Tom keeps telling me they haven’t sacked me, and that there’s a good chance they might not, but I think I’m pretty certain to lose my job either way. I didn’t buy Sue’s talk about wanting to give them some space so she could talk the other directors and Matilda around to her way of thinking. The more I mull it over in my mind, the more I’ve come to the conclusion that this is their way of ensuring this is still ongoing when the time comes to announce their first round of redundancies. Then they can let me go by making me redundant, effectively firing me without having to actually have me go through the ignominy of a disciplinary procedure or having it on my record. It won’t make it much easier for me to get another job, though, and in any case I reckon I’d have to find something within about a week in order to avoid defaulting on payments.

I mentioned to Tom that perhaps I should start looking for new jobs now, in an attempt to have something lined up. It seemed like a sensible idea to me, but he said I should focus on having some time to myself and getting my mind straight before rushing into anything. I’d have much more chance of being successful if I’d recharged my batteries first, he said. Best to get Nan’s funeral, Cath’s wedding and everything else out of the way first.

As I’m making breakfast, a text comes through to my phone from Mum.

Are you at work today? x

I sigh as I tap out my response. Ordinarily, I should be at work. But it’s easier to tell a little white lie.

No, working from home today. Why’s that? x

I butter my toast and sit down at the table, then another message from Mum pops up.

Just wondered if we could pop in. Mid morning maybe? x

I look at the clock on the wall. It’s almost ten o’clock anyway, so they’re hardly giving me much notice.

Should be fine. Give me half an hour or so to finish off what I’m doing if poss? x

Sure x, comes the reply.

I scoff breakfast, jump in the shower and try to make myself look presentable. A moment before they arrive, I flip open my laptop and bring up a couple of random spreadsheets, then spread my notebook and pen next to it, so it looks like they’ve caught me in the middle of something important. Might as well keep up appearances.

When they arrive, I offer them both a cup of coffee. Tom and I don’t drink coffee, and we only bother with it when Mum and Dad come over. Mum tells me they’re only passing through, though, so no coffee today.

‘Tom at work?’ Dad says.

‘Yeah, he is. He’s got meetings and all sorts.’

‘We wanted to ask you something, actually,’ Mum says, changing the subject. ‘It’s a little delicate, so we hope you don’t mind.’