I heard the latest song by The Weeknd – the ringtone Louis had installed on my smartphone. It was JP. Shit. Why was my boss calling me on a Saturday morning? Of course, it had happened before; you can’t work for a company like Hégémonie without having to deal with the occasional emergency. Whenever I think about it now, whenever I hear someone say ‘emergency’, the word has a whole different meaning. Never again will I use the word to talk about a presentation that needs wrapping up, a consumer trial that has to be launched, a bottle design that has to be approved. What kind of emergency is that, exactly? Whose life is in the balance? But, at that precise moment, I didn’t see things that way. I simply wondered what emergency JP could need to discuss with me, and I had a feeling it was to do with Monday’s meeting. So, a major emergency. Vital. I answered without hesitation, barely noticing that Louis had slowed down and was standing beside me, visibly wanting to say something. I signalled to him that I was on the phone, couldn’t he see that? He mumbled into his nascent beard, muttering that it was important, I think. I gestured it was an urgent call, and now I’ll never know what he wanted to talk to me about. I’m certain that my parting thoughts before Louis sped off were negative ones. Something to do with his constant need for attention, my never having a moment to myself, his teenage selfishness, my need for a bit of space. Shit. I think the last word that formed in my mind on the subject of my little person – the baby I rocked for hours on end, the baby I sang to for hours on end, who had brought me so much laughter, pride and joy – the last word I mentally uttered in my rusty brain cells was a swear word. How shocking. What a grim memory.