‘Yes, well. I’ve realised I do want that job back. How depressing. I spent years earning my public-sector maternity benefits and get pregnant the second I storm out.’

‘Your body must have bloomed at the freedom.’

‘Probably.’

‘Just stay calm. Say sorry.’

‘I know. But it’s they who should be apologising to—’

‘BAAAAH. Wrong answer.’

‘But seriously, they’re such mor—’

‘BAAAAH. To be kidnapped by Mossad and tried as a war criminal.’

‘Will you let me talk, Paul?’

‘Sorry.’

‘It shouldn’t all be one-way traffic.’

‘I’m just trying to suggest you bury your anger for the purpose of your meeting.’

‘I spend my whole life burying my anger. What’s that fucking look on your face about?’

‘Sympathy. Would you like to get out of here and get something to eat? It can’t be much fun here without booze.’

She looked around the room. ‘It’s OK. I liked Emily. But I’ll just head off in a bit. Need to prepare for tomorrow’s showdown. You’re probably right. I need a script.’

‘I could help you work on one.’

‘Don’t you want to stay with your new mates?’

‘They’re not exactly my mates. Sophie seems to actively dislike me.’

‘Not as much as she dislikes me.’

‘Or you hate her.’

‘What a stuck-up bitch. Did you hear the way she spoke to me?’

‘I think that’s just the way she talks to everyone. The other one, Rochi, she’s OK, isn’t she?’

‘She’s a lot less rude. And she must be absolutely minted. Have you seen her bag? That’s about two thousand quid’s worth of handbag.’

‘Maybe it’s a knock-off.’

‘Women like her don’t carry knock-offs.’

‘I didn’t notice.’

‘I think you do notice. You’re always going for women like those.’

‘I wish. I don’t come into contact with them.’

‘You love those North London girls.’

‘Monica wasn’t posh. Or from North London.’

‘Wasn’t she?’

‘No! She was from Portsmouth. That’s not the same as posh.’

‘You’re not still thinking about her?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Oh, Paul. She’s gone.’

‘Let me buy you dinner.’

‘Nah. You belong here. This is your scene. I’m getting my book signed then heading off for a pizza on the sofa with Netflix.’

‘When will I see you again?’

‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to disappear.’

‘Please don’t.’

‘Chance would be a fine thing. Were you crying earlier? I know you said you had hay fever but you looked like—’

‘It was just hay fever. If I looked miserable it was just because they got me thinking about Dad and Carl.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Oh, I’m being oversensitive. I thought they were saying Dad and Carl were… insignificant, but all they were probably saying is that women have it harder. Which is true, isn’t it? Look at Mum.’