Robyn wiped down the table and then twisted the wedding ring on her finger, round and round, as she wondered what, if anything, she should do. Hurt pride, her mum had said the other day – and John was hurting, that much was obvious. Maybe it was hard for him to go cap in hand and ask how much he would be given in the redundancy package. So why didn’t she do that for him, spare him the indignity? At least it would be a start, she figured.

Feeling pleased with her own thoughtfulness, she grabbed her phone – no time like the present – and dialled the number of Gabrielle, John’s secretary. Former secretary, rather. Gabrielle had worked in the department for years and knew everything. She was trustworthy, efficient and organized, with her calm manner and that steady gaze behind small steel-rimmed spectacles. If anyone could advise Robyn on departmental workings, it was this woman.

‘Good afternoon, Gabrielle Patterson speaking, how may I help you?’ came her reassuring tones over the audible patter of typing. Robyn could picture her sitting there in her neat shift-dress at the reception desk, earpiece and microphone in place, and instantly felt better.

‘Hi! Gabby, it’s Robyn Mortimer here,’ she said thankfully. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh!’ said Gabrielle. The peck-peck of typing stopped. ‘Er . . . hi. How can I help you?’

‘It’s about John,’ Robyn said, feeling a surge of matrimonial loyalty for poor, wounded John. ‘About him losing his job.’

There was a delicate pause. ‘Ahh,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Yes?’

Was it Robyn’s imagination or did she sound uncharacteristically flustered? Usually she was brisk and businesslike, all ‘No problem’ and ‘Leave that with me’. Robyn ploughed on regardless. ‘I gather the redundancy package hasn’t been announced yet and – look, he’d kill me for phoning up like this, but the thing is, Gabby, we really need to know what John’s actually going to get, financially, because—’

‘Um,’ said Gabrielle awkwardly. ‘Can I just stop you there?’ She cleared her throat, before adding in an apologetic sort of way, ‘I think there must have been a misunderstanding.’

‘A misunderstanding?’ Robyn’s heart swelled with immediate hope. Oh my God! Maybe John had got the wrong end of the stick. Had she been panicking over nothing? ‘Do you mean . . . ?’

Gabrielle sounded agonized. ‘I mean . . . Well, there haven’t actually been any redundancies in the department.’

Robyn felt confused. ‘Oh,’ she said, frowning. ‘So what are you saying? He’s still got a job? I don’t understand.’ This was good news, surely. So why was Gabby sounding so cagey and weird?

‘Um,’ said Gabrielle again. ‘Look, I’m not sure I should really be having this conversation with—’