‘I’m…’ Jason shook his head. ‘I’m confused. I mean, how?’ Mark didn’t have the finances. With a divorce behind him, the only asset he had was his flat.

‘I’ve spoken to my bank manager. She’s willing to consider a percentage of the amount required, provided I can meet the rest.’

Jason stared at him. ‘And you propose to do this by selling your soul, presumably?’

‘My flat, actually. I don’t think my soul is worth anything.’ Mark’s mouth twitched into a regretful smile. ‘And before you answer, I already have an offer. It’s being sold as a buy-to-let. I’m going to rent it back.’

Jason balked, trying hard to keep up with him.

‘Turns out my red-hot Tinder date is an estate agent,’ Mark went on, with a wink, ‘so she’s pulling a few strings. I can turn this around, Jason, given time. I know I can. Well, I’m pretty sure I can,’ he added, with a shrug. ‘Obviously, you’ll need time to think about it though. I’ll give you a minute and go grab us a coffee.’

After going through Mark’s vision for the future of Upwards Online, which took them through lunchtime, Jason was in his own office, having said yes. He’d offered Mark a lower price for the saleable assets, not that they were worth a great deal. The business was in the clients, and Mark and Rachel had clearly been working their guts out on ideas and marketing. They wanted to do this. And he… Mark had suggested he continue working with him, but Jason wanted out of it. He wasn’t sure it had ever been an area he’d wanted to be in. He would have to look for a job himself, find a way of supporting his kids, but this seemed like as good a way forward as any, considering he really would have cut his throat rather than touch any of Fenton’s money.

Jason sat at his desk, feeling bemused by the fast turn of events. He needed to tie up loose ends and formulate a plan, given that suicide wasn’t an option, something he was ashamed he’d considered even when he wasn’t getting as drunk as it was possible to get. Getting drunk and chatting to women online, he reminded himself, though he couldn’t remember what had been said.

Jesus, he was a mess. He needed to delete the sites – wished he could delete parts of his life. Flicking on his laptop, wondering whether he might actually owe anyone he’d ‘chatted to’ an apology, he called up the site he’d been browsing. Guilt twisted inside him. He’d been angry. Furious. Figured that, as his marriage was over, he had nothing to lose. Would this really have helped anything though, ‘hooking up,’ or whatever one did, with complete strangers? He’d obviously been inebriated, to the point of senselessness.