She smiled and shook her head. ‘You are lovely, Edie, but she definitely preferred your style to mine. In fact, she just plain preferred you to me. We both know that. And now that Cameron has arrived, she’s moved on to being head-over-heels about him. But you’re better at shrugging off that kind of snub than I am. I need to work in an environment where the boss doesn’t let personal stuff get in the way of appreciating creativity. That’s what’s so great about the Bath practice.’

She paused and looked around the room. ‘It’s quite busy in here for six p.m., isn’t it?’

I didn’t follow her gaze, but instead kept my eyes firmly fixed on her face, knowing that, however much I dreaded confrontation, I couldn’t let the implied and wholly unjust criticism of Alison go unchallenged. Neither, I realised, could I let this relationship, with its huge burden of unowned and unacknowledged betrayal and lies, keep limping along. I needed closure after all – or, at least, a shot at it.

‘I think you’re wrong,’ I said.

She blinked slightly, before turning towards me, her smiled fixed. ‘Sorry? Wrong about what?’

‘About Alison,’ I began, taking a breath. ‘I think she has likes and dislikes and not a lot of charm, but I don’t think she has favourites. Certainly not to the extent that it influences her creative or professional judgement.’

After the most minute of hesitations, she laughed. ‘Now, don’t go getting all affronted on me. I know you think I’ve got her all wrong.’

‘You’re right. I do think that.’

Her smile disappeared. ‘Why are you being so serious? What on earth’s the matter?’ she asked, studying me with apparent concern and then leaning forward in her chair. ‘You know, I’ve been so worried about you, Edie. You’ve sounded so flat in your messages over the past few months. I honestly think that job is sucking all the confidence and fun out of you. You’re a brilliant architect and it really pisses me off to think that slowly but surely your talent is being undermined.’ She shook her head. ‘God, and you’re too nice even to see it happening. You should do like I did and get the hell out.’ She relaxed back, assuming, I could tell, that hers was to be the closing statement on the subject.

But she was wrong again.

‘I can’t see it happening because it’s not happening,’ I said. ‘Not to me, anyway. I feel very appreciated and highly supported and I’m really sorry that you didn’t feel the same way. You should have said something.’

She didn’t immediately reply, having clearly gone into momentary shock that I hadn’t let the matter lie. But it took just seconds for her features to relax back into friendly compassion.