Tara was almost positive she was doing it to scare her as much as the birds. There was always a bit of side eye involved afterwards.

Sybil’s dramatics felt rather ungrateful to Tara, since she’d splashed out on a complete vaccination and microchipping appointment at the vet’s, at the end of which she was presented with a record card in the name of Sybil Hunter. It made Tara feel as if she’d adopted a game septuagenarian line dancer, not a cat, but as she carried Sybil’s basket back to the car on Monday morning, she tried to tell herself there was a faint glow of appreciation emanating from the depths of the wicker shell.

Microchipping was a step further than Phil had ever bothered to go for his beloved pet, she now knew. As the vet nurse had scanned Sybil’s back for signs of an existing chip, Tara had experienced a shameful flicker of hope that there would be a beep – and a reason to contact Phil from the moral high ground, to let him know she’d be changing Sybil’s details. Tara had no idea whether Phil worried about Sybil, or her, since she’d blocked him on every single channel of communication more to protect herself from late-night texting than anything else.

Tara had come to terms with the fact that Phil had decided to do the decent thing, and stick with his not-wife, Zoe. It had now been three weeks since their IKEA break-up and so far there’d been no avalanche of roses to the office, no planes trailing banners reading ‘I’ve Been a Dick, Tara, Please Forgive Me’ over the skies of Longhampton. Tara knew she was being ridiculous, but a tiny part of her couldn’t believe that was it. It felt as if she’d been forced to leave a predictable film ten minutes before the end: she knew how it would play out, but there was still the minuscule chance of a twist.

It did occur to her, as David sat stroking Sybil in her office later that morning, that she could go direct to the horse’s – cat’s – mouth and see if Sybil had some hotline into Phil’s shady brain, but she wasn’t sure how that conversation would start.

David was filling in ten minutes before heading down to the Lunch and Learn meeting, today starring Douglas the osteopath and his step-by-step guide to creating a spine-friendly work space. Neither Tara nor David was looking forward to it much: Douglas was waging a one-man campaign against laptops which, as Emily pointed out, was a bit like Father Christmas sounding off about Amazon, given that his entire client base suffered from Laptop Hunch.

David’s face visibly lit up on spotting Sybil’s basket by the window and she’d seemed pleased to see him, rubbing her head against his chin and flicking her long tail around with enthusiasm.