I laugh as I read his response. He’s got a cheeky side to him, all right. I like that.

As I have no plans for this coming weekend (other than recovering from Sasha’s visit and a busy week at work), I accept Matt’s offer of drinks and arrange a time and place with him. I can get my rest on Saturday and Sunday. We message back and forth, his fun side really starting to show through, and I find myself getting sucked into the banter. So much so, I only remember I’m due back in the office for a project-related meeting with ten minutes to spare.

I quickly pack away my empty plastic box and hurry back along the canal path at a more intense pace. I can feel the fringes of my fatigue starting to nag at me: that low-level, weighted-down feeling that intermittently kicks in when I push myself physically. Then, on climbing the steps of the bridge that crosses the canal from the International Conference Centre to Brindley Place, my body goes into full-blown protest. Between my busy weekend and now this, I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits.

I reach the top of the steps, respiring so heavily that I have to stop to regain my composure. My muscles are burning from the exertion. It’s like someone has poured hot lava through my body. As I’m leaning on the side of the bridge, trying to regulate my breathing, a voice comes from behind me.

‘Alex? Is that you?’

I look round, still panting, and my heart sinks. It’s Danielle. She’s with a woman I’ve never seen before.

‘Oh, hi.’ I try my best to sound relaxed. ‘Yeah, I’m good. I was just… taking a lunchtime run. Overdone it a bit.’ I feel the heat in my face, aware that I’m flushed from the overexertion. I’m hoping she’ll buy it.

Danielle raises a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Might be wise to wear running gear next time. You’ve probably overheated in those clothes.’

Her companion smirks, her expression one of cruel judgement, and I look down and realise my spontaneous excuse might not have been the most convincing. Though I changed into my trainers for the walk, I’m still wearing my grey trouser suit and black tie-neck blouse.

‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’ I laugh, my composure thankfully returning. ‘What was I thinking? Should have abandoned the run after I discovered I’d forgotten my running gear.’

‘Sure.’ Danielle’s smile is so false, she’s not even trying to hide it. ‘You know, I like running. We should go out together one lunchtime.’

I take in Danielle’s smug face, not believing for a second that she’s a runner, and decide to play her at her own game.

‘Absolutely. Let’s sort that out.’

With a flick of her hair, she struts off with her companion, the two of them whispering and giggling as they go. That’s all I need.

By three o’clock, I’m beyond exhausted and feeling somewhere around one-prod-and-I-may-actually-hit-the-deck.

‘Ready to go?’ Emmanuel pops her head over the divider between our desks.