Removing the grey beret Tom had bought her the previous Christmas, she reached into her bag and pulled out a brush. It had belonged to her mother, and her mother before that; the soft tufts of horsehair had rubbed away in parts over time, and the smooth curve of the handle urged her to hold it tight. By the time her mum had died in her early fifties, struck by the same cancer that had taken her own mother around the same age, Valentina had barely a grey hair on her head. Gabriela’s own wavy locks were still the same colour they had always been, though the texture had coarsened since she’d had the children, as if bolstering itself against the implications of motherhood.

For a moment she considered her reflection. Despite having recently hit her thirties, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose gave her a child-like quality. Her relative youth was something that both served and blighted her, not least in the diplomatic quarter where disarmament could be one’s greatest asset. What at first drew in men like Emsworth, attracted by the vivacity and apparent malleability of inexperience, emboldened them to belittle and reject in that distinct way that men had with young women, without thinking twice. Without believing there would be any consequences at all.

Serena was already in the office, fresh-faced and straight from the gym, when Gabriela arrived. She smiled across at her as she settled at her desk. ‘Bad journey?’

Gabriela bristled, annoyed at how easily Serena read her mood, but she managed a smile.

‘No, just cold. I’m going to get another coffee, want one?’

‘Not for me,’ Serena waved her hand. ‘I’ve got a meeting at nine-thirty.’

‘You’re not coming to the briefing?’

Serena frowned. ‘That was cancelled, didn’t you get the email?’

Gabriela paused. ‘What? No, when?’

‘On Friday evening – I’m sure you must have been …’

She scrolled through her emails and then clicked open the message, hovering over the recipients before pulling a confused expression. ‘You’re not in CC, you must have slipped off.’

Gabriela nodded, working hard to seem unconcerned, despite the feeling of unease working its way up her back, like an unseen hand.

‘Yes, that must be it.’

It was midday when Emsworth finally surfaced. Feeling emboldened, Gabriela gave him a minute to settle at his desk before she made a beeline for his office, striding straight past Lauren who raised her hand.

‘Sorry, do you need something?’

‘I just need to see Emsworth,’ she replied, her fingers already rapping against the wood.

Walking in as soon as she heard his voice, she noted the annoyance in his face. For someone with a hypothetical open-door policy he appeared remarkably surprised to see someone walk through it.

‘Gabriela. How can I help?’