My stomach dropped. Kourtney must have been talking about me. If I didn’t get any work through the agencies, I’d be stuck. Another message came through. It was Sarah again.

Eleanor Jones used to work with them, too.

Was that how Kourtney had known about Harry and me? I’d suspected everyone at work, and now I knew who it was. Sarah sent another text:

Adam’s got some friends coming round tonight. Fancy meeting up for wine and a chat? I can come to yours if you like or we could go out.

Of course Sarah thought I was still living with Tom. I looked around my new living room. Sarah and her husband, Adam, had been to my old house a few times and we’d been to their house. She’d loved my home and was polite about Tom, but I wasn’t sure she’d really warmed to him. She didn’t know where I was now, was completely unaware I’d left home. The thought of bringing her here horrified me. I sent a quick message:

I fancy going out. McCullough’s at 8?

•   •   •

McCullough’s was a bar just over a couple of miles away from each of our houses. It was a lovely warm night and I walked there. I arrived first but I’d been eager to leave the flat. That summer, gin was everywhere, and when I saw the cocktails on offer I abandoned my good intentions about alcohol and ordered a strawberry gin. Sarah came running in twenty minutes later, full of apologies, just as the place was getting crowded.

“So sorry! Lovely to see you.” She kissed my cheek and sank into a chair. “Oh, that looks good. I’ll have the same.” When her drink arrived she sipped it and leaned back with a sigh. “God, I needed that. It’s been a horrible week.”

“For me, too.”

“Of course, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. What on earth’s been going on, Ruby? I’ve missed you so much at work. Are you okay?”

Immediately my eyes prickled with tears. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”

“I can’t believe they let you go,” she said. “Do you know why? Nobody’s said a word.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “You were a great worker. They couldn’t deny that. You had that office running like clockwork. I hope they put that on the reference.”

“They forgot to put that on,” I said. “My reference was insultingly short.”

“What? That’s outrageous! I’ll ask Harry to write you one. He’s back at work on Monday.”

“No, don’t,” I said quickly. “Don’t ask him.”

She stared at me. “Whyever not?” she said. “It’s the least he can do.”

I took a gulp of my cocktail and thought, Why not? Why shouldn’t I tell her? Why should I protect him when he’s treated me like this?