Taking the chocolates back to his desk, Peter was stunned.
'All this attention is so unwarranted,' was all that he could think. With his computer fully ready to go, he put down the chocolates and cut through the haze of thoughts swirling around his head, ready to get on with his job.
Time flew by as he got back to grips with things. It was like he'd never been away, with one exception... his email inbox. When he'd first opened it, he was barely able to believe his eyes. He had one thousand, nine hundred and eighty five unread emails. Where do you start with all of that?
Dead on half past ten, his office phone rang for the third time that morning. Picking it up while continuing to type, determined to make some headway on those outstanding emails, he instantly recognised the voice on the other end.
"Hello Mr Bentwhistle," said the voice softly down the phone. "It's Mr Garrett's personal secretary here."
Immediately he stopped typing and did a double take. Mr Garrett's personal secretary. The same fire breathing personal secretary as last time, able to turn you to stone with just a look, the same one who had constantly denied him access to the top floor, and only reluctantly let him pass when he'd tried to use the antidote to the poison Garrett had been affected by. It can't be the same woman, surely... can it? All of this buzzed through his head in a split second. As if to answer his query, the voice on the end of the phone continued.
"Mr Garrett would very much like to see you at eleven o'clock if that's convenient?"
"Of course, eleven o'clock would be fine," replied Peter, preparing to put the phone down.
"Uhhhhhh... before you go Mr Bentwhistle... I... I... um... I... um would like to say... sorry."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"I'm sorry for treating you so badly, you know... before."
'Ahhhhhh,' he thought, 'it is the same woman.'
Mr Garrett's secretary continued, clearly finding it very difficult, judging by the sound of her shaky voice.
"I know it's no excuse, but that, that Manson fellow, some of the things he said, and the way that he said them, well... it was all so... believable. I hope you will accept my heartfelt apology."
Not surprised to hear that Manson had been turning people against him, he supposed that he should have realised earlier exactly what had been going on.
"Apology accepted," he mumbled down the phone before the secretary could burst into tears. "Let's just put it all behind us and forget about it."
"That's very kind of you Mr Bentwhistle, we'll see you at eleven o'clock," answered the secretary with a sniff, before hanging up.
Peter's face lit up with a small grin, imagining whether the day could get any weirder.
At exactly 10.55, he put on his jacket and headed towards the nearest stairwell, on the way to Garrett's office on the top floor, not wishing to be stuck in a lift with anyone due to all the unwanted attention he was getting. Bounding up the stairs three at a time, he straightened his tie before going through the door at the top. In front of him, in the middle of the corridor, on the thick plush carpet, at her desk, was the secretary who he'd only spoken to a little while ago. She nodded and smiled at him as he walked past.
"Go straight on in, he's expecting you," she said softly.
Striding past the desk he noticed a wicker bin on the floor, full to the brim with used tissues, next to a very shiny yukka plant. Silently he hoped that she hadn't been crying on his account, but from the sound of her voice on the phone, he thought that perhaps she had.
Walking up to the oak door, he knocked twice and waited.
A soft, "Come in," floated through the door. Turning the brass handle, he opened the door. There sitting at his desk, beaming away, paperwork in hand, was Al Garrett, fit and well, in fact looking fitter and decidedly more healthy than Peter had ever seen him, even appearing to be sporting some kind of tan, with his normally pale skin looking a lovely shade of golden brown. With a wave of his hand, Garrett guided Peter to the chair opposite.
"Peter my boy, it's so good to see you," remarked Garrett jovially, putting down the paperwork he'd been perusing.
"You too, sir," replied Peter, vividly recalling the last time he'd been in that office. On that occasion, Manson had appeared unexpectedly, foiled his clever plan, sacked him on the spot and had him led from the building by armed guards. Not his finest hour.
"Less of the sir, Peter. Please call me Al as you have done in the past."
He nodded agreeably.
"Before we get into anything else, I have to ask, how are you? Have you fully recovered from your heroics? I was led to believe that you may still not be fully fit."
"I'm fine sir, um, I mean Al. I have only really fully recovered in the last few days, but I feel as fit as a fiddle now, and I'm so glad to be back at work."
"That's good to hear my boy, we've sorely missed you."
A warm, fuzzy feeling coursed through Peter's false body on hearing this, not realising how much working at Cropptech meant to him until he'd been injured and unable to return. It was just like one big happy family really. Since leaving the nursery ring and working above ground, he'd spoken to so many dragons in the same position on returning to the dragon domain. It was quite staggering the sheer number who thoroughly hated the cover jobs they'd been thrust into. It had taken him a long time to piece it all together... that there were jobs, good and bad, in exactly the same way as there were below ground. Fortunately he'd hit the jackpot when being sent to work for Cropptech, something he appreciated now, more than ever.
"I do have to offer you my most sincere apology for what you went through while that c... c... c... cad Manson was here. I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like for you. We all, particularly myself, owe you so much."
Peter got as far as opening his mouth to protest before Garrett waved his finger, signalling for him to remain quiet.
"Also I understand that Mrs Green, my secretary, treated you rather badly during that period.
Still not sure if he was meant to speak, he gave an awkward little smile, one that Garrett assumed meant yes.
"You have to understand, Peter, that during the time Manson was here, I had very little control over what I was thinking or doing, Looking back, the whole thing seems to be just one long, continuous blur. I don't remember eating or sleeping. All I can remember is being in this damned office, doting on every word he said, and believing it without question. I can't even remember hiring the damned man. I'm told that I hired him through a friend of a friend, who'd had a recommendation from someone in the army. But alas, I recall not a single thing. While I know now that I was under the influence of some very new and powerful drugs, thanks to the people at the... at the... now what were they called? Oh yes, that's right, the Illegal Appropriation of Precious Metals Bureau, which incidentally I believe you know, as they were the ones debriefing you and overseeing your recovery."
Feeling himself getting hotter and hotter, clearly the bureau to which Garrett was referring was the dragon clean up squad, straight out of the King's Guard.
"Um... yes, they seemed extremely knowledgeable, and have looked after me very well," lied Peter, hoping that the line of questioning would move on quite quickly.