From his face, I can tell he’s just realised the possible connotations of his remark.

‘I can see the compliment in that, don’t worry,’ I reassure him. ‘And it’s been a team effort, all right? There would be no plan if it weren’t for the hard work you all put in.’

My team members all beam as I say this, pleased to have their efforts recognised. That is, all of them except Danielle, who I catch subtly rolling her eyes. I’m not the only one to clock this; Emmanuel does too.

‘Well done to you all.’ She looks at each of us meaningfully in turn. ‘But especially well done to Alex, who hasn’t just grabbed the bull by the horns, she’s hurled it right in the direction we need to land.’

Somewhat uncomfortable receiving this level of praise in front of my team, I quickly change the subject. ‘Right, I’m pretty sure someone said the word pub. What are we waiting for? Let’s go.’

We finish packing up our things and make our way out of the building. Although I’m feeling exuberant about the great progress we’ve made, as well as excited to be having my first ever Friday drinks session with my new workmates, I feel myself flagging a little. The newness of the job is still taking its toll. But once we’re outside, I breathe in the warmish September air, absorbing the buzz that Friday has injected into the workers of Brindley Place, and I’m determined to push through.

How much my life has changed in just a few weeks. From the claustrophobic, limited state it had reached back in Glasgow, to the complete reinvention of myself here in Birmingham. Nobody here knows of my illness and I can plan for every situation, adapting the way I go about my life to fit with my medical needs without interference from my family or Sasha. I have, in preparation for this evening (and in true project manager style), already thought through how I’ll handle it.

We make our way across the plaza, chatting in that adrenaline-fuelled ‘Friday feeling’ kind of way. Aware that I’m still the newbie and careful not to step on any toes, I stick firmly to the role of participant, rather than driving the banter. Dhruv, it turns out, is resident joker on the team. We’re laughing helplessly at his re-enactment of a recent interaction with his mother – who doesn’t speak much English – when suddenly it’s like my foot seems to malfunction and I fall heavily onto the steps by the plaza’s fountain. I go down hard and a shooting pain rushes through me as my knee collides with the sharp edge of the step. It takes everything I have not to cry out in agony.

‘Alex. Shit. Are you OK?’ Dhruv doubles back and rushes to my aid, closely followed by Emmanuel.

‘I’m… yeah… oh, that was sore.’ I’m now sitting on the step, holding my injured knee, my face burning with embarrassment.