Outside, on the main staircase, there’s the clatter of feet on the laminate flooring and snippets of voices: other people from other offices arriving for their own jobs on other floors, co-workers I rarely see and almost never interact with. Emma pushes herself back from her desk, and drains the last mouthful of tea from her mug. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Well, I’m off out – electrician at Trinity Court.’ She leaves her desk covered with bits of paper and open files; it’s always like that, even over the weekend. I have to fight the urge to tidy. I feel a little more at ease once she’s gone. It’s harder when she’s here; I feel more conscious of how I speak, how I look, keeping up the good impression. I suppose I should be able to let my guard down by now, and maybe I would if she and I were closer. We’re a similar age so there’s no real reason we shouldn’t be friends; she’s worked here with me for six months at least. It just isn’t like that though.

I look again at my notes for today, unable this time to ignore the unpleasant task that I tried not to think about all weekend, ever since I booked the bailiffs last week. I flip through the folders in my drawer and find the right file, then pull the corresponding notes up on the computer. I triple-check to make absolutely sure there isn’t a step we’ve missed, a reason to allow just a little more leeway, but there isn’t. So I’ll just have to go ahead.

It isn’t an unusual occurrence, a tenant falling behind with their rent or some other payment. We get such a mix of people in the block. I push my chair back over the scuffed carpet – a faded shade of green – and head through to where my boss Abayomi sits next door. I heard him talking on the phone when I came in, his low voice with its rolling accent floating into the corridor.

Now I knock neatly on his half-open door. My door is always open, he tells us. He looks up from his desk, with its usual collection of used coffee mugs, his face so open, so non-judgemental that it’s almost expressionless.

‘Morning, Jenn.’ His cheeks lever upwards as he smiles. ‘All set for the day?’

I’ve always liked that about him. We don’t talk about emotional or personal topics; we stay focused on the work and the tasks at hand. He is very practical, very pragmatic. I wouldn’t like to have a boss who was always asking how I am, wanting to get to know about me outside of work, always considering the ways I might feel. Abayomi keeps things simple. Tight and professional. It feels much safer to me that way.