‘Look, the truth is, I came in early because I wanted to speak to you anyway. I had a meeting with Julia, and she’s concerned that we don’t have enough in reserves and thinks we need to cut our costs a little. To be honest, it’s becoming obvious that our last treasurer really wasn’t up to speed on everything and hasn’t been giving the board the best advice.’ She sighed. ‘The upshot is, Julia has recommended we get more of the volunteers involved around the place. So that would make the manager’s job a smaller role. And when we looked at it like that, we think we might actually only need part-time hours.’

Sara’s heart gave a stutter, her eyes studying Fiona’s face. ‘You’re reducing my hours?’

Fiona gave a little grimace. ‘Actually… I’m afraid Julia thinks we should let you go.’

‘What do you mean, let me go?’ Fiona had Sara’s full attention now, because she knew exactly what she meant, she just didn’t want to believe it.

‘This isn’t me. This is the treasurer and the board.’ Fiona’s eyes glistened, her voice full of regret. ‘I know this job’s important to you, but my hands are absolutely tied, I’m afraid.’ She looked at the floor for a moment, gathering her thoughts. ‘To be honest, though, I do feel there’s a bit of a conflict of interest with you and James being so close these days.’ She pulled a face, like she’d eaten something sour. ‘Look, I really don’t want to be covering for you. I hated having to lie to Matt when you were out with James. Poor man is such a brilliant dad, so dedicated to his kids. I despised myself, I really did.’ She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, clearly uncomfortable. Sara tensed, waiting for the punchline. ‘The thing is, James has a permanent contract and has already negotiated a reduction in hours. Yours is temporary and I know we said we’d extend it until September, but we never formalised that, did we?’ She gave Sara an apologetic smile. ‘Julia has insisted, and given her expertise, we can’t ignore her advice. I’ve rung round the rest of the board and I’m afraid they all agree.’

‘You’re sacking me?’ Sara’s voice rose an octave, her disbelief squeezing her vocal cords. She put a hand to her throat.

‘No,’ Fiona said with forced patience. ‘We’re not renewing your temporary contract.’

‘Oh my God! You said you were happy with my work. Didn’t we talk about a permanent position?’