Outside, the rain had returned, heavy and cold. It was perfect weather for the mood she was in. The head office of her bank was in Bayswater. Walking as briskly as she could, feet splashing heedlessly through puddles, she made her way to Paddington station. Minutes on the Circle line and she was back out on the street.

There were only a few people in the bank, and none were at the customer service desk. ‘Good afternoon,’ Molly said. ‘I’d like to speak to the manager please.’

The assistant looked at her with a helpful smile. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

Molly clenched her fists. ‘No, but this is an urgent matter which has come up. It’s vital that I see him.’

‘Mr Victor, the manager, is always happy to see customers,’ the assistant said, in a well-rehearsed line, ‘but unfortunately an appointment is necessary.’ Her smile was forced, insincere.

Glaring at her, Molly put both hands flat on the desk and leaned forward. ‘I need to see him. If you can’t make that happen, get me someone who can.’

Her expression must have mirrored her thoughts because the young woman’s smile vanished to be replaced by a slightly anxious stare. A hand went to the phone, and without taking her eyes from Molly, she picked up the handset, dialled a two-digit number and asked for assistance.

Hoping it wasn’t a secret code for call the police, Molly stood back from the desk and waited.

Only seconds later, a well-dressed man came through a door behind. He glanced at the anxious assistant who nodded slightly to where Molly was standing, and immediately approached her. ‘You’ve a problem?’ he said, without bothering with pleasantries.

A problem? Her life seemed to be collapsing around her – did that count as a problem? She swallowed and took a shuddering breath that echoed loudly in the quiet bank.

‘Come with me,’ the man said, putting a hand on her elbow and leading her through the door and down a long, narrow corridor. He guided her into a small, neat office and pointed to a chair. ‘Sit,’ he said before going to the other side of the desk and taking a seat.

Molly opened her bag, took out a tissue and dabbed her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said, looking across at him. ‘It’s been a nightmare of a day.’

‘I can see that,’ he said gently. ‘I was afraid you were going to pass out on me.’

She managed a shaky laugh. ‘If I had, it would have been the second time today. Are you the manager?’

‘No, not the general manager, if that’s what you mean,’ he admitted with the merest hint of a shrug. ‘My name is Spenser Roberts, I’m the customer service manager. Perhaps, if you tell me what the problem is, I’ll be able to help you.’