‘Thanks, Rachel.’ The first hurdle over, I push on into the main office, where Mark is seated in front of his computer.

‘Hi, Mark,’ I say, my cheery smile still in place. ‘How’s the internet dating going?’ I decide to broach the subject, thinking that, if he has anything to hide on Jason’s behalf, he might hesitate or look slightly sheepish.

Mark does neither. ‘Interesting,’ he answers straight off, ‘depending on how riveted you are by your date regaling you with tales of her ex-husband’s assignations with other women while weeping into her wine.’

‘Oh dear.’ I laugh as he glances despairingly at the ceiling.

‘The latest one seems promising though. We’ve got past first base at least.’

‘Brilliant.’ I widen my eyes and try to look pleased for him, though my stomach is now churning like a washing machine on full spin. ‘We’ll have to have a meal out together sometime.’

‘Yeah, nice idea. Jase isn’t here,’ Mark says, as I head towards the small office Jason uses to entertain clients who might need a little extra ‘chatting up’, as he calls it – and maybe more, whispers Sarah’s mistrustful voice in my head.

I ignore it. I wondered why he needed the extra office space when he first started up, but when I thought about it, it made sense. Some clients will need the reassurance of a certain level of successfulness, I reasoned. And Jason had thought he could afford it then.

‘I know.’ I repeat what I said to Rachel: ‘I’ve snuck out of work to send off a job application. Hope that’s okay with you?’

‘No problem.’ Mark stands, stretches and picks up his mug. ‘I’ll grab you a coffee.’

‘I’m okay, Mark, thanks. I’ve not long had one,’ I lie. My mouth is dry, my throat parched. I let myself through to the office, close the door, lean back against it and try to do the simplest thing in life and just breathe.

Jason’s laptop is there, wired up and open on his desk. I wasn’t sure whether he would take it with him, but as he’d said he wanted to consider whatever deal my father might offer him before going through any of the company software with him, I’d hoped he wouldn’t. I would have used the desktop computer, otherwise, or pretended to, whilst going through the paperwork in his drawers.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Jason has given me no reason to.

But he has, whispers Sarah.

And I realise she’s right. Dad might not like him, but it wasn’t he who first planted these seeds in my head. It was Jason.