Mia was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to hold the job down for much longer. Someone would be onto her soon – find out who she really was. Probably that would be Laura, who was like a dog with a bone. Mia actually admired that in her. Under different circumstances, they might have been friends.

Lately nothing had been going the way she planned, though, and as she rode the lift to the third floor she hadn’t imagined it could get much worse. But it did, the moment she stepped out.

As soon as she saw him she had doubled over, gripping a nearby empty desk to steady herself. If only she had been prepared to see him again one day, she might have been able to handle it. But she hadn’t. And so Mia had run back out of the office.

Now she tapped the side of her empty glass and allowed the barman to refill it. He was eyeing her carefully, no doubt wondering if he thought she might be a problem. He had every right to be suspicious, but whatever problems she might cause that night, they weren’t going to be in his bar.

Mia hadn’t gone far when she’d fled the offices that morning. She had only run to the quay. She wasn’t sure how long she had been there, pacing up and down the cobbled path, knowing she needed to go back to work, but not willing to return while he was in the office.

She had been biding her time when she saw them all together, walking down the street – Harry, Janie and Miles – and shot into a doorway before any of them saw her.

Mia had felt sick as she cowered by the bright-pink door, an entrance to someone’s flat. Her fingers trembled as they gripped the edge of the frame to steady herself, praying they didn’t walk past and see her.

Would Miles recognise her, if they did? Mia doubted it. It had been a few years and she had changed since then – cut her hair much shorter, lost weight – but she wasn’t taking any chances. She waited as they passed, thankfully unaware that she was lurking nearby; and only after they’d gone did she step out into the street.

Her legs felt like liquid as she watched them retreat. At her sides, her hands clenched into fists.

Miles might not recognise her, but he would Jess. Despite the fact that she was now in a wheelchair and a shell of the woman she once was, he’d surely have known her face.