She was confused by her attraction to Lee, as he was, by many of her usual yardsticks, very unsuitable. He was very slight and not especially tall, and sometimes wore what looked like a pair of hiking boots to work. Probably because he was also outdoorsy (which was usually another of Ellen’s red lines). In the course of their relatively recent Facebook friendship, it appeared he had already cycled from London to Brighton, gone camping near Fort William, and sailed down the Thames in a small craft that doubled as a tent. From what she could see, all of his friends were men. Three of them were called Adam. All of them wore fleeces.

And yet, he was also sweet, funnier than his earnest Two Wheels Good persona suggested, and had seduced her on three separate occasions, including one encounter – their latest – which had taken place in the third-floor unisex loo. Ellen knew this was a little cheap (Alexa’s cheeks had flushed when Ellen had confessed). Still, sometimes she grinned when she passed the third floor in the lift. She’d had to physically restrain Kayleigh when she admitted it, her friend had been so keen to share this bombshell with the rest of the office.

After each occasion there had been plenty of messages, mostly non-committal but intriguing enough to warrant some of Ellen’s attention. But last night, when Lee and the rest of the Two Wheels Good lot had come up to The Flowdown’s floor to extend the use of their company card at the pub, he had stayed close to the door, not quite meeting her eye. He’d come to The Fox on the Hill, but left fairly early and without speaking to her, sticking instead to the side of one of his colleagues, a taciturn UX engineer called Bill, who rode a unicycle in the atrium (she’d made a joke about two wheels being ‘bad’, but he hadn’t got it). She’d spent most of the evening trying to catch Lee’s eye while pretending she wasn’t, and feeling acutely conscious, always, of exactly where he was in the room. When he left, she’d been disappointed.

She was getting cramp in her legs now. More half-memories surfaced: she remembered getting on the night bus, and stumbling slightly in her ankle boots, some blokes at the back jeering at her. She hadn’t known where to sit so she’d stood at the front of the bus, in the section reserved for buggies and wheelchairs, feeling exposed, the whole journey home. She shook her head to try and knock these tormenting thoughts from it, and then determined that, in fact, she needed Alexa. She hoped she’d come for her soon.

Ellen wouldn’t tell her about the wet patch, though. Maybe she could cover it with her hand.

‘See? Fresh air is better, isn’t it?’ Alexa closed her eyes.