The focus of her dreams had changed, and she’d decided she’d like to do a course that was more about people and less about making money. Also, if she studied with the Open University, it would be more affordable and less intense; a better fit with family life. She’d checked the cost and it wasn’t too expensive. With the interest on her investment accumulating, she’d thought she’d have enough to cover the first instalment and had quietly started planning a January start. Now, though, with their household finances tipped into the danger zone, she would have to shelve the dreams and concentrate on the fight for survival.

She hurried to the car, still thoroughly annoyed with herself. How could I have been so stupid? Why didn’t I just leave the damned money in the deposit account? She got in and slammed the door, started the engine. The truth was, she’d never been good at doing what she was told; ‘naturally contrary’, Hailey had always called her. At least living with Matt had tempered that impulse, made her a bit more sensible. Until this. She chewed at her bottom lip as she drove, thinking through the things she wanted to say at the meeting. Her sales pitch.

She arrived to find the centre unlocked, which was unusual as she was always first to arrive, opening the place up being part of her job. She went into the kitchen to put on the water heater for drinks, but it had already been done and was up to full steam. Whoever had got there first had been there a little while. She did a quick tour round and found Fiona and James in a meeting room on the upper floor. They were sitting at the far end of the long rectangular table, deep in conversation. Fiona was in full flow, animated, James frowning as he listened.

James was a bit older than Sara. Probably mid forties, his hair already silver, contrasting nicely with his tanned skin. He was a tidy man, always well turned out in chinos and a shirt, nothing too casual, his hair kept short and combed back from his long face, his beard neatly trimmed. The most remarkable thing about him was his voice, a deep bass that seemed to make the air vibrate, and would be perfect for doing voice-overs for movie trailers.

She stopped outside the door, reluctant to disturb them, watching for a moment through the glass panel. Are they talking about me? she wondered, desperate to know what was being said but unable to hear anything through the thick fire door. As she studied their faces, trying to work out what was going on, Fiona glanced at the door and her expression froze. She put a hand on James’s arm just as he’d started talking and he turned and looked at the door too.

I hope they don’t think I was eavesdropping.