Oh god, Steve. On the desk in his office. With Lucia from accounting. That’s why I’d broken out the emergency Prosecco. And then the emergency emergency Prosecco. That bare bum thrusting in amongst the spreadsheets was enough to drive anyone to drink. I’d never seen it from that angle before. There in all its spotty, hairy glory. And all that grunting. Did he ever grunt like that with me? I’d always thought it was sexy, but when you walk into your boss’s office and find him humping your colleague on the desk, it sounds more along the lines of ‘stuck pig’. Which, conveniently, is exactly the way I described Steve yesterday, with a few choice swear words thrown in for good measure, as I clambered onto a filing cabinet and announced to the whole office what had been going on, quit my job, and stormed out with a satisfying door slam. I’d then sat in the fire escape stairwell and let the tears fall, hurt and annoyed at myself for trusting him. I hadn’t, at first. I knew he flirted with everyone and didn’t really believe he liked me, but he was so charming, so believable, and I’d let myself be taken in. Why did I ever think it would be a good idea to get into a relationship with my boss? Why did I ignore the rumours that circulated the office about him? Why did I drink three bottles of Prosecco last night? Why … wait, why does that email say ‘receipt for your payment’? I must’ve gone on eBay and bought another pair of shoes that look pretty but, in retrospect, were obviously designed for women much younger than me and with much slimmer feet and more attractive legs than mine, who also possess some ability to walk in heels, which I do not.

I squint and move closer to the screen. That email’s from an estate agent. Scottish Pine Properties. I recognise the name because I’ve been daydreaming about their listing for a Christmas tree farm all week …

I sit bolt upright, ignoring the spinning room and thumping head as I click on the email.

I didn’t … did I?

Dear Miss Griffiths,

I’m pleased to congratulate you on your purchase of Peppermint Branches Christmas Tree Farm. Thank you for your fast payment. I look forward to meeting with you to show you around your new property and hand over the keys. Please give my office a ring at your earliest convenience to arrange a meeting.

I did, didn’t I?

It suddenly comes back in a flood. Oh god, what have I done? Why did I think looking at the online auction for a Christmas tree farm that I’ve been fantasising about since the first moment I saw it was a good idea after so much Prosecco?