An Inspector Calls Again
Southern Area Leisure Centre Regional Director, formerly Regional Inspector, Brian Kitson was dead: to begin with. There was no doubt whatsoever about that. This must be distinctly understood or nothing of the story we are about to relate will seem as wondrous as it should.
Whitbury Newtown Leisure Centre Manager Gordon Brittas, on the other hand, was not dead. There was no doubt whatsoever about this either. Despite many attempts to rectify the situation by amateur assassins, Bulgarian hitmen, water tanks and the Whitbury Newtown W.I., Mr Brittas lived on, much to the consternation of those around him. And so it was that at 1pm on a cold and snowy Christmas Eve, he was sitting in his nice warm office, perfectly alive and happily writing Christmas cards to each member of his staff. As his personal present to them, he was going out of his way to make sure that each one had a lovely suggestion for a New Year's resolution to encourage them make a positive and productive start to the coming year. Just as he was just stapling his sheets into Carole's card, there was a knock on the door.
Gavin entered, wearing the hesitant expression he always unconsciously adopted when about to ask something knowing full well the answer was going to be "no". He got as far "Mr Brittas, I -" before his boss interrupted him.
"Ah, Gavin, just the man! Can you ask the staff to gather in the restroom at four thirty this afternoon, please? I'd like to give my annual speech before they head home. I don't think it should take more than an hour and a half."
"Well, actually, Mr Brittas, that's what I came to ask you about. I - we - I mean - the staff were wondering if you had considered closing the centre early today?"
Mr Brittas scrunched up his face and took a sharp intake of breath. "Ah, Gavin, no, I'm afraid not. I did consider the proposal from the staff - and thank you for providing it in triplicate, very considerate - but I'm sorry, it's just not something I can agree to."
"But Mr Br-"
Gavin was cut off again, this time by a clonk from the intercom on the desk followed by Julie's voice. "All the other leisure centres are! That new area director bloke has agreed it. He said it was a generous festive gesture to the staff."
"Julie, that memo was for my eyes only! If you must know, I have a sent a return memo to our new Mr Jackson -" Mr Brittas gave a slight sneer as he said this name. "- explaining why I thought it was a bad idea and precisely why I approved of his predecessor Mr Kitson's decision to ban the practice of early closing. I must say, I have been very disappointed in Mr Jackson's haste to overturn to so many of Mr Kitson's excellent ideas, especially while the murder investigation is still going on." He tutted. "We are a public service, Julie, and, as such, should remain open to the usual end of the working day so that the public can have access to the facilities paid for by their taxes. We cannot simply close the centre on the whims of management."
"Doesn't usually stop you," came another voice from the intercom. Tim this time. "What about last week when you closed the centre for afternoon just because that kid's hamster got loose in the squash court?"
"Tim, as I explained at the time, that hamster was a fire hazard. What if it had gotten into the wiring, eh? One little nibble here, one bite there and the whole place would have been up in flames!"
"Mr Brittas, Tim has a point," Gavin interjected, partly out of duty-bound honour to support his boyfriend and partly to avoid Mr Brittas lecturing them for the third time that week on the fire regulations. "We are usually closed, and all the other centres will be. No-one will be expecting us to be open."
"Gavin, Gavin, Gavin," Mr Brittas replied with exasperation. "Suppose little Jonny asks his mother if he can go swimming as a Christmas Eve treat. She isn't sure we're open but little Jonny is so keen that she phones up Directory Enquiries to check our opening times. They tell her, as per our official timetable, that we are open and she tells an excited little Jonny that yes, he can have his Christmas swim. They travel all the way to the centre, through the snow, only to find us closed after all. Little Jonny's Christmas is ruined, just because we wanted to spend a bit more time in the pub. I will not be responsible for that. I'm afraid my answer is no."
Gavin sighed and there was a pair of groans from the intercom.
"I will see you all for my speech at four thirty and we can celebrate Christmas as a team," Mr Brittas accompanied this with an expressive hand gesture, "with the satisfaction that we have done our duty to public. Now, was that all? As I do have a lot to get on with."
"Yes, Mr Brittas," chorused three dejected voices.
Gavin ambled out of Mr Brittas' office into Julie's where she and Tim were sitting either side of the desk looking utterly fed up. Tim gave him a particularly doleful look. Gavin shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, Timmy, but it was unlikely he was ever going to agree.
"Great. So'll we be stuck here all evening. We'll never make it to the cottage," Tim replied grumpily, slouching even further into his chair.
"Of course we will," Gavin replied, going over to Tim and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"With Brittas planning a speech? No chance. We'll be here 'til midnight.
"I could always shred it," Julie said. "He's been on at me to destroy all the confidential paperwork on his desk -"
"Since September," added Gavin with more than a hint of disapproval.
Julie ignored him. "- and I could just accidentally pick up the notes for his speech…"
Tim shook his head. "Too risky. He'll improvise and we'll be here until next year."
Julie conceded the point with a grimace.
"I don't know why we bothered trying to have a nice Christmas. We should just accept that we'll never do anything nice with him around," Tim angrily jerked his head towards the door of Mr Brittas' office. "And if we don't get there this evening, there won't be time to prepare everything, the Christmas meal will be ruined and your parents will hate me!"
"I could always tell them not to come?" Gavin ventured, a bit too hopefully.
Tim narrowed his eyes, "No. You promised."
"But if it's going to make you this stressed!"
"No!" Tim snapped again. "You are not getting out of it."
"Oooh," Julie interrupted them with a knowing look at Tim. "Finally letting you meet his parents, is he?"
"Yes. Only took him eleven years and being pronounced dead."
"Timmy…" Gavin didn't like the way this conversation was going.
Tim stood up so they were face-to-face. To Gavin's immense relief, he smiled. "Oh don't worry, you still have brownie points just from telling them in the first place" Tim said, before kissing Gavin. "Just make sure we are out of this building by six o'clock."
The stern look Tim gave him as he said this firmed up Gavin's resolve. "Well, if Brittas stays in his office, we should be okay. Julie, perhaps if you just make sure he does stay in there, and no-one else goes in…"
Julie shook her head. "Oh no, I'm not stopping up here all afternoon with nothing to do but work. If we can't skive off to the pub then the pub is coming to us." Leaning down, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and placed on her desk two bottles of vodka, a bottle of whisky and a six pack of lager. Seeing Gavin's slightly startled expression, she explained, "It's the stash I keep for calming people down after they've been in with Brittas. I'm a bit depleted after the Brown Owl incident the other day, but it'll have to do. Take these, I'll get the rest, and we'll get everyone in the squash court."
Tim gave a decisive nod and started gathering up the bottles. Gavin, however, hung back, "I don't know, Julie. What if we do have a customer?"
"Then we'll give them a glass and ask them to join us," Julie replied as she pushed past him to get to the filing cabinet in the corner. She pulled out another pack of lager, a case of wine and a couple of bottles of gin, which she shoved into Gavin's arms.
"Do we need this much? There's not that many of us in."
"I need it. Alex has been hinting he's going to propose this evening. I'm not facing that sober."
"You don't normally get drunk when he asks," Tim said.
"I don't normally plan on saying yes, do I!" Julie replied, slamming the filing cabinet shut. "Come on," she said, grabbing one of the gin bottles from Gavin and marching out of the office before either of them could say anything.
Tim raised his eyebrows at Gavin. "Motherhood's changed her."
They followed Julie down to reception where Carole was packing what seemed to be the entire contents of her cupboards into a large suitcase. Tim stopped to talk to her, dumping his stash of alcohol on the desk while Gavin, too laden to stop, carried on towards the squash court, and Julie went into the restroom to round up anyone she could find.
"We're off to have a Christmas drink in the far squash court, Carole, if you want to come."
"Oh, I'd love to, Tim, but I've got too much packing to do," Carole replied, gesturing to the suitcase. "I've still got most of the children's things to do and Ben is being very picky about which toys he'd like to take." She raised her voice pointedly in the direction of the cupboard behind her. It was met with an annoyed child's scream, followed by the cupboard door being slammed shut from the inside. Carole turned back to Tim, lowering her voice again. "It's his first Christmas away from the centre, and I think he's a bit scared."
"I didn't know you were going away, Carole."
"Oh, didn't I tell you! I received a call out of the blue yesterday from an old friend. He's been abroad for a few years. We were very close for a while when I was younger," Carole blushed, "but he went to America around the time I met Derrick. He recently heard that I was divorced now and, as he's back in the country, wondered if we wanted to spend Christmas with him. He's rented a country house out by Bournemouth for the holiday and is filling it with all his old friends and their children. It's a bit of trek, of course, especially at such short notice, but I've worked out that as long we can make the seven o'clock train, we should be able to get there. Oh Tim, I'm so excited!"
Tim smiled, finding Carole's joy infectious. "Sounds lovely, Carole."
"I just hope Mr Brittas lets us leave on time."
"Oh, don't worry, Gavin has been instructed to make sure he does." Tim winked at her and, gathering up the alcohol, headed off down the corridor shouting back at her, "Come and join us in the squash court when you've finished packing!"
An hour later all the staff, minus Mr Brittas and Carole, were relaxing in the squash court and making a such sizeable dent in Julie's alcohol stash that they were considering sending one of the junior pool attendants out for more. Cheesy Christmas music was blaring from the ghettoblaster Linda used for her aerobics classes and the younger staff were happily dancing away. Colin was adding a to the festive air by rigging up a complex array of fairy lights across the ceiling, merrily pinning up wires as he rehearsed to himself what he was planning to say to Pauline in the pub that evening. The lights sparked a little here and there, but no more than normal for one of Colin's contraptions. Gavin and Tim were trying to persuade an increasingly drunk Julie to tell them why she'd finally decided to marry Alex while Linda was excitedly telling Patrick about her meeting with the bishop later that evening.
As the afternoon wore on and the alcohol continued to flow, no one gave any thought to Mr Brittas or the idea that they were supposed to be working. Even Gavin had stopped worrying about their boss finding them and, the other side of three beers, had even quite forgotten he had been tasked with making sure everyone arrived on time for Mr Brittas' Christmas speech.
And so, at half past four precisely, Mr Brittas found himself standing in a completely empty restroom, Christmas cards in hand. The only sign of any of his staff was the sound of Carole arguing with Ben about lego filtering in from reception. He waited for a few minutes, mentally rewriting his start of his speech to highlight the importance of punctuality and when still no-one turned up, he decided enough was enough.
"Where is everyone, Carole?" he asked sharply, causing Carole to jump as he came out of the restroom behind her.
She whirled around, quickly closing the cupboard door on Ben. "Mr Brittas! I didn't know you were there."
"Where are they, Carole?" he repeated.
"Who, Mr Brittas?"
"The staff, Carole! I asked for all the staff to be in the restroom at half past four precisely and there's nobody here. Now, I know I should make some allowances on the last day before Christmas but everyone being over six minutes late is just not good enough! Where are they all?"
"I don't know, Mr Brittas," Carole lied, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
"Carole!" Mr Brittas snapped. She caved.
"I think Tim and Julie may have mentioned something about going to the squash courts for a party, Mr Brittas," she said quietly, looking down at the floor.
"A party! On Christmas Eve?" Mr Brittas exclaimed. "When who knows how many customers could come through those doors at any moment!" He pointed and Carole turned to look doubtfully at the doors through which no-one had passed all day. She noticed that the snow was starting to fall more heavily now and prayed that her train wouldn't be cancelled.
"I don't think there are any customers, Mr Brittas," she said aloud.
"That's not the point, Carole." He sighed. "Right, you go into the restroom and I'll go and round up the rest of our errant staff." And with an exasperated "Cuh!", he marched off down the corridor in the direction of the squash courts.
Carole mumbled a sad "Yes, Mr Brittas" after him and, instructing Ben through the cupboard door to read to the twins whilst mummy was gone, went to sit on her own in the restroom.
She had barely had time to take her seat before Mr Brittas was back, holding out a Christmas card.
"Merry Christmas, Carole."
"Oh, Mr Brittas!" Clearly moved, Carole took the rather thick envelope. "Thank you!"
"I've included your performance review inside to help you plan your New Year's resolutions. I was planning to give them out to everyone at the end of my speech, but as there are quite a lot of suggestions for you, I thought you could use your wait to make a head start." Mr Brittas beamed at her, then turned and left without waiting for her reaction, missing seeing her smile turn to a look of dismay as she opened the card to find multiple sheets of paper carefully folded inside.
Mr Brittas arrived at the squash court to find a party in full swing under the glow of Colin's fairy lights. Everyone has so busy enjoying themselves that no-one noticed him until the main lights came on and the music was interrupted with a loud "Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh, what's going on here?" The mood was instantly killed as a room full of various disappointed, annoyed and guilty expressions turned to face him.
"I cannot believe what I'm seeing," Mr Brittas went on, glaring at each of them in turn. "What if a customer had come in and seen you enjoying yourselves rather than servicing their needs?"
"We're team bonding," shouted a very drunk Julie from the back of the room. "Getting to know each other. Like you're always saying we should!"
"Getting drunk on council property during work hours is not exactly what I had in mind, Julie." He spotted Gavin who was trying, unsuccessfully, to be inconspicuous at the back of the group. "Gavin, I'm very disappointed indeed to see you here. I thought I told you to make sure everyone was in the restroom at half past four precisely."
Gavin guiltily looked down at his watch. "Oh, I, er… sorry, Mr Brittas" he replied feebly, trying to ignore the fact that Tim had also turned to glare at him.
"Poor Carole is sitting up there all on her own waiting for you, and this might be the last company she gets until the New Year. So, come on, back to the restroom, please."
There was a dismal chorus of "Yes, Mr Brittas" as Mr Brittas waved his hands widely in the direction of the door to convey that they should all follow him. Their gloomy expressions changed to alarm as Mr Brittas' hand caught one of the leads dangling from Colin's fairy lights. The momentum of his swinging arm pulled it from the ceiling and it fell, bringing the rest down with it, engulfing Mr Brittas and the rest of the staff in a sea of wires.
The struggle to get free was too much for the already-sparking fairy lights and the bulbs started to blow, one-by-one. The staff froze watched in horror as a tiny chain of explosions passed along the wires. When the final fairy light on the end of the chain went out, everything became momentarily still, before ten seconds later, the plug socket exploded taking the main lights with it. The squash court and the leisure centre beyond were plunged into darkness. Amidst sighs and groans, Mr Brittas called out, quite calmly, "Get the power back on, Colin."
"I can't, Mr Brittas," came Colin's reply out of the darkness.
"Just do it, Colin."
"I can't. I haven't had chance to repair the back-up generator since the oil spill."
"Well, I think now might be a good time to do so, Colin."
"Yes, Mr Brittas," There was a scuffle, some grunts and a squeal as Colin untangled himself and felt his way through the group before hurrying out the squash court.
"So can we go to the pub, now?" Julie asked with a sigh. "We're not getting an electrician out at this time on Christmas Eve, not with all the blacklists you're own, so we may as well get out of here."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Julie," Mr Brittas replied.
"Why not?"
"Tell her, Gavin."
"I-I don't know, Mr Brittas," Gavin replied, sounding rather confused.
Mr Brittas gave an exasperated sigh. "Haven't you listened to anything I've told you today, Gavin? Our mystery hacker has been at it again. He, or she, has rigged up the computerised doors to make sure that they lock shut rather than automatically open if the power to centre is cut, and for them to explode, if we try and break through. I've spoken to the chief inspector about it and he said he'll get round to investigating it in the new year."
"So we're trapped!" Tim's voice contained more than a hint of alarm.
"There's no need to panic!" Mr Brittas said, raising his voices to be heard over the worried complaints of the rest of the staff. "I'm sure Colin will have us out of here in no time. Until then, let's break out the candles and go sing some carols in the restroom!"
Rather than no time at all, it took Colin almost six hours to fix the power. The staff had gathered in the restroom with the remains of the alcohol, resigned to seeing yet another Christmas Day staring at candle-lit yellow and green walls. Only Mr Brittas had remained in good spirits. Even his phone call home, with Helen's threats of what would happen if she had to spend Christmas alone with his family, hadn't dented his morale. At half past ten, he was happily engrossed in teaching Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer to Carole's delighted twins and barely noticed the lights flickering back on. The others were quicker on the uptake and sighs of relief filled the room.
It was only Colin rushing into the restroom, oily and frazzled, exclaiming "I've done it, Mr Brittas!" that finally got Mr Brittas' attention.
"Done what, Colin?" he asked, turning away from the children.
"The power, Mr Brittas! We can leave!"
"Well done that man!" Mr Brittas said, leaving Colin beaming. Jumping up, he grabbed his pile of Christmas cards from the table and shouted over the noise of the others pulling on their coats and making for the door, "Now, if I could just have your attention, please!"
Silence fell as they all turned to glare at him.
"Thank you! Now, before we all leave to go to our Christmas festivities, I'd just like to say a few words to celebrate the season and -"
"Sod that." And without so much as a backward glance, Julie was gone.
"Julie!" Brittas shouted after her, but his indignation was no match for the temptation of following Julie's lead and the others traipsed after her, wishing each other subdued a "Merry Christmas" as they left the centre. Only Colin, Carole and the children remained.
" - I've only fixed it temporarily, Mr Brittas, so I'll have to come back on Boxing Day to do it properly, but it should hold for the time being - as long as no-one tries to use the pool heating as I had to bypass that system, and I think we'll need a fair few new circuits boards -"
"Yes, okay Colin," Mr Brittas said wearily. He shook his head. "Would you believe it, eh?"
"What, Mr Brittas?"
"It's Christmas Eve and not one member of my staff had the goodwill to stay for a quick sharing of togetherness with the people they spent the whole year with!" He threw the Christmas cards back onto the table with disgust.
"Oh, well, it is late, Mr Brittas, maybes they were just tired."
"Tiredness is never an excuse to neglect your fellow man, Colin!"
"No, Mr Brittas."
They were interrupted by a small sob from Carole. She hadn't moved since the lights came on and was sitting in the corner, Ben fast asleep on her lap. The twins had crawled over to curl up at her feet.
"Are you alright, Carole?"
"Yes, fine, thank you, Colin." The high-pitch of Carole's response made it clear this was a lie.
"Just overjoyed by the lovely evening we've had, eh, Carole?"
"Yes, Mr Brittas." Carole descended into tears, hugging Ben to her more closely.
"Excellent!" Mr Brittas beamed at her. "Well, as everyone else didn't care to stay, we may go and join those families who are eagerly awaiting us. Come on, let's go home." And without noticing that Carole's sobs became louder at this, Mr Brittas headed out the door to reception.
Colin made to follow him but lingered back when he realised Carole still wasn't moving. "Aren't you coming, Carole?"
"Yes, yes, I've just got to get the children sorted. And then I'll go… home." Her voice cracked on this last word. Colin gave her a worried look, but she recovered herself and gave him a watery smile, "You go along, Colin."
"Well, if you're sure... Merry Christmas, Carole."
"Merry Christmas, Colin."
Leaving Carole to look after her children, Colin went out to reception just in time to see Mr Brittas heading up the stairs to his office.
"Aren't you going home either, Mr Brittas?"
"Just got to fetch Helen's present from my office, Colin. I always hide it here until the last possible moment to stop her finding it and taking it back to the shop. I know she just wants to save money and I do appreciate her thoughtfulness but I want her to know I think she's worth splashing out for at Christmas. I've got her a new visibility jacket for her moped this year!" He looked rather proud with himself. "She stopped wearing her old one - she said the visibility covering was wearing off."
"Oh," replied Colin, looking rather nonplussed. "Well, have a nice Christmas, Mr Brittas," he added, but Mr Brittas was already earshot. With a shrug, followed by a worried look at his watch, Colin hurried out into the snow, leaving Mr Brittas and Carole alone in the building.
A chill descended on Mr Brittas as he walked along the corridor to his office. It was so cold that frost had started form around his door. In his hurry, Mr Brittas almost didn't notice until he grabbed the handle of his office door, and found himself touching solid ice. He pulled his hand back in shock, only then noticing the cold whiteness covering the walls.
Assuming there had been yet another burst pipe, Mr Brittas looked up and was surprised to find the ceiling completely intact. He pulled his jacket sleeve down over his hand, gingerly turned the door handle and went into his office. As in the corridor, a thick layer of frost and ice covered everything, but there was no sign of a water leak or any other disaster. He went to peer at the windows, finding them as sealed for the air conditioning as ever.
Mr Brittas was bewildered. "Must be the heating system," he muttered to himself and bent over his desk to write a reminder to ask Colin to take a look at it on Boxing Day.
The office door slammed shut, sending an ice blast across the room. Mr Brittas looked up sharply to find a man he recognised standing on the other side of the desk.
"Mr Kitson!"
And indeed, Southern Area Leisure Centre Director Brian Kitson, deceased, was there before him. In leaden tones, he began "Gordon Brittas -"
"We thought you were dead, Mr Kitson." Mr Brittas interrupted. "The memo from head office was quite definite." Mr Brittas tutted as he realised what must have happened and smiled. "Did they just mistake you for dead? Believe me, I know what that's like. It's happened to me before. Twice, in fact. Had a funeral and everything." He gave a little laugh.
"I am dead, Gordon," Mr Kitson went on. "I have come from the other side to warn you that -"
"Mr Kitson, I'm aware that coming back from apparent death can be a jarring experience. I think you should sit down and I'll call you an ambulance." Mr Brittas went over to Mr Kitson, intending to gently take his arm and lead him to the couch, just as his last mental health first aid course had taught him. His course, however, had not provided advice on what to do if your hand went straight through the person you were attempting to assist.
Caught off balance by his hand failing to meet solid substance, Mr Brittas staggered forwards, then hurled himself backwards to avoid falling through Mr Kitson. He collapsed heavily against his desk, clinging to it as he steadied himself. Only then did he properly take in the man standing before him. He looked much as he had done in life but with a definite see-through quality. The still-frozen door handle was clearly visible through his stomach. Now Mr Brittas was paying him proper attention, he noticed that Mr Kitson's legs and wrists were bound in heavy shackles.
For possibly the first time in his life, Mr Brittas was completely lost for words and could do nothing more than stare at the ghost of Mr Kitson in horror.
Mr Kitson continued calmly, "Yes, Gordon, as I said, I am dead. I have been sent to help you avoid my fate."
"Avoid dying?" Mr Brittas managed to gulp out.
"Avoid ending up shackled like me, Gordon." With clear difficulty due to their weight, Mr Kitson lifted his arms to display his chains. "This is my punishment for the sins of my lifetime. Over a hundred years of stalking the world of the undead in these before I may enter heaven - one day for every life I blighted."
The indignity of this had the effect of overriding Mr Brittas' horror. "But why? What would you have to atone for after all the good work you did? I've never meet anyone with less evil intentions."
"Oh, my punishment isn't for evil acts, Gordon," Mr Kitson replied. "If it was, they would simply have sent me straight to hell. It was all the small inconsiderations; all the times I didn't pay enough attention to feelings and concerns of those around me. I was blind to it in life, but I see it all clearly now. I see why I deserve this."
"You deserve this?" Mr Brittas was growing more perplexed by the second.
"Yes, I do, and I am here to warn you a similar fate is awaiting you, Gordon."
"Me?"
"I am afraid so, Gordon."
Mr Brittas gave an exaggerated shake of his head. "No, I'm going to heaven. I've already been!"
Mr Kitson looked at him sadly, "I'm afraid the verdict from the angels is that they are not sure about letting you in a second time." He paused, then added, "Hell doesn't seem that keen either."
Mr Brittas looked rather offended by this. "But they sent me back precisely because my work on bringing about world peace through sport is so important!"
"It's not what you want to achieve that's the problem, Gordon, it's how you are going about it." The ghost of Mr Kitson starting to flicker and a faint icy breeze began to blow through the room. "I'm afraid my time on this plane is almost up. I came to tell you that it is still possible for you to change your destiny. This night, three ghosts will visit you and show you the way."
"I don't understand, Mr Kitson!" Mr Brittas cried, as the ghost of Mr Kitson began to fade before his eyes.
"You will, Gordon, you will. Expect the first ghost as the clock tolls one."
"But -"
"As the clock tolls one!" Mr Kitson cried, his voice echoing around the room as he blinked out of existence, leaving Mr Brittas alone in his office. The ice disappeared with the ghost and warmth immediately returned to the room.
For a few minutes, Mr Brittas stood motionless with shock as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Eventually, he straightened, smoothed down the front of the blazer, and said aloud, "Well, Gordy, it looks like that sherry Julie made you drink certainly had an impact. Best walk home. Not get into heaven? You? Cuh!" With a shake of his head, he walked with deliberate calm out of his office, leaving the room in peace.
Two minutes later, he rushed back in, rounded his desk and grabbed Helen's present before dashing back out again.
So wrapped up in his thoughts was Mr Brittas that, as he passed through reception, he failed to notice the faint glow of light still shining from the crack under the restroom door.