After the big meeting, Faith had to rush back to her office. She breezily mentioned something about taking a three-month sabbatical so she could do Eat Me with me, that it sounded like it might be a hoot, though after the meeting ended abruptly when the executives called time, neither of us are entirely sure what she may have landed us into. We have to wait until Timothy’s professional agent gets in touch with the new contract. In any event, I was less inclined to kick up my heels and celebrate. Wine, copious amounts of wine, seemed the solution.

We started at the pub, about thirty of us from work. Tuesday night – I didn’t plan on staying out. What happened was I didn’t want to come home.

Steadying my feet on the pavement in my Jimmy Choo shoes – so much for not kicking up my heels – I wave the driver on.

I put my mobile back to my ear. ‘Faith, I fell out of the cab.’

‘You’re home?’

‘Almost!’

At the stairs leading up to my front door, I grip the handrail for stability.

One step, two steps… a small trip and a few more staggers and I’m onto the landing. Now, keys? Keys? Where are you, keys?

Tucking my phone beneath my chin, I search inside my bag. My mobile crashes to the tiles. Shhhhhiiiit. Picking it up, I’m relieved it’s intact. Faith is still on the line.

‘Gracie, you okay?’

I’m acutely aware it’s only a very best friend who would put up with me being this annoyingly intoxicated, this late at night, this early in the week. Having wrapped the deal at her work, Faith was sleeping soundly when I called and woke her up to chat. For my entire cab ride home from Soho to Maida Vale, she listened patiently as I repeated myself down the line.

I find my keys and enter the building and then my flat.

‘Gracie, are you home?’

‘Sort of. Yes. I’m in.’

Tripping through the doorway, I hope I don’t wake Jordan.

‘Faith, you love me no matter what, don’t you?’ I say.

‘Evidently, I do.’

Inside my head, words are beginning to slur before they make it to my mouth. I’m struggling to speak.

‘I don’t think Jordan does. Not any more. He wouldn’t talk to me in the cupboard. Too busy to talk.’

Because Faith had to rush off, we didn’t discuss my problems with Jordan after the meeting. But that wasn’t because Faith doesn’t love me.

In the darkness, I bang into the handle of the coat closet. I stop to rub my hip – this will hurt me tomorrow! I flick on the hallway light.

My eyes blink against the sudden brightness. Reaching out to steady myself, I slide my body down the wall, dropping safely on the floor.