Читать книгу: «A Part of Me», страница 3

James had always been part of that picture, but tensions had been growing lately. Somewhere along the line, we’d stopped laughing and making plans. I realised that there had only been one plan for a long time now, and what had started out as a joint venture had at some point turned James into a back-seat passenger on my much diverted road-trip to parenthood. But never had I imagined him not being there, somewhere, with me. Never had he said he wanted to get off this journey. Or maybe I just hadn’t been listening.

A bustling through the front door and my brother’s cheerful voice throbbed through the open hallway. ‘Hey, hey! Somethin’ smells good! Sam … don’t push! You’ll knock somebody over.’ Sam scrambled into the kitchen making a beeline for the biscuit jar.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Mum warned, leaping from her chair to intercept him. A waft of cool air came in with them as Guy plonked Harry’s car seat down on Mum’s pine kitchen table.

Lauren followed them all in, rosy cheeked, puffing mousy-brown strands of hair away from her face, arms full of the things Harry couldn’t possibly need in just a couple of hours. She dumped her bags and came straight over with an embrace, then reassuringly rubbed my arm. ‘Hey. How are we doing?’ I smiled crookedly letting her hug me for a second time. ‘I’m so sorry, Ame.’ I shrugged my shoulders. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t blub in front of the kids.

Guy scratched his short-cropped curls and threw me an unimpressed look. I glared back at him, in case he was under any illusion that dealing with Mum’s counsel wasn’t taxing enough. He arched his eyebrows and held his hands up briefly in submission. He wouldn’t say anything about James, for now. I let out a breath as he came over and planted a kiss on my cheek. ‘Just say the word,’ he said quietly. ‘He needs his arse kicking.’

‘Samuel Alwood! What on earth have you done to your face?’ Sam peered wide brown eyes out at Mum from underneath the hood of his duffel coat, a strange purplish bruise beneath his eye.

Lauren huffed as she pulled him from his coat. ‘He stuck a Tic Tac up his nose, didn’t you, buddy? Pushed it that far up there, burst a blood vessel.’

Sam grinned at his achievement. ‘I made Mummy’s legs go funny!’ he said triumphantly. Lauren was squeamish, which made it all the more baffling to understand how she’d had not one, but two children with my heathen brother.

I bent down beside Sam. ‘Let me see, Curly.’ He lifted his chin to allow me a better look. ‘Ew, gross. At least you’ll have minty fresh nostrils for a while, kiddo.’ I stole a kiss before he could make his escape.

‘Daddy said I can’t put anything else up my nose now, Aunty Ame. Not even my fingers.’

I ran my hand over the softness of his curls. ‘Good to know, kid.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s good advice.’

‘I’ve got some advice for you too if you want to hear it?’ Guy asked me.

The timer on the oven began bleeping urgently, answered with a grizzled response from the kitchen table. I ignored Guy as Lauren peered into Harry’s car seat and groaned. ‘Harry! We can’t spend all day in the car! It’s not practical.’ She began to unclip him from the seat harness as Harry’s protestations grew. ‘Guy’s taken to driving him around the estate to get him off!’ she said, scooping him from the chair.

‘You’ll want to get out of that habit, Guy,’ Mum warned, repositioning the oven trays. ‘He’s got to learn to settle himself sometimes, or he’ll grow up expecting the world to do it for him.’ She looked over at Lauren peeling Harry like a banana from his snow suit and completely lost track of what she was doing. ‘He is scrumptious, though,’ she cooed. ‘Here, I’ll get him off for you.’

Something began boiling over on the hob, sending a crackle of spitting water everywhere. Mum looked over at the veg.

‘I’ll take him,’ I offered. Harry bunched into himself like a hedgehog as Lauren handed him to me. I settled him into my chest and grazed my nose over his downy dark hair. He was going to be curly too. I took the deepest lungful of air I could manage. He still smelled of that something only new babies did. Of softness and milky cotton.

‘So? Have you seen him since you moved back?’ Guy asked tartly. Harry grunted softly next to my ear. I nuzzled into him, into all that cotton-softness and rocked him gently, unsure as to who was really comforting who.

Mum began mashing the potatoes with unnecessary vigour. ‘Have I mentioned the parish meeting at the community centre to you both yet?’ It was a transparent attempt to change the subject.

‘I haven’t moved back, Guy,’ I said, rubbing my cheek against my little friend’s. ‘I just needed some breathing space.’ I knew it wasn’t me Guy was angry at, but the situation. He was friends with James, he had him down as a good guy too. Guy was always going to struggle with that. He was black and white that way, always had been, but I had other things to consider – a whole spectrum of grey.

I walked away from my brother and lifted Harry’s tiny hand to my lips to press a kiss there. There was a reason new babies’ hands were sized to match an adult mouth. Kisses were meant for tiny fingers. Tiny, delicate fingers, so perfect it was almost inconceivable that they could be created so easily. So easily for so many. I held Harry’s hand against my mouth.

We’d never meant to fall pregnant. I hadn’t even missed a pill. It had just happened, and everything had changed, irrevocably. The doctor had told us ours was a determined little egg, the one in a hundred to outwit the advances of contraceptive science and bed down for a chance at life. By some twist of fate, we’d been shown something wonderful, and then, once we’d fallen in love with our tiny stowaway, fate had seen fit to take him away again.

Mum intensified her attack on the spuds. I indulged in another hit of Harry’s inimitable scent. ‘Come on, handsome.’ I clucked, strolling towards the conservatory windows. ‘Let’s see if we can find that little robin.’

CHAPTER 5

THERE WERE MANY days I’d have rather forgotten during my career as lead designer at Cyan Architecture & Design, but this one was already shaping up to go straight to the top of the leader board. A cyclist with a death wish had just committed the cardinal sin of cutting us up and Mum was still growling at his disappearing reflection in her mirrors. ‘Sunshine always brings the idiots out,’ she huffed, catching up with the traffic ahead. I was making a point of not looking up there: the city buses were all running the same campaign, posters plastered above their bumpers showing three beautiful children in a tricolour of races, begging the question, Could you adopt?

‘Stop fiddling with your ear, sweetheart.’

‘I’m not fiddling with my ear. Watch the road.’

Mum threw me a sideways glance. ‘You’re bound to feel nervous, Amy.’

‘It’s not my first day at school, Mum. Thank goodness. Could you have bought a more obscenely coloured car?’

‘You’re supposed to be a designer – embrace the alternative. Anyway, madam, there’s always the bus.’

The bistro-lined streets were already alive with coffee-wielding officebots on their way to work as Mum pulled us over into the bus lane. I eyed the small private car park over by the biscuit factory. James’s car wasn’t there. Good. Thoughts of what our first encounter might hold had me turning myself in knots. It had been the same for days now, I’d try to work out what I was going to say to him, but even within the controlled parameters of my own mental monologue, it all got messy and jumbled. First the hurt of what he’d done would hit all over again, then the anger at his timing (because if your boyfriend feels the need to bonk one of your colleagues, timing made all the difference, of course). Thinking of James and Sadie together had invariably been enough to trip off further unsightly bouts of snotty crying each time I’d played it through my head. Not being able to remember the last time I’d driven James wild with a single kiss, or was woken in the morning with a kiss of his own, triggered my growing sense of inadequacy just as effectively.

One of the city buses honked and pulled around us into the lane.

‘All right, all right. I’m going!’ Mum snipped.

I tried not to look at the advertisement plastered across the rear of the bus, but eyes have a habit of seeking out what the mind knows isn’t good for it. I’d never been so glad so see an ad for broadband.

I jumped out of Mum’s lime-green Honda before I could change my mind. I needed to talk to James, I knew that much. But walking back into the office was a big enough hurdle to deal with today.

‘Amy?’ She was ducking to better see me as I straightened myself out on the pavement.

‘Please, Ma. No more advice.’

‘I just wanted to say, good luck. It takes courage to walk in there, Amy. You hold your head up.’

I stopped fussing with my clothes and smiled feebly. ‘Let’s just see how it goes, Mum.’ If I could get this out of the way, anything was possible.

I shut the car door and turned for the courtyard, power-walking towards the cluster of businesses before my feet had a chance to change direction. This did indeed feel like a first day at school. Only worse. The gusto of my power-walk pushed me straight through the glass doors and swiftly across the lobby where two figures loitered at Ally’s desk. ‘Morning,’ Dana called politely. Ally sat open-mouthed.

‘Morning,’ I called back, rounding the far doors into the offices. I was unwavering in my path.

I shadowed the wall intersecting the office, following it past the first pod of workstations where Alice and her team were already settled into their workload. The marketing lot had a good corner position on the studio floor, made cosy where red bricks remained resolutely exposed before running into the sleek white plasterwork flanking the rest of the studios.

The next group of workstations were all vacant, basking in sun where tall industrial windows stood like a row of guards, flooding the studios with natural light. The view they offered across the courtyard gave my eyes something to focus on while I made it past Sadie’s empty desk. I’d nearly traversed the first studio, past the kitchen where more bodies were loitering for morning coffee and gossip. I didn’t look inside.

The boardroom lay directly ahead of the interiors team’s workstations. I kept on with the power-walk then abruptly veered left, slinking into my chair. My heart was a little racy when I punched the button on my pc.

Not a word from any one of the seven bodies around me to compete with the lethargic hum of my computer. I resisted the urge to fidget. Across the low partition separating our desks, Hannah’s face was locked on her monitor. She was being careful not to look at me. Nine days on, it was safe to say even the cleaners knew that Stewart from reprographics was not the Nightshagger.

The other side of Hannah, Phil spun her chair around and sat casually back into it, grinning like a Bond villain. Hers was a unique brand of solidarity, but an effective one. At that predatory smile, a tension eased. You can do this, Ame. One awkwardness at a time.

‘Amy?’ boomed a voice from the office beside the boardroom. ‘A word.’ My next awkwardness was well over six foot tall and looming in the doorway there. Adrian Espley was an imposing man, with a near-military-grade haircut and the build of a person who had enjoyed rugby in a long forgotten youth, before the Guinness had taken over.

Phil’s smile never faltered. Be cool, she mouthed, as I waddled past her. There wasn’t enough of a distance to deploy the power-walk, damn it.

‘Close the door behind you,’ Adrian instructed, holding a huge hand out towards the chair beside me. I did as he asked, pulling on the hem of my fitted waistcoat before sitting down in the hot seat. ‘I’m not going to dance around, Amy. I’m not happy about this … situation.’

My face suddenly felt awkward and rubbery.

‘I don’t want to know who’s done what, all I give a toss about is will it cause me any problems?’ My hands felt clammy in my lap.

Be cool. ‘Of course not, Adrian.’ That was what he wanted to hear, after all. Adrian cleared his throat, a sound I’d come to recognise as his acceptance of a satisfactory outcome.

‘Excellent. Right, leave what you’re on and get Phil to run you through the Bywater file. New client, just bought a nice place out near Briddleton. Got it for a song, too – the vendors ran out of money before they had to sell up. Managed a nice job on the conversion, very nice, but it’s basically a sexy shell, nothing going on inside.’ I thought of the comparisons I could draw. ‘He’s got a fairly healthy budget and the mill would look fantastic in our residential portfolio. I want you to win us this contract, Amy. Get your teeth into it.’

Good. Work was good. I could feel myself relaxing. ‘Where are we at with it?’

‘He’s emailed over a few photos, and a set of AutoCAD plans that the previous architects drew up. He’s bringing everything else he’s got into the office this morning.’ Yes. This was what I needed. ‘Right then, I think we’re done here. Phil’ll get you up to speed.’

And like that, equilibrium resumed in Adrian’s company.

Phil was getting one of the architects up to speed on her drawings when I made it out of Adrian’s office. I began picking over the papers on her desk. ‘Hannah? Have you seen anything for a Mr Bywater? There should be a file?’

Hannah looked sheepishly over her shoulder at me. I sighed quietly. ‘Hannah, this morning’s awkward enough. I know how the jungle drums work around here, don’t worry about it, okay?’ Hannah nodded as I took a cursory glance back down the studio.

‘She’s not in today,’ Hannah whispered. ‘I heard Dana telling Marcy that Sadie phoned in sick again.’

A slap of papers hit the end of the desk. ‘Rohan Bywater. Has Adrian talked you through it, or was he too busy checking the balance of his applecart?’ Phil stood leaning with one hand flat on the desk, the other on her hip. ‘He’s due in this morning, you want me to do the meet-and-greet or—’

‘No, I’ve got it.’

Phil straightened up. ‘Is anyone booked into the boardroom? I could talk you through the file, more room to spread out.’

Adrian thudded from his office, shoving balled fists through the sleeves of his jacket. ‘Site meeting. I’m on the mobile,’ he declared, clumping out of the studio.

‘I’ll get the coffees,’ Phil said, following Adrian out as far as the kitchen. Phil had suggested the boardroom for privacy, not space. I gathered the file and walked through into the boardroom, fighting off the images of James’s naked groin in each of the chairs there. To distract myself, I laid out the photos of the Bywater property on the conference table. I still had my snout in the paperwork when the boardroom door clicked closed.

‘I’ve been leaving you messages,’ he said, placing the drinks he’d hijacked from Phil down on the long glass table. ‘I’ve been going crazy, Amy. Please, let me talk.’

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Funnily enough, that was what I’d thought the last time I’d seen him.

‘I can’t say anything in my defence, I know, but … it was a stupid mistake. A stupid, one-off mistake.’

‘One-off?’ I croaked. ‘You expect me to believe that?’ I choked on my words, an instant trembling firing up in my chest. Already, the conversation wasn’t going as I’d imagined it.

‘It was never meant to happen, I wish it never had. Please believe me, Amy, I love you. I need to make this right with you. Mum’s so excited about flying in—’

‘Forget the party, James!’ I yelped.

His expression changed. The blue of his eyes growing cooler. ‘So what? That’s it now? Just like that? You’re going to throw everything away? Everything, Amy?’

My head began to thump. Me throw it away? ‘You slept with another woman! You watched me go out, like a big idiot, celebrating our plans, and you – what? Bumped into her here? It was you she was on the phone to, wasn’t it?’ The thumping was intensifying.

James’s voice lowered. ‘I only agreed to meet her because she was going to tell you. She was going to do as much damage as she could. I couldn’t let that happen.’ I’d played this conversation through my head all week. Pointless preparation. ‘I swear, it had only been one time … I told her it was a mistake, and then—’

‘And then what?’ I snapped. ‘You met her to call it all off?’

‘Yes!’ James exclaimed, circumnavigating the table.

‘And what? You accidentally fell into her?’

James darted towards me. I stepped back to accommodate it. ‘Amy, shit! I know what I’ve done is as bad as it gets, but please! Let me fix this, we can get over this if you just … let us. Please, don’t throw away our life together. We’re so close to getting what we want, Amy.’

‘What we want, or what I want, James?’ The tingling was there again, threatening to render me useless and emotional. He stepped closer.

‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want our life, Amy. You know that.’

I could feel the burn, reaching the edges of my eyes. ‘But you betrayed me, James. You slept with her, and now everything’s falling apart. They’ll never give us our child now—’

‘Amy, Anna doesn’t need to know about this. Not unless you tell her. I don’t want to tell her, I want to make it right.’

Don’t cry here. Do not cry here, I warned myself. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I knew that James was playing to my weak spot, but knowing it didn’t make the words any less seductive. I grabbed onto the only thing that would keep me steady. The ugly truth.

‘How did it start?’ I asked, taking a sharp breath. He tried to take my hand but I hadn’t offered it. ‘Where?’

‘Amy, please. We don’t need to do this.’

‘When, and where, James? Has she been in my house?’

Outside, the studio had grown very quiet. A phone rang out, the sound rising above the diminishing volume of the voices around it. He moved over to the glass wall and closed the blinds. I remained where I stood, tense and unyielding.

He pushed both hands through his hair. His was that shade of blond that didn’t quite make it through childhood without acquiring a duller, muddier undertone. ‘Shit, Amy,’ he huffed, looking to his feet. He knew I’d hear it eventually. He approached the table again and idly moved one of the mill photos around under his finger.

‘She started coming on to me a while ago. I laughed it off, ignored her. And then she turned up at the gym.’

‘The gym?’ I sputtered. ‘You haven’t used the gym since your membership expired. That was before Christmas!’ I could hear something like hysteria, sprouting in my voice.

‘It wasn’t that long ago—’

‘Yes it was.’ The calculation reran quickly through my head. ‘You stopped going there because of your shin splints. That’s why I paid a fortune for your bloody bike! So you could exercise without your shins hurting!’

‘Amy …’

‘You’ve been seeing her for six months? Six months!’ Hysteria was giving way to red rage. All that time, he’d let me prattle on about us becoming a family.

‘She’s the reason I stopped going to the gym, Amy! She was there – and here at work … I couldn’t get away from her! She pursued me. I made one mistake, and I couldn’t shake her off!’ I started to feel giddy. ‘Amy, listen to me. I didn’t mean to sleep with her—’

‘Didn’t mean to? Didn’t mean to?’ I growled. Somebody knocked gingerly on the boardroom door. It wasn’t Adrian, he’d have kicked it down if he wanted to.

‘How are your shins now, James?’ I trembled, a disconcerting calm settled into my shoulders. Six months. Not a momentary mistake at all. Another rap on the door. ‘Did the bike I spent a month’s wages on – while you were at it with Glitter Knickers – did it help ease the pain in your shins?’

Another phone started ringing on the shop floor. No one answered it this time.

‘What are you talking about?’ James asked as the boardroom door handle began to rattle.

‘Your shins, James? How are they shaping up?’

James looked perplexed, so I saved him the hassle of asking again. I launched the toe of my red Mary Jane hard and sure into James’s leg. James yelped, grabbing at his assaulted limb. It hurt me, but it hurt him more.

‘AMY! What the f—’

‘I’m sorry, James!’ I retorted mirthfully. ‘I didn’t mean it! That deliberate, hurtful, action … I DIDN’T MEAN IT!’

‘Er, sorry to interrupt …’ The uncertainty in Phil’s voice rendered it almost unrecognisable.

‘What?’ I growled, the threat of tears driving on my anger. How could he? How could he sit through all of those meetings, the panel hearing, pretending that he wanted a family with me when all the time…?

Phil shifted awkwardly, taking in the spectacle of James sat on the photographs, purple-cheeked and clasping at his leg.

I quickly appraised the dark stranger standing next to Phil. Jeans and T-shirts didn’t usually feature this far from Tom’s end of the office. Baseball caps didn’t feature anywhere at Cyan. ‘Can’t you take delivery of those, Phil?’ I said breathily, nodding at the cardboard tube poking from the stranger’s backpack. Drawings were usually emailed in, but occasionally someone paid to have them couriered instead. ‘James and I are just … having a meeting.’

The delivery guy considered James, who was trying unsuccessfully not to grimace where he sat. Delivery Guy looked away, the beginnings of a smile eking across his boyish face. ‘I think she likes you, mate,’ he said, turning strangely pale hazel eyes this way. They were startling next to his dark hair and lightly tanned complexion.

Phil looked at James and began fighting a grin of her own. Delivery Guy pulled his cap from his head, revealing a choppy brunette crop that made his eyes all the more staggering. He instantly looked older. James winced and got to his feet. ‘Shin splints,’ he volunteered to the other man.

Delivery Guy pouted his acknowledgement. ‘Nasty old business, shin splints, my friend. Painful stuff.’ He was taller than James. Broader, too – his shoulders wide beneath the black tee, framed by the straps of his backpack. James couldn’t make him out either. He looked at me only briefly before hobbling out between the two adults trying to remain straight-faced in the doorway.

Phil moved further into the boardroom. ‘Um, Amy?’

I began absently tidying the photos on the table. ‘Yep?’

Six months. It was a lot of sex-time. A lot of time for hand-holding and secret-sharing.

‘Your next meeting …’ Phil said.

I looked up at her. ‘Hmm? What about it?’ Phil was smiling awkwardly, trying to convey something in the set of her lips. I frowned. ‘My next meeting what? Are these for me?’ I said, holding out my hand out for the tube of drawings.

Phil gave up. ‘Amy Alwood, Rohan Bywater. Mr Bywater is your next meeting. Shall I get Hannah to bring you some fresh coffees?’

I felt the colour drain from my face. Phil shrugged, pairing it with an I tried rise of her eyebrows. Mr Bywater sunk hands into his jean pockets and cocked his head, a dazzling smile reaching over his face as I squirmed on the spot. The drawings I’d practically snatched from his hands felt red-hot in mine now.

‘Er, Mr Bywater … sorry, come in … take a seat,’ I stuttered.

‘Should I grab some shin pads first?’ he asked, jabbing a thumb at the open doorway. An angry bruise leached purplish-red across his right elbow. I felt my cheeks flush a similar colour. Phil slipped back out of the boardroom leaving me to fend for myself.

‘About that, Mr Bywater.’ He was smiling. Amused lips, putting me off my already pathetic attempt to redeem myself.

‘Call me Rohan.’

‘What you just saw, regrettably, was er … not the norm, Mr Bywater, I can assure you …’ A white peep of teeth slowed me again.

‘Call me Rohan.’

‘Er …’ I nodded to expedite myself back to my point. ‘It’s no excuse … and I won’t bore you with the finer details, but …’

Rohan Bywater moved around the table to look at the stack of photos I’d neatly ordered in front of me. I waited for him to gather them up and take his business elsewhere. Adrian was going to go berserk.

‘Have you had a chance to look through these yet?’

‘Er, just a quick look,’ I bumbled. ‘To try to get a feel for the scale of the project.’

‘If you want to do that, you’ll need to come and see it for yourself.’ His skin was the colour of the many contractors I’d worked with – bronzed from daily exposure to the elements. He looked serious now, I wasn’t sure I didn’t prefer the smiling. I felt the back of my earring give under my fingers.

‘So, how does this all work?’ he asked, leaning back against the table’s edge.

My brain found a foothold. ‘Well, we can arrange a site meeting, take a look at the spaces involved. You already have plans and ellies drawn up—’

‘Ellies?’

‘Sorry, elevations. We’ll measure up and check them, talk through your requirements, put a fee proposal together for you.’ He was listening intently. ‘If you’re happy with the quote, we’ll get a contract of works drawn up for you to sign and then we can get down to the bones of your project.’

‘Get down to the bones of it?’

He folded his arms in front of his chest. It was an impressive bruise he had.

‘Starting with a meeting so that we can formulate an in-depth design brief together.’

‘Together? As in …?’

‘As in, yourself and a representative of Cyan’s interiors team.’

‘Uhuh,’ he said, lolling his head again. ‘And do all the representatives of Cyan’s interiors team wear red heels? I’m just asking because, hey, I like a challenge, but I’ve seen first-hand how you get down to the bones of things around here … as in directly through your friend’s trouser leg.’ He wore an expression of nonchalance now. He found my discomfort amusing. I found his amusement … annoying.

A knock at the door and Hannah provided a welcome distraction. ‘Sorry to interrupt. Can I get anyone any coffees? Teas?’

‘Er …’ I turned back to face Rohan Bywater.

‘No thanks. I have to get going. I’ll call the office to arrange a site visit then, Miss Alwood?’ He pushed himself off the table and stood before me. ‘I’ll leave these with you?’ He nodded at the papers he’d brought.

‘Um, yes. Thank you, Mr Bywater.’ I offered my hand to conclude our unorthodox meeting.

‘Call me Rohan.’ He reached for my hand, but instead of shaking it he turned it over in his, carefully placing my silver stud on my palm. I hadn’t even seen him pick it up.

‘It’s been nice meeting you, Miss Alwood,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

I felt my naked earlobe as I watched him follow Hannah out into the office to where James was talking to the marketing team. Rohan Bywater playfully slapped James on the back, pointing to the leg I’d kicked. He laughed, his hand on James’s shoulder. James began to laugh too, all boys together. Then Bywater pulled his trouser leg up. It was hard to tell from here, it could’ve been a birthmark or a graze perhaps, but I reckoned it to be another bruise that engulfed Bywater’s knee. Whatever it was, it was large and painful-looking. James stopped laughing, outdone where I hadn’t kicked him hard enough for him to compete with the bigger boy’s injuries. James looked defeated.

Rohan Bywater put his cap back on and with a parting glance almost caught me watching. He gave James a last friendly slap, then disappeared through the studio doors.

Common assault wasn’t what I’d been aiming for, but I’d have taken a sore leg over the sickening weight of revelation. Six months. Had they been sleeping together all that time? Or could I cling pathetically to the delusion that they might’ve been building up to it with a chaste courtship? Yeah, right.

I leant against the door frame, watching James across the office, already flexing his charisma, holding court once more. I must have been mad to think that if I could just stick it here, act normal, things might have a better chance of getting back that way. It hurt just to look at him. The way I’d felt when he’d walked into the boardroom made me wonder whether or not I should just get my things now. But I’d never loved anyone except James. Anna would be contacting us at some point, and I couldn’t do any of it without him. I wasn’t even sure that I knew who I was without him.

Phil’s face bobbed round the boardroom doorway, startling me with an expectant stare.

‘What?’ I grimaced.

‘Oh, I just wanted to say, well done on the cool, Ame. You nailed it. You were cooler than cool. In fact, I think you might have just knocked The Fonz off the top spot.’