Gradually I realized Harry simply wouldn’t have time in rush hour traffic to get here to talk to me and then get back to work, so at seven o’clock I picked up my jacket and handbag and left the room, checking again with reception whether anyone had left a message for me. Nobody had. Of course they hadn’t; I had my phone with me, fully charged and silent as the grave. Before I left the room I stuck a note onto the mirror just in case he turned up while I was out. Call me, it said. I left my number to remind him, though he’d sworn he’d never forget it. Call me anytime. I love you x

•   •   •

The car park at Sheridan’s was half-full. I couldn’t see Harry’s car there. I looked at my watch. He was usually here by now. My anxiety ramped up and I drove around a couple more times. He definitely wasn’t here. I parked away from the rest of the staff; I didn’t want anyone to notice that my car was crammed full of bags and cases.

I saw my friend Sarah in the distance and hurried toward her. We walked into the building together.

“Good weekend?” she asked. She knew nothing of my affair with Harry, of course. Nobody did.

“It was okay.” I tried to keep my voice bright. I thought of the hours and hours I’d spent staring into space, waiting for the click of the door, for my phone to ring. For anything, really, to tell me what the hell was going on. “I was a bit bored, actually.”

She looked at me as though I were mad. “Bored?”

I forced myself to laugh. It felt odd talking to her; the only person I’d spoken to since Friday night had been the receptionist at the hotel. There was so much to say, but nothing I could tell her.

I fumbled in my bag for my lanyard and hooked it around my neck. I followed Sarah as she walked through the security turnstile. She flashed her card, waited for the green light, and went through. Then I flashed my card. Except when I did it, the light shone red instead of green. I flashed it again. And again. It was still red.

“Danny?” I called to the security guard. “There must be something wrong with my card. Can you let me through? I’ll get a new one when I’m upstairs.”

Danny came over to me, his expression as polite as usual, but without his customary smile. “Step aside, will you, Mrs. Dean?”

I frowned. Mrs. Dean? We were all on first-name terms at work. Without thinking, I stepped aside and immediately the crowd behind me formed a queue for the turnstile.

He went over to the chairs that were for visitors, next to the entrance. “Take a seat here, will you?”