His words fall into the space between us like bullets. I stand, unable to speak, unable to move. We’ve been having a version of this argument every day since I woke to find him clutching those leaflets. So many times, that I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my mind.

‘Look, let’s just stop this,’ says Connor, his voice softening. ‘I’ve told you I forgive you but it’s going to take some time for things to get back to normal.’

And every time I think it’s getting too much, he says something like that, and I give in.

The morning passes in a blur. When I first arrived the girls had huddled around me, asking me if I felt better after the horrible flu that had laid me low, filling me in on snippets of office gossip, letting me know how the campaign for the new Spring Shimmer eyeshadow was going. Eventually, it all got too much and I had to excuse myself.

Now, as I sit here at Anne’s weekly 11 a.m. meeting, my brain feels slow and sticky. I try my best to focus on what Anne is saying but all I can think of are Connor’s words: I bet our baby was scared when you murdered it.

‘What do you think, Vanessa?’

I look up. Damian, sitting on the opposite side of the table, is speaking to me.

‘I … er …’

I suddenly feel very hot. White spots appear in front of my eyes. It’s like the feeling you get when you stand up too quickly.

‘Vanessa?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, scrambling to my feet. ‘I’m not feeling too … I need some water.’

Outside, in the open-plan office space, the air is full of voices, music, the click-clack of keyboards. I hurry to my office, closing the door firmly behind me.

I sit on the armchair and put my head in my hands, try to remember the breathing exercises Anne is always urging us to do. As I sit here, there’s a knock at the door. I look up and see Anne.

‘Vanessa, is everything okay?’ she says, her eyes full of concern as she brings a chair over to where I’m sitting. ‘You look terribly pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say, summoning a smile. ‘I just got a bit overheated. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be able to rejoin the meeting.’

‘You said it was flu,’ says Anne, getting up and fetching me a beaker of water from the cooler.

‘Yes,’ I say, taking the water from her. ‘It was a particularly bad bout.’

I feel terrible for lying to her but I have no choice.