She clears her throat and sits up straighter. “Take the time to slow down, Trish,” she says, her voice now firm. “Your position will be kept for the requisite six months’ maternity leave. If you don’t come back, I’ll advertise for someone else.”

It’s clear she wants me gone so she can be left alone with her pain.

I get to my feet. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Tash,” I say to her bowed head. “I’ll make sure I’ve got everything in order before I leave.”

She nods without looking up and I return to my desk. All of my anger has gone, replaced by sadness. Now, I understand Tash’s relentless drive and commitment to work, along with her ability to be a complete bitch. I can also see how my pregnancy would have brought the loss of her newborn back into focus.

Tash is right: work needs to take a back seat. What’s wrong with allowing myself to slow down and enjoy the last few weeks of pregnancy? I wonder if there might be another reason Tash wants me gone from the office. It must be hard seeing me at work every day – for my stomach to be a constant reminder of the little boy she lost.

*

“I could get used to this.” I lean back in my deckchair and enjoy the warmth of the sun on the skin of my exposed belly.

Emma sits beside me, her protruding white stomach also proudly on display. She came around with a container of freshly baked ginger slices (of which I’ve already devoured two) and a surprise present of two blue-and-green striped deckchairs. She spied them in her parents’ garage when she was picking up her baby car seat that had been in storage. Her parents agreed they’d be a good addition to my back garden.

I loved them instantly and we thought it our duty to try to them out.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed,” says Emma. “Being unemployed suits you.”

I know she’s teasing me, but just hearing the word “unemployed” makes me cringe and it’s only been a day since I left work. Word got around, somehow, and though I was planning to slip away at five o’clock and simply not return, the rest of the office suddenly converged on my desk with flowers and a card. They wanted me to go to the pub for a drink, but I politely declined, citing pregnancy exhaustion as my foolproof excuse. I’m sure they were secretly relieved.

But this morning I woke up with the most wonderful sense of peace. It’s been years since I haven’t had work dominating my life. Now, I seem to have a big expanse of extra air and space that I’m able to fill up on.