My colleagues are leaving on Friday and it’s now Wednesday lunchtime. There’s a final meeting in the boardroom so that they can all discuss their last-minute preparations, and they asked me to supply the sandwiches for it. I glance at my watch. It’s just before one and that’s when the gathering starts, so I need to go through and set them out now.

Picking up my heavy basket, I make my way through to the boardroom. It’s all in darkness in here and I mutter to myself, fumbling for the light switch.

When the light goes on, a cry goes up and I nearly jump out of my skin, then stand there blinking like a rabbit caught in the headlights. All my colleagues are already gathered together and they’re clapping and cheering and I’m sure it’s not just because of the quality of my sandwiches.

‘What?’ I say in a manner that I’m sure sounds much more intelligent than it appears.

Blake Chadwick steps forward, all smiles, and my weak and impressionable heart flutters way too readily. He takes up a place next to me and then grins round at all the staff, who are clearly in on the joke.

I put down my basket of sandwiches and stand waiting for the punchline.

‘We couldn’t leave you behind, Annie,’ Blake states. ‘So, the company has bought your ticket.’ He holds out a ticket to me, but my shaking hands won’t move.

Seeing this, BC takes my fingers and folds them round the ticket.

‘We couldn’t have you missing out. When we get back, we’ll all help you to raise the money for Dream Days.’

Everyone cheers again.

‘I can’t,’ I say, trembling. ‘I can’t.’

‘You can,’ Blake says. ‘There’s nothing to stop you now.’

‘But it’s the day after tomorrow. I don’t have time to get anything ready.’

‘That’s why we’re giving you the afternoon off after the meeting as well so that you can go and get yourself kitted out. Minny’s going to look after reception.’

My little friend grins at me.

I feel like passing out. ‘I need to sit down.’

‘Do it now,’ someone shouts. ‘There’ll be no sitting down in the Andes.’

Then there’s more cheering and everyone crowds round me and my back is slapped and my cheeks are kissed and my newly mended foot is trampled but, thankfully, suffers no ill-effects, and tears are rolling down my face.

I look at the ticket in my hand. London to Lima. Passenger – one Mrs Annie Ashton – bored wife and armchair adventurer, is on her way.

‘Thank you,’ I sob. ‘Thank you so much.’ I punch the air. Then we all do the same like the bloody musketeers!

‘To Peru!’ is the cry.