Lady Flora was looking positively glum, reflecting the overcast skies as July’s monsoon lashed their favourite hangouts across SoBo. She found her preferred pew inside St Thomas Cathedral soon after a group of visitors had departed, and was staring aimlessly in the far distance, when Sir PM noticed her expression.

Choosing to sidestep the mood, he greeted her, “Well, hello there, My Lady! Here’s some steaming hot lemongrass tea and ginger biscuits to navigate this wet weather,” he announced, with a broad smile. “Ah! There you are. That’s kind of you, Pheroze. Tea would be just fine,” her downcast voice was a dead giveaway. “I sure need an upper, amid the news about Fitzgerald…” she began. Sir PM knew this was inevitably going to be their main topic of discussion, in light of it having made the front page in this newspaper last week. “Barely five years…imagine! How could this have happened, Pheroze? The report said that after the restoration by the Heritage Cell belonging to the civic body, things seemed alright and the fountain was well maintained. But who had factored the condition of its façade after the contract had lapsed post March 2025? Was nobody keeping tabs that such neglect, even for a few months, can cause wear and tear?” Lady Flora sighed.

Sir PM knew all too well about this scenario, thanks to his long association with his former employer. “I fully empathise. Your queries are genuine. This shouldn’t have happened. Fitzgerald would be very upset if he was alive, and had seen this kind of decay on the façade, especially after all the fanfare and effort that went into its exhaustive conservation, and finally, its move to the Dhobi Talao junction.”