I tidy myself up the best I can with my comb and the pressed powder I find in the bottom of my bag but it’s a losing battle and Stephen’s eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise as I walk into the office. To his credit he doesn’t ask if I’m okay. Instead he pulls back the chair from my old desk and points at the steaming cup of coffee to the right of the keyboard.

‘Milk, one sugar. Just how you like it.’

I sit down, wrap my hands around the mug and gaze about the office: same furniture, same carpet, same tea-stained countertop, same JCB calendar on the wall. Over six months have passed since I last sat at this desk and the only thing that has changed is me.

Stephen plonks himself into the chair on the other side of the room and picks at the top button of his shirt, sighing as it finally comes free. He is about the same height as Mark, but he’s heavier and he looks as though he’s put on even more weight since I left. He gave up smoking when he and Caroline were trying for a baby and she would pack him off to work with a Tupperware box full of carrot sticks and celery to crunch on. These would mount up in the fridge, box piled upon box, until the end of the week when Stephen would tip the contents into the bin, hiding the packets of Maltesers he’d demolished instead.

‘So,’ he says. ‘What … uh … what prompted the decision to come back to work then?’

‘Liz suggested it and it didn’t seem like such a terrible idea.’

‘Right. Right.’ He nods. ‘And how is Liz? Did she ever find out if Lloyd was having an affair?’

I almost laugh at how out of the loop he is but then I remember, we’ve barely spoken since Billy disappeared.

‘They haven’t spoken in a while. Last thing I heard he was still denying there was anyone else involved.’

‘But she found texts on his mobile, didn’t she? Explicit ones.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And she never rang the number?’

‘She did but it went straight to voicemail. It was the generic one. You know, the one that your phone’s set up with.’

‘Ah.’ Stephen shifts in his seat. His lips part, then he closes them again. I think he’s run out of small talk. ‘Okay, cool. So, I’m not going to throw you in at the deep end today. There’s a bit of invoicing to be done and a stack of orders in the in-tray. We’ve taken on a contractor for the cleaning since you were last … since …’ He pauses to swipe at the bead of sweat that trickles down the side of his face. ‘Anyway, the cleaners were cutting corners so we got some new ones.’

‘I’ll do a bit of invoicing,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’