Of course, I didn’t want to go back, and I was pretty sure that everyone there, with the obvious exception of Cameron, who had barely made eye contact with me since Monday, would tell me to go home. But I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t let the awkwardness between Kerry and Giles rumble on any longer and, in order to sort that, I had to talk to Cameron.

I arrived back at the office shortly after four p.m. and, after receiving gruff kindnesses from Roger, teasing concern from Luke and no acknowledgement whatsoever from Cameron, I spent the next hour or so moving between my desk and my drawing board, annotating designs based on that day’s site meeting.

What I needed, I had decided, was to get Cameron alone – even if only for a few minutes. I had no doubt that he would respond civilly if I asked him for a meeting in front of our colleagues, but at this point I didn’t at all trust myself to keep it together. A rising anxiety regarding the encounter, coupled with physical exhaustion and waves of depression over Ruby’s duplicity, were taking a significant toll on my ability to think straight and function. If I was going to have difficulty using my words or, worse still, cry my eyes out in front of anybody, I would rather it was just Cameron, instead of the entire office.

My plan, therefore, was that if he decided to work late, I would wait with him until everyone else had gone, and talk to him then. Alternatively, if he left early, I would follow him to the lifts and ask for a meeting to discuss everything – either at work or in the pub. I honestly didn’t mind which he plumped for; the prospect of either made me feel equally sick.

By five thirty, everyone was still at their desks. By six, Luke had gone but Roger was looking like he was in it for the long haul, having gone to the previously unheard of lengths of purchasing himself a coffee from Costa after his flask ran dry.

At six fifteen, my stomach lurched as Cameron rose to his feet and unhooked his coat from the hatstand. Standing up, I prepared to follow him. However, a moment later, having retrieved something from his coat pocket, he was back at his desk and facing his screen.

I lowered myself slowly back into my chair with some difficulty, thanks to a whole-body tension which seemed to extend even to my eyeballs, making blinking an effort of will. I attempted to relax, stretching my arms upwards and then leaning forward in my chair, rubbing my lower back and catching Roger’s eye as I did so. He shook his head at me and then stood up and walked to my desk.