This seemed so out of character, her jaw fell open again. Did obnoxious people have dogs?

Becky hesitated. They were standing outside Terence’s office and she remembered the conversation from earlier. How Piers had landed her in it.

‘Nah, you’re all right,’ she said.

His face crumpled into such a look of disappointment she was taken aback.

‘Oh,’ he said.

She was embarrassed then, awkward. Then realized she was going to be late if she didn’t get a move on.

‘Another time, maybe,’ she mumbled and headed for the lift that took her down to the garage. As she pressed the button, she shook her head, bewildered. What had happened back there? The lift reached the basement and she stepped out and saw Darcy getting into her car. Becky smiled and was just lifting a hand in goodbye when Darcy blanked her. Becky stared as Darcy drove away. What was all that about? Come to think of it, Darcy had kept her distance all afternoon. It suddenly hit her. It was Darcy who’d grassed her up. Darcy, who fancied Piers. Becky paused, in half a mind to go back upstairs and accept Piers’s offer of a lift. But time was ticking. If she wasn’t careful, she’d miss her train. Be late for the meet with Tim.

Becky quickly unlocked her bike and cycled out of the garage, the rain pelting her eyes immediately. She turned into Gray’s Inn Road, not noticing a motorcyclist with a black visor pull in behind her. The rain was relentless, and the cars sped past, soaking her further. Becky turned off the main road as soon as she could, taking her usual route down the side streets.

It was better once she was away from the traffic and she relaxed a little. She was looking forward to the evening, meeting the man who had put a smile on her mum’s face. It would be nice to forget about work for a few hours and just hang out at home. She’d grab a bottle of wine from the shop once she’d got off the train. Maybe something really nice to go with the fillet steak. Something special.

At a junction, she stopped to let a lorry pass. Then she turned left, following in its path. She kept her distance, knowing the spray from such a large vehicle would be severe. Becky didn’t see the motorbike turn down another street and disappear into the night.

As she headed for the next junction, a gust of wind blew rain into her face. The same gust turned a woman’s umbrella inside out and she glanced over as the woman on the pavement struggled to right it. Becky needed to go left at the junction and she stopped patiently behind the lorry, who had his indicator on, also turning left. She saw him check his mirrors, saw him acknowledge her with a friendly wave, and she lifted her arm, likewise.

Becky waited for the truck to turn, but he didn’t move. She peered up through the rain and saw he was beckoning to her, indicating for her to go first. She double-checked this was the message he was giving. There was plenty of room to cycle down the side of the truck – he was one of the few drivers who actually left the obligatory 1.5 metres from the kerb for cyclists. There was no one behind her.