‘Oh, that’s just a stopgap kind of thing,’ I say.

‘Really?’ Her eyes widen in interest as I laugh awkwardly.

‘Well, yes – a stopgap that’s gone on for way too long. Half a decade in fact. But actually, working on the show here has been really useful for me too. It’s changed everything, actually.’

‘In what way?’

I exhale, wondering whether to hold back, or just to let it all out. ‘I’ve been treading water these past few years,’ I say. ‘Not just with work but in all ways really. It’s just happened. Maybe it was having a second child fairly late on or, um, other things in my life … but the show reminded me how much I loved my job, when I was younger. And it wasn’t about the salary, or the recognition back then. It was just doing something I loved.’

She beams at me. ‘I do know that feeling.’

‘D’you feel like that, about working here?’

‘I do,’ she says firmly, ‘and I know Isla does too. We all do. But I think we needed an injection of something new.’

‘A Penny Barnett injection,’ I suggest.

‘Well, yes, Penny, of course. But you made it happen, Viv. You ran with the idea, and turned into a real thing, something entirely doable with virtually no budget at all. And look what’s happened.’

‘It’s been brilliant,’ is all I can think of to say. ‘And it’s also been a total pleasure. I wish everything I did felt like this. Work-wise, I mean.’

‘Well, maybe it could,’ Hannah remarks. ‘Erm, would you consider taking on a role here, Viv?’

I blink at her. ‘You mean … an actual job?’

‘I do, yes. Well, a contract actually. A maternity contract …’

I look at her, not quite sure what she means. ‘What kind of role would it be?’ I ask. It’s safer, I decide, than blurting out, Are you pregnant? to be met with a steely gaze, not that Hannah seems remotely steely, but it’s not what an un-pregnant woman wants to hear. I’ve made that mistake in the past.

‘It’s the role of special exhibitions officer,’ she replies, ‘which basically means covering for me. It’s a little while off yet. I’m hoping to work right through until May – but I’d like to have the right person in place well before that.’

I grin at her. ‘You’re going on leave? You mean, you’re …’

‘Yes, I am pregnant,’ she says, laughing. I glance down, now seeing the small, neat bump beneath her loose grey cotton dress. ‘I know it can be a dangerous thing to comment on. But yes, I’m taking a full year’s leave, and the maternity contract will be for that year. And at the end of that …’ She pauses.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say quickly. ‘I know you probably can’t guarantee anything beyond that.’