‘Hey, Ellie. You’re out of it and free of them. But it’s been ages now. You need to find a new focus. You’re a hotshot in IT, you’re creative. And you’re highly organised, good at managing people, a planner and a visionary. Your team adored you. Any big IT company would kill to get you.’ He reached over and put his hand `on hers. ‘Of course, if you’d stayed and eventually been made redundant you would have been paid out.’

‘Never! That would have been hell. Imagine sitting there having to watch that woman trying to run things and stuffing up. Then they’d have to ask me to fix it – or just blame me for it. She thinks she knows more than she does.’ Ellie bit her lip. ‘I feel steamrolled. I can’t work up the confidence – or the motivation, I guess – to do anything. I know I have to pull my finger out, but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Am I whingeing?’

Mike pulled his hand back and gave her a lopsided grin. ‘Maybe, but you’re allowed to. Now, do you want to eat? I’m starving.’

Picking up the menu, Ellie studied it for a moment. ‘Let’s try the jalapeño mescal cocktail: “grilled lime, slices of agave, chilli salt. Mexico’s sister to tequila”.’

‘Sure. And what about the blinis, jambon croquettes, mussels . . .’

‘Moules marinière, for me, with sourdough on the side.’ She smiled at him. ‘You always cheer me up. I haven’t felt hungry or eaten properly for ages.’

‘You’re easy to please.’ They ordered and Ellie started to relax a little, feeling less like an overwound spring.

Mike and Ellie had met at work and bonded over their interest in new developments in IT and ways to use it to build communities. They had kept in touch and occasionally met for coffee. Sometimes they had dinner or drinks in a favourite wine bar. He was funny, supportive and someone Ellie could talk to easily, though they both avoided talking shop, and Ellie didn’t share too much of her personal angst. She looked up to find Mike giving her a quizzical look.

‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘Earth to Estelle: I asked, what next?’ He sipped his cocktail. ‘You said on the phone that you’d had a long talk with your mother. I heard her on the radio the other day, by the way, the “expert psychologist and physician”. What’s her advice?’

Ellie paused, then said, ‘I think she’s worried about me. She’s been giving me space, but she won’t let me drag my feet and sit around forever.’

‘Neither will I. You’ll be boring company if you don’t do something soon,’ he said briskly, but with a broad smile.

‘Mum doesn’t push buttons. She’s supportive but she doesn’t like to prescribe. While everything was falling apart at work, she never once reminded me that she’d said over and over that I was working too hard for too little recognition. You know, she never liked Charlie but she’s never said anything against him or muttered I told you so’s about our divorce.’ Ellie sat back in her chair.