‘That’s being disrespectful, and as if that weren’t bad enough you are bringing the company into disrepute,’ Heather says, leaning towards me as if being empathetic rather than dealing me a death blow. ‘As I’m sure you know, that is an offence that results in immediate dismissal, and you should think yourself lucky that Tim isn’t going to sue you for defamation of character.’

I barely listen as they talk through the details of when and how I must leave. I want to shout out a denial, but I’ve already told them it wasn’t me and I have no way to prove my innocence. I know I won’t be allowed to work out my notice, and I’m not going to be able to say goodbye to the rest of the team. I thought they were my friends, but from their behaviour this morning maybe I was wrong. Or perhaps they’re just scared of the repercussions. I want to go out there and deny it all to them too, but they won’t believe me because it seems like the only possible truth.

A million thoughts flood my mind. I’m not going to be able to pay the mortgage, let alone afford to move out of the house while I find a way to get rid of Ian. I thought my life was a mess when I arrived at work this morning, but now it’s ten times worse.

I walk back through the office towards the main door. The phones continue to ring, my colleagues take the calls, tap on their keyboards, sip from their coffee cups, shuffle papers on their desks. And not one of them looks up.

CHAPTER 18

18

After I leave the silent office I’m not sure what to do, but I’m not ready to go home to face Ian. I walk aimlessly along the street until I find myself in Saint Peter’s Square, where I park myself on a bench. It’s freezing, and I pull my coat tightly across my chest and huddle on the seat, pretending to watch the world go by but actually seeing nothing. Everyone has their head down into the wind, racing towards somewhere, someone. I’m alone on the bench.

I try to tie in the date of the Facebook post with my trip, to decide which day it was and what I was doing, and it comes as no surprise when I realise it was the night Ian called with the lie that my mother had died. Surely he didn’t hack into my account somehow and post those words? Maybe he didn’t need to hack in. I can’t remember if I logged out of Facebook on our home computer the last time I used it. I should have thought about that and told Tim and Heather. But I doubt they would have believed me.