I may not be doing jury duty this time—I may be taking the time to save my daughter’s life—but what Mr Sullivan doesn’t know is that I’ve done it before. I’ve never turned it down. I did a week’s worth of it two years ago, and it was, as a working single mother, a gigantic pain in the arse to juggle it. But I did it, because I believe that every person in the UK has the right to be tried before a jury of their peers. My sense of being inconvenienced, and Brendan’s, should come a distant second to that.

‘That’s a terrible attitude. Having everyone pull their weight is part of our democratic process. Besides, I like to think I’d add something to the process. We need our juries to be a good mix of professions and intellects and emotional intelligence.’ I clear my throat. ‘So I’m not interested in trying to wriggle out of my duty. I’m genuinely sorry to have to take leave so early on in this role. But I’ll speak to Elaine later, and I mean it when I say I’ll pick up as much of the slack as I can out of hours.’

‘Shit!’ he says suddenly. ‘You’ll miss the summit. I was counting on having you there.’

I grimace. I know what a big deal this summit is for Brendan and the management team as a whole, and I hate that I’ll be AWOL. At the very least, I suspect he could do with a cheeky blow job to take the edge off before he goes on stage to deliver his address.

‘I know, and I’m so, so sorry. I really am. But I’m going to include Elaine on all the handover stuff from here on in. It seems like the strategy team is planning on doing the whole presentation, and Elaine seems to be a font of knowledge about the event.’ It’s true. Apparently she’s managed the firm’s appearances at all the previous summits, which I believe have been dotted around Europe.

He gives me a death stare and picks up his phone again. ‘Fucking idealistic bullshit. This had better not affect me or mess up the summit in any way. Just because you’re a fantastic lay doesn’t mean you’re indispensable, you know.’

What a gigantic wanker. The hurt slices through me like a jagged knife. It’s not that I expect the guy to fall in love with me, but to put me in a position like the one back there and then to dismiss me out of hand is disgustingly obnoxious. By focusing solely on his own needs, he’s made me feel cheap. Disposable. Dispensable.

When people show you who they really are, you should take heed.