the chance to terrify a bunch of long-haired, tent-carrying twats,’ Kevin added. ‘I think it’s time to call in a few favours. Elyse, babe, you got my phone?’
She took it from her bag and passed it over.
James stood. ‘I’m going to brief the security we do have and reply to the Facebook posts. Elyse, can you screenshot the messages and send them to me?’
She nodded.
‘And can you keep this from Estelle? She’s got enough on her plate right now.’
‘Okay.’
James turned to his dad. ‘I’ll be back later. We need to finish our conversation.’
‘I’ll be back home by tonight.’
‘Wait and see what the doctor says first.’ He hesitated. Was this the moment he told his dad he loved him?
‘You alright, Jamesey-boy? You got gas?’
Even Elyse was frowning at him.
Fuck’s sake. Who knew showing basic human emotion could be so challenging?
He shook his head. ‘I’m good. I’ll see you later.’ He strode from the room. If he couldn’t even manage to be emotionally open with his own father, then it was time to practise on one of his least favourite people.
James knocked on the door, the sound loud in the quiet corridor, and prayed that Perry had been wrong, and that no-one was currently in the room.
‘Come in,’ came a male voice from inside.
Taking a deep breath, James entered, closing the door behind him.
Henry stood, his expression guarded. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I wondered if I could have a word.’
Henry nodded, moving out from behind his desk towards a coffee machine and kettle on a small table near the window. ‘Can I make you a drink?’
‘Double espresso, please.’
Henry flipped the appliance on, then weighed out the correct amount of beans. The machine was not as high end as the one James had, but James was impressed with the care Henry was taking.
