‘You’ll get on just fine. She’s having an office day today and she’s asked whether you’re available for a meeting, which you aren’t because I checked the team calendar.’ Christ, where is this going? ‘But I’ve shifted your meeting with Nicola to Xander’s diary so you can pop along this afternoon and talk to her about a few things. Now, I can see your face and I want to reassure you from the off that it’s nothing to worry about.’ She reached across and patted my hand. ‘The opposite, I’d say. Half past two suit you?’ She didn’t wait for an answer before thanking me and hurrying out at the same speed she’d miraculously appeared at.

I turned back to the window. I sipped again. Great, another thing to worry about …

*

The front of Lucille’s office was floor-to-ceiling glass, allowing everyone to see her daily goings-on. She was on the phone when I got there, so I lingered awkwardly outside and waited to be ushered in. In the seconds that ticked by, I found myself stealing hooded glances at her. I’d only ever seen her through a pixelated image, on her LinkedIn profile and our company’s website. But neither of those had done her justice. She was gorgeous. Not Fred-gorgeous, either, but intimidating-gorgeous. She wore a pale blue suit with a white blouse underneath, and high heels that implied she wouldn’t be going far from her desk. Her hair was a platinum that’s impossible to maintain – unless you’ve got the time and money for it – and it was cut in an angular bob, longer at the front than the back. Straightened to within an inch of its life, too.

Her actual face, though, was harder to get a read on. She didn’t wear much make-up but what she did wear would have rendered Betty weak at the knees with jealousy. Every now and then she arched an eyebrow, as though whoever was on the phone had either shocked or impressed her. Impressed, I decided, she looks far too controlled to be shocked by anything. Without any sign that it was coming, then, she slammed the phone back into its cradle and looked my way. She’d hardly taken a breath between ending the call and beckoning me in.

‘Edith?’

‘Edi.’

‘Edi.’ She smiled. ‘Lovely to meet you. I’m sorry to have kept you outside.’ She didn’t stand, but I leaned over the desk and offered her my hand to shake anyway, and she arched her eyebrow again as she reciprocated the gesture. ‘Take a seat.’

I did as I was told. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’