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The same day, 8:56am

     The bang was loud enough to shake the double-glazed window in its stone frame, causing Theo Macgregor to snap his head up sharply from the desk – only to then wince at the pain in his neck. Bloody paparazzi – what were they playing at now?
     He looked down at the thin pile of papers that had ended up being his pillow for the night. His blurred vision couldn’t make out more than the emboldened subject line of the epistle on top: "Resignation". Theo rubbed at his eyes as he leaned back, and grimaced as a rank odour reached his nose from the armpits of his faded Superman T-shirt.
     Beside the papers was a large mug containing the dregs of some black coffee. Theo brought it to his lips, and grimaced again – but drank nevertheless.
     With a gasp of forced satisfaction, Theo then rocked forward and stood. To the left of the window hung a framed photograph of a woman and two small children, a girl and a boy, huddling in a park as they smiled at the camera. Theo encouraged his eyes to focus on the detail in the image: the healthy colour of the woman’s face, though with slightly jaundiced and bloodshot eyes; the close-lipped smile of the girl, as if she was modestly guarding herself against stealing any limelight from the others; and the dimpled cheeks of the boy as his mother’s hand ruffled his hair.
     When Theo realised he was smiling, his expression froze. He grunted.
     He was awake.
     Turning away from the picture, he faced a wall of tall shelves which bore many an ancient tome, and stepped towards the door between them to leave his study and enter the hallway.
     He approached the thick dark wood of his front door to see if the jackals were still there – though he already knew the answer. A peek through the spy-hole prompted him to grunt in grim vindication. On the other side of the black iron gates bounding the wide stone courtyard stood a pack of reporters – some with cameras around their necks, some steadying video cameras on tripods, all with takeaway coffees in one hand.
     Theo stepped back and sighed. He might as well go to bed.
     His bare feet made no sound on the thick carpet of the stairwell. To fill the silence, Theo ran his hand along the brass banister. His palm was grey by the time he reached the top. When this was all over, he’d probably have to blow half his pension getting the house cleaned in readiness for its next tenant.
     As he opened the door to his bedroom, a sweaty musk rushed from within to brush his face. Just then, Theo felt a vibration against his thigh. He reached into his jean pocket, brought out his mobile, and checked the screen. It displayed the word, "Joanie".
     Theo frowned. Wouldn’t she be on the school run?
     He swiped the answer icon, then held the phone to his ear. "Hey J–"
     The cacophony of excited voices made the earpiece buzz, and he quickly held the device away so he could seek out the volume button. But, as he reached for it, a female voice managed to cut through the clamour.
     Seconds later, Theo was already speeding back down the stairwell as his phone hit the landing with a dull thud.

Next Chapter: Salma