After a while though, the cold seeps in, even through my coat. The clock on the town hall chimes the half-hour: time to go back. I get up, a little stiffly, from the seat, and drop my empty sandwich carton into a bin. Back at the office, I push in through the main entrance doors, back into the warmth, and it warms me further as I quickly climb the stairs, the little bag with Emma’s KitKat swinging from my wrist.

But when I open the door to my office, I jump in surprise. There’s no sign of Emma, but Abayomi is standing right by my desk.

‘Jennifer,’ he says. ‘Do you have a moment?’

‘Yes …’ I tell him. ‘Sure.’ I set the plastic shopping bag down carefully. My desktop looks unusually dishevelled. Not ordered in the way I normally like. Did I really leave it like that before lunch?

I reach out to tidy up, clearing space for us, but instead Abayomi says, ‘Will you come along to my office?’

I stop. ‘Of course. I mean, just one sec.’

I pull Emma’s chocolate bar out of the bag and put it on her desk along with her two-pound coin and a little Post-it note for her. It hardly cost anything, I write, don’t worry. And then quickly, at the bottom, I add a little x.

Then I follow Abayomi to his room. He closes the door behind us and asks me to sit down. Instinctively, I realize I don’t want to. But Abayomi sits and so I have to do the same. I find myself holding on tightly to the arms of the chair.

‘Jenn, I apologize in advance for this. It’s a little difficult to say, to be honest.’

I look at him without replying. My mind has suddenly gone quite blank, like switching off a TV screen. I’m just waiting for what comes next.

His words come at me with a sort of echo in them, distorted in my ears.

‘I need to ask you to take some time off. A few days maybe. A couple of weeks at most.’

I stare at him. ‘Why?’ My voice comes out barely above a whisper and I can’t get the cheerful tone to come.

‘There’s going to be a bit of scrutiny on us,’ he says. ‘From higher up. I think it would be easiest if you were out of the office for a bit.’

‘You’re suspending me?’

Abayomi removes his glasses and rubs the divots in the corners of his eyes. ‘No … No. We can call it a leave of absence.’

‘So … pretend I’m off sick or something?’ I can feel myself clutching for some kind of resistance, as though there’s a way to stop the slide.

‘There won’t be any interruption in your pay.’