Veronica couldn’t argue, she was having her own four walls built into the back of the office, complete with a state-of-the-art air-filtration system so she could smoke away to her heart’s content. I did remind her it wasn’t technically legal to smoke in a workplace but she simply reminded me there wasn’t technically a workplace at all without her investment and so we came to a silent agreement.

The glazier was finishing up on our glass door, polishing up the sign as I popped my last pencil in its pencil pot.

‘What is it you do here, anyhow?’ he asked, giving the BroadCast logo a last rub with the sleeve of his boiler suit.

‘We’re a podcast network,’ I said proudly. ‘We make podcasts.’

‘Any of them about serial killers?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Not yet,’ I said, shaking my head apologetically. ‘But give it time.’

‘Hasn’t been a good serial killer in ages,’ the man lamented. ‘You should do one about Shipman. I’d have known right away if he’d been my GP. Shifty fucker, that one, you could see it in his eyes.’

‘Are you all done with the door?’ I asked, very keen to be talking about literally anything else.

‘Yeah, I’ll wash my hands and be out your way,’ he nodded, taking his mucky boiler suit and filthy mitts into the bathroom I had just stocked with brand-new white hand towels.

Looking around the office, I felt a surge of pride. Once Veronica and I were in agreement, things had moved quickly. Luckily, she knew a teenager who knew a man who got all the online end of things organized – our website, our domain names, our social media handles – and I got in touch with a few friends who I thought might be interested in working with us. It turned out, I was right. They all jumped at the chance to have their voices heard and now, just a few weeks later, we were a real company, moving into real offices with desks and chairs, white walls, lots of windows and a positively gorgeous all-glass recording studio. We already had show sponsors, I’d hired someone to sell advertising, we had a marketing person starting on Monday. I couldn’t quite believe it.

‘Where do you want this?’

A giant succulent pushed through the door with a six-foot-four man attached.

‘Just down by the wall?’ I said, grinning as John lowered my plant carefully to the ground. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s looking good!’