In the summer, Alex’s drinking had hit an unknown precedent. Bowed down with stress at work, setting up the new office in Glasgow, arguing with his partner Patrick about funding, when Alex began to drink, he often appeared unable to stop – or, at least, unwilling. When Patrick decided to pull out of the Glasgow deal, Alex asked Malcolm for a loan in a last-ditch attempt to both salvage the new office and include his father in his life. To Alex’s huge surprise and joy, Malcolm actually seemed to be considering it.

With Alex splitting his time between work, familial hang-ups and alcohol, there was little of him left for me. I’d invested everything into my relationship – but it was an investment that was no longer paying many dividends. Without even realising, I’d let my own career flounder while I’d got sidetracked; initially by trying to stop Alex’s excessive drinking, and, when that failed, by being slowly, inexorably drawn in. The old adage ‘if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em’ was like a gong sounding in my empty head.

Why do women so often feel they have to fix their men? I should have asked myself firmly. Unfortunately, though, I’d lost my self-awareness. I was heart-sick: heartily sick of trying to get Alex’s attention and failing to reach him, sick of all the nights I went to bed alone. But somehow I just got ever more entrenched in misery; until I was on a constant knife-edge. It was only a matter of time before I fell.

One morning, as I struggled to recover from a night that had culminated in Alex smashing half the crockery when I’d dared to suggest he sober up, Charlie sent a cab for me. Over lunch at The Ivy his approach was almost gentle.

‘I’m worried about you, darling.’

‘Oh yes?’ Charlie’s empathy unsettled me far more than his wrath would have done. I stared at the over-pink langoustine lying plumply on my plate, a peppercorn eye staring up at me reproachfully.

‘I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.’ Charlie eyed me over his glass a little like the crustacean was. ‘It was most remiss of me.’

‘Didn’t see what? You’re making me nervous.’

‘I can’t protect you for much longer, you know, Maggie.’

‘Protect me?’ I stared at him. ‘Are you joking? From what?’

‘Don’t be obtuse. The whole office knows something’s up, darling.’ Charlie helped himself to bread, his hand hovering over the curl of creamy butter. ‘But the minute Lyons notices you’re below your game, you’re finished. You know that.’

‘I’m not below my game.’

‘Yes you are. Utterly below it.’

‘I’ve just been – I’ve had a lot on,’ I muttered, fiddling with the langoustine’s spindly feeler.