It was cold in the corridor-poor insulation and inadequate heating. It’d be an oven in summer. I found a notice telling me the number of Dr Farmer’s room and tracked it down. The door was open and I heard voices coming from inside. I walked past, slowly enough to see a young female dressed like a student sitting forward in a chair and an older woman behind a desk. They kept their voices low and I couldn’t catch what they were saying. Probably wouldn’t have understood anyway.

I was early as usual and it was one of those times I used to fill in by smoking. Now I wandered around looking at noticeboards, passing a couple of other open doors, drifting back to Dr Farmer’s room. Ten minutes past our appointed time the student hurried away, backpack over one shoulder, scarf dangling, muttering to herself. I knocked on the open door and presented myself.

She stood and beckoned to me. ‘Mr Hardy. Sorry to keep you waiting.’

I went in and took the hand she extended. She was tall and well built with thick dark hair going attractively grey. I must have gaped just a bit because she laughed as she pointed to the chair. ‘I know, I know. I look like Germaine Greer. No relation. I just do.’

I sat and then stood. ‘Can I close the door?’

‘Of course. Have you been around a university lately?’

‘No. Not as a student for a long time and not otherwise for quite a bit.’

We both settled into our chairs. ‘You can’t be in a room with a student with the door shut-male or female. Possibility of improper conduct.’

‘Jesus.’