After a night spent worrying and wondering about Imogen, and Mackenzie’s mysterious brochure, Harri has come to no useful conclusions. She starts the day feeling especially sad and slow. Something is off. Something is about to go wrong. But she does not suspect that Something will start with Akila, approaching her desk. ‘Harri, can I talk to you about something?’ The cadence is painfully familiar. The measured tone, the minor key. Someone is getting dumped. No, Akila, you absolutely can’t, I already know that I don’t want to hear it. ‘Sure! Absolutely. Of course.’

‘I think we should maybe do this outside the office?’ NO! Let’s stay here, where it’s safe! You wouldn’t quit on me in the office, would you?

Harri’s thoughts go unvoiced, her mouth is running operations. ‘OK, I’m free now, if you are? Soho House?’ Harri has a funny feeling that whatever Akila has to say will hurt less if she finds it out in a safe space, with table service. She does not want to get her heart broken, and then have to fetch her own coffee.

Harri is frightened further by Akila’s reluctance to talk shop on the way over. Usually she’s a font of figures, prospective glossy business, power, positivity, profile boosting. But Akila comes up with startling revelations along the lines of ‘I’m so fed up with the cold, but at least it’s getting lighter’ and ‘the clocks will be going forward before we know it!’ and the classic ‘I never feel like I’ve nailed the spring coat, you know? By the time I’ve really thought about it, and found one I like, it’s practically summer, and it seems pointless! Mind you, I’ve known it to be cold enough for a coat in June…’ Is she trying to bore me into firing her? wonders Harri, miserably.

The coffee is cooling by the time Akila comes out with it. ‘I have to hand in my notice. My contract says a month, I can make it six weeks if that would help, but…’

‘No. You can’t. We need you. I can get you more money, I’m sure I can.’