The hairs stand up at the back of Rose’s neck. Once, she’d been walking alone down the high street, walking home from school, and she passed a man on one of the side streets. She didn’t look at him as she passed, but when she got to the corner by her turn-off two hundred yards on, she turned. He was still there, his eyes still on her. All the rest of the way home, although he had gone, she felt that the rules had changed, and she was being watched.

She feels the same now.

Over the course of the day, Rose makes some tea, looks over Rachael’s shoulder a lot, and organises a box of stuff. The box of stuff is in a cupboard. Rachael calls it the ‘crap pile’. She says people just give them stuff.

Rose sits in the cupboard sifting slowly through the box. It’s filled with fitness DVDs, celebrity biographies, chick lit, and face cream. There’s a headband with two balls on springs, one with a picture of Prince William and the other with Princess Kate. There’s a pair of knuckledusters.

Each item she examines carefully. They are new, but given away. The idea of it seems miraculous. She puts a lip gloss in her pocket.

After a while, she gives up on the box and leans back against the wall. Above her are rows of dresses, hung messily on a rail. Various odd shoes litter the floor.

Rose takes her phone out. She hasn’t looked at it since coming to the office. It’s an old phone, something Graeme found and gave her a couple of years ago. When she left for London he gave her strict instructions not to let the battery run down, so she’s kept it turned off until now.

Three new messages. One from Graeme, saying

All OK?

Another from Aaron saying

good night

And one from a new number

Hi Rose, Its Dillon, I got your number from aaron hows it going?

In the dark of the cupboard she feels the swirl of surprise blooming along the alleys of her body until it tingles at the edges of her.

At six, the office heaves in a collective sigh. Most people rise from their desks. Some stay, finishing things, but the bulk of them head to the lifts, talking, laughing.

Rose doesn’t leave with the others. She’s avoided saying any words as much as she could, today. She ate her lunch on her own in the cupboard. It wasn’t bad. It was nice, sitting there, unseen.

When there are only a few people left, Rose goes to Titch’s door. She knocks.

Titch shouts, ‘Come in!’