I don't know what it was but it certainly wasn't blackcurrant. It was awful. Possibly licorice or aniseed.
I looked at the clock. I figured the speaker would go on for twenty minutes . That meant I had twenty minutes to suffer the sweet. I couldn't crunch it - too noisy; I couldn't swallow it - too big; I couldn't spit it out - could I?
I took out my hankie and made a big show of blowing my nose but just as I did so my neighbour turned to look at me. I quickly put my hankie away again without disgorging the sweet.
There was nothing for it: I had to sit and wait.
Twenty minutes passed and the speaker showed no sign of stopping.
Thirty. Thirty-five. How long could one man talk for?
Phew, nearly there.
Five minutes later he sat down; I leapt up and dashed to the kitchen. By this time I'm convinced that not only have I rotted my teeth by prolonged exposure to sugar but they're probably black as well.
I spat the sweet into a piece of paper and threw it in the bin. Heinke wanted to speak to me but I rudely said, 'No wait! Let me get a drink of water.'
And as for what subject the speaker was talking about, I don't have a clue.
It rounded off the morning nicely. Chris had been telling everyone about the community cafe we'd run during the summer and how I must have scared people off as I didn't get any customers on my days. He finished up by saying, 'No, I shouldn't make fun of her. She, um, well, Liz tries.'
He might as well have added, 'Bless.'