I stand staring at myself in the mirror. It’s never an easy thing to do. Although if I force myself to be honest, I am not an unattractive woman. I’m too thin, I’m too pale. I wear my attitude like a coat of armour, it warns people away. But my hair is long, the curls are thick. From my advertising days I know that it is desirable. I have deep brown eyes and the bone structure of someone who means business. In a dress like this, I pass as good looking. With my own style. In my own way. Which, when I really break it down, I think maybe I actually quite like.

Beth

‘Boss, what is wrong with you?’

Risky’s voice is there in the background somewhere. My stare stays fixed to the window.

‘Beth? Beth? Seriously what’s going on with you today?’

She is right next to my desk now. She is looking at me like I am a child who just did an emotionally charged pee on the floor. Annoyed, but with sympathy and concern for what made me do it.

‘Sorry,’ I say, snapping out of my daze. ‘Sorry, just a lot on my mind.’

‘I know. A four-month-old and a major celebrity wedding in two days. Yeah, you’ve got a lot on. What do you need? Can I order you food? Download a podcast? Massage your feet?’

I look at her like she is joking. She isn’t.

‘Oh, nothing. I just need to get through it. OK, I’m back in the room. What did I miss?’

Risky is thinking. She likes to fix things. She is wondering how to help me survive the next few days. I am wondering the same thing.

‘I’ve got it,’ she says, clapping her hands. ‘I know what to do. Get your things, I’m taking you to the spa.’

‘The spa? No Risky, that’s a massive waste of time. We have so much to do.’

‘Yes, we do, but we can work there. There’s a warm floor you lie on, and Wifi. Come on, I am insisting.’

‘Who’s the boss here?’ I ask, not moving.

‘You are, and that is the problem. You’re not taking care of yourself. Come on, if we get there before lunch it will be quieter. Chop chop.’

She is standing over by the door now. I clearly have no choice. And maybe a foot rub from a professional would be nice.

‘What is this place?’ I ask as we arrive. It’s not like the spas I have been to before, where people walk around in towelling robes and uncomfortable slippers, sipping cucumber water and eating almonds and dried fruit while panpipe music fills the room as people wait to be called in for their overpriced treatments.

‘It’s a Korean spa,’ Risky says, confidently. ‘Heaven.’