‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ I exclaim, scrambling down to the floor. ‘It was only, I was just—’

‘Don’t apologise for anything,’ Penny exclaims with a gravelly laugh. ‘It’s absolutely true, you know. And it’s me who should apologise for marching in like that …’

‘It’s fine, honestly,’ I bluster, face burning.

She beams at me, then turns to the bemused-looking man at her side. ‘Viv, darling, here’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is Nick, my son.’

Part Three

Moving On

Chapter Twenty-One

Twelve days later: Thursday, September 5

Rose isn’t best pleased when I explain that the role of Menopause Ambassador isn’t for me. I’d like to kid myself that it’s due to a reluctance to ‘be defined by my menopausal status’ (a phrase I played around with when I was planning what to say). However, what it comes down to really is that, even if I did want to take it on – which I strongly don’t – I’m not convinced that the women I work with would regard it as A Good Thing.

‘I’m just worried it could come across as patronising,’ I explain in her office.

Rose frowns across her desk. ‘Why d’you think that?’

‘Because …’ I start hesitantly. ‘I’m not convinced that women want to be approached about that kind of stuff at work, you know?’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, there’d be no getting away from the fact that the basic message would be, “Hello, you’re a middle-aged woman, possibly menopausal, judging by the way you snapped at Belinda by the printer, and I saw you sitting there crying in your car in the car park the other day. And, actually, have you put on a little bit of weight lately? Around your middle? Maybe you’d like to talk about that?”’

‘Oh.’ Rose looks crestfallen. ‘Do you cry in the car park?

Only occasionally. ‘No, never,’ I fib.

She smiles briefly. ‘That’s good to hear. And I do understand your reservations, but I’d imagined it would be more of a positive thing.’

‘How would that work, though?’ I ask, genuinely baffled.

‘I just thought they’d like to feel supported.’ They, as if we over-forty-fives are a different species.

‘I’m not sure how we’d do that without making women feel singled out,’ I say, trying to think of another way of putting it. ‘You know all these school and college leavers who’ve been coming in for interviews?’

She nods.

‘Imagine if we had an equivalent for them, like an Ambassador for Youth, who went around asking them how they’re feeling generally, whether they’re experiencing any difficulties in their personal relationships or body issues or whatever …’

She brightens. ‘D’you think they’d value that? We could have one of those too!’