Now I’m a receptionist at a company that puts on corporate events and parties. Is it any more exciting? I don’t think the actual work’s much different really, but it’s surely a step in the right direction. I’m surrounded by fun, creative people who get to do wonderful things and go to wonderful places. I might not be one of them, but I love to hear the stories about the lavish parties that they’ve created where budgets are unlimited, no expense spared. How I’d love to go along to one. I imagine that they’d be like Chelsea’s fortieth birthday party on steroids.

I wonder why Chelsea didn’t use my company to plan her event, but perhaps she’s forgotten where I’m working now. We don’t talk that much about my life on the rare occasions that she phones. That’s generally because I don’t have anything of any great interest to tell her. I ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ in the right places over the marvellous things that she’s done and hope that she doesn’t notice that my life is interminably tedious and small.

The front door swings open and I sit up straighter.

‘Morning, Sexy.’ That’s Blake Chadwick. He’s one of the partners here. A big-wig.

‘Right back at you,’ I say cheekily, even though I can feel myself flushing.

He laughs at that. BC, as we call him, has the most luscious mouth. He’s as fit as you like and doesn’t he know it. All the girls here are mad for him. He’s very trendy, wears suits so sharp that you could cut yourself on them and has a shaved head and a diamond stud in his ear that’s bigger than my engagement ring. He’s what my daughter Ellen would call ‘one cool dude’. But then she’s young and impressionable – whereas I’m not supposed to be.

Mind you, I hope she never brings home anyone like Blake Chadwick. He’d eat my daughter alive. Confident to the point of arrogance and beyond, he has a different woman on his arm every week, according to the girls who see him out clubbing. I’m sure he only goes out around here to further his contacts, though. The likes of Blake Chadwick would be much happier in London at clubs like Whisky Mist or Chinawhite – wherever the latest, hottest place is. BC is in his late twenties and, apparently, he’s got one daughter by a previous partner. By all accounts he doesn’t see much of her. Every night of the week there’s an event on somewhere that he’s obliged to turn up at. It must be hard being a father if you’re never around.

‘How’s it looking today, Angie?’

‘It’s looking good. And it’s Annie.’

He waves as he disappears into the offices. ‘Catch you later, Sexy.’