I don’t know if we’ll be told where to sit, so I pick a desk in a cosy-looking corner where there is minimal neon glare. I sit down, and spin around on my chair—oooh, these are fun! Although I’m not sure the seat was always this close to the floor. As I stop spinning, a wheel falls off and I’m tipped onto the floor. Shit. The chair next to me only appears to have one wheel out of three. Will the chair beside that one be just right? As I lug it to my corner, it wobbles and rattles alarmingly, but it does not appear to be broken. Against my better judgement, I’m thinking about doing an experimental spin when I hear a ‘Hello?’

I look over my shoulder. A girl’s head is peeking around the door frame. I can see wisps of coppery brown hair flopping forward, and a bit of green and white shirt, speckled and swirled. She radiates extreme poshness, and extreme nervousness. Is she here for work experience? It seems a little bit weird to get an intern to come in on the first day.

Carefully, I get up, holding my breath until I’m certain that my new chair can survive such vigorous motion. I walk to the door beaming, palms outstretched. Poor thing. If I’m nervous, she must be terrified. If this is a cult, I can do a decent impression of cult leader before everyone else arrives.

‘Hello. Welcome! Did you find us OK? I’m Imogen, I’m the first here! No one knows what we’re doing yet, hahahahahaha. Um, er, would you like a coffee? We could go up to the kitchen, but it’s just crappy Nescafé. Or Pret? It’s early, we’ve got loads of time.’

‘I’m Louise. I’m the, um, culture and entertainment editor,’ she tells her shirt collar.

Ah.

Louise might be taller than me, but her posture is even worse than mine. There’s something about the way that her face is arranged that puts me in mind of friendly woodland creatures, and The Wind in the Willows. (I’m Louise, and I’m here today to play the Nervous Vole.)

‘Oh, God! I’m so sorry, I thought you were the…’ I cannot tell her I’d mistaken her for an intern. ‘I wasn’t sure you had the right room,’ I finish, lamely.

‘I’d love a coffee, actually,’ she pronounces it ‘uckshully’, ‘but we should probably stay in the office, just in case Harri comes? I’d hate to get into trouble on day one—I mean,’ her face is very pink now. The green shirt really brings it out. ‘Not trouble, but, best to be on the safe side, eh?’ Well, this is a surprise. I think I might be the naughty one.