I jolt upright and start tapping keys.

‘And what’s that, a new hairdo?’ Tessa is a big, shouty lady with high blood pressure and red cheeks. Her brown hair is wiry and cut into a slightly wonky bob. She wears a lot of polyester.

‘I’ve just tied it back, that’s all,’ I say, pulling my curly black hair tighter in its hairband. ‘I’m not really a new hairdo sort of person.’

I’ve had the same hair since I was eight years old – long and curly, sometimes up, sometimes down. No layers. Just long.

‘I might have known. Yes, you’re very, very sensible, aren’t you?’

This is a dig at me, but I don’t mind because Tessa is absolutely right. I wear plain, functional trouser suits and no makeup. My glasses are from the twenty-pound range at Specsavers. I’ve never signed up for monthly contact lenses – I’d rather put money in my savings account.

‘I’m glad you’re in early anyway,’ Tessa continues. ‘There is a lot to do this week.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘Leanne Neilson is in hospital again. Gary and I were up until nine on Friday trying to get her boys into bed. I just need time to get going.’

Gary is a family support worker and absolutely should have finished at 5 p.m. So should I, actually. But two out-of-hours team members were off sick and we were swamped.

Tessa inserts a cappuccino tablet into her Nespresso machine. ‘So you were babysitting the three Neilson scallywags?’ She gives a snort of laughter. ‘They’re like child versions of the Gallagher brothers, those boys. All that black hair, fighting all the time. You never know – maybe they’ll be famous musicians. But you shouldn’t have been putting them to bed. You should be in the pub of an evening, like a normal twenty-something.’

It’s a bone of contention between us – the fact I rarely drink alcohol. Also, that I married at twenty years old and go to church twice a week.

‘Jesus drank, didn’t he?’ Tessa continues. ‘I thought it would be okay for you lot.’

‘Us lot?’

‘You young churchy types. You’ll be drinking soon,’ Tessa predicts. ‘Just you wait. You’re new to this, but everyone ends up on the lunchtime wine eventually. Now listen – have you done the home visit for that transfer case yet? From Hammersmith and Fulham, Tom Kinnock? The one with the angry dad.’

‘No. I sent a letter on Friday. She’ll get it today.’

‘Get on to that one as soon as you can, Kate. The transfer was weeks late. There’ll already be some catching up to do. Have they got him a school place?’

‘Yes. At Steelfield School.’

‘I bet the headmaster is furious,’ laughs Tessa. ‘“More social services children thrust upon us … we already have the Neilson boys to deal with.”’