‘I told her to add up all the overtime you’ve done – all the early starts, the weekends, the vacation days you’ve never taken and lost – and she’s basically agreed to compassionate leave, letting you stay off until you’d planned to take holiday days anyway. For the honeymoon. The letter is quite formal, but she told me to tell you: screw him, and do what it takes to feel stronger. You’ve earned it, Annie. Chen really wants you to look after yourself. We all do.’

I did the quick maths – I’d had three weeks booked off for a honeymoon and, with the extra time Chen was offering, that would be six weeks off in total. What the hell would I do if I wasn’t working for six weeks? I was already going increasingly mad. Once Mum and Dad left, work – and the dog, for her morning poo – would be the only reasons to force myself out of the house at all. And God, the honeymoon. What a waste. Alexander’s parents had spent so much time planning it. What a shame it would go unused. What would I do instead? House-hunt, I supposed. I could use the time to figure out my next steps. But I didn’t need six weeks for that.

‘I’ll look at the letter,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ll need it though. I’ll pull myself together. I’ve got no choice. I’ll be okay. I have to be. I’ll probably be back to work as soon as I can, to be honest. It will be a good distraction. Thank you, though. I appreciate the thought.’

‘Consider it properly, won’t you?’ Freddie agreed, adding: ‘What’s so good about work anyway?’

She had a point.

6

During the day I wanted to hide out in bed, where somehow it was easier to doze into bouts of fitful sleep that lasted an hour or two before I got woken up by Mum shouting something about taking in Freddie’s new school skirt or popping out for some mince, since that charming butcher across the street was so lovely, or else the dog barking because Dad had shown her the lead before he’d put on his tennis shoes and she knew she was about to go for a walk. Nights were harder. It was too quiet. Too still. It unnerved me. I lay awake most nights from midnight until the sun came up, tossing and turning and catastrophizing, and after almost a week I couldn’t bear it anymore. I was going crazy in my own skin – if I could have torn it off and worn somebody else’s I would have, just for a break from being me.