‘Yep, Kytes were supplied with the wrong product from us. That’s about the size of it.’ She grimaces. ‘What can I say? It went right through production all the way to retail and it’s out there being sold as a human-edible snack.’

I take a moment to process this. ‘Oh, my God. That’s terrible.’

‘Yes, exactly. Oh-my-bloody-God. Look at this lot.’ She delves into the tan leather bag at her side and tosses an array of newspapers across her desk. My gaze drops to a headline:

Watership CLOWNS: Why was bunny food sold to humans?

‘Which products are they?’ I ask.

‘We think it’s limited to Crunchy-Bites …’

‘My daughter has those!’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Rose says blithely. ‘Nothing to worry about at all.’

I’m aware of a sick sensation in my stomach. ‘But what’s in them?’

She has the audacity to look irritated. ‘D’you really need the ingredients list right now?’

‘Yes please,’ I say tightly.

Rose sighs and taps at her keyboard: ‘Okay. Wheat, bran, vegetable protein, vegetable oil, vitamin C, mineral premix …’

Hmm, not ideal, obviously, but nothing too hideous-sounding there.

‘Limestone,’ she continues.

‘Limestone?’ I exclaim.

‘And, er, mould repellent and that’s pretty much it …’

‘Mould repellent!’ I realise it’s not helpful, repeating the ingredients back at her, but I’m in a bit of a state. Why do I give in and buy Izzy these disgusting snacks? Jules bakes her own beetroot and sweet potato crisps for Maeve. A hell of a faff, I’ve always thought, but preferable to feeding your child limestone and mould repellent. What kind of mother am I really?

‘Will it harm her?’ I bark. ‘Please be honest with me.’

Rose’s expression softens. There’s no blow-dry today. Her hair is hanging, deflated, against her sallow face. ‘Look, I know it’s not great, but honestly, they’re completely safe. That’s not the issue. The priority now is to find how it happened and what we’re going to do next. According to Kytes – and of course they’re desperate to assign blame – the batch missed any spot checks of theirs and, well, here we are.’ She presses her lips together in a flat line.

‘Right.’ I pause. ‘I assume there’s been a product recall?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She turns back to her laptop and peers at it, attention wavering already. ‘As I said in my message, the short-term priority is damage limitation. We need to apologise and reassure customers. I need everyone to be ready for a meeting downstairs at eleven. Could you send a mass email now, marking it urgent, then get yourself down there to help set up the boardroom?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I say, still thinking limestone and mould repellent, for crying out loud. I know I don’t make the darn things – I’m just a PA – but still I feel somehow responsible.