I wondered at first whether, having turned down an initial opportunity to talk through Alison’s offer, Cameron might undergo a change of heart and suggest a drink another evening. But as Tuesday and Wednesday came and went with no further mention of the matter, my hopes gradually faded until they were completely snuffed out on Thursday evening when Giles told me that, according to Kerry, Cameron wouldn’t be coming to the wine and cheese the next day after all. After that, I was in no doubt whatsoever that he had zero intention of sharing his concerns or opinions with me and, what’s more, was keen to avoid putting himself in any situation where doing so might be unavoidable.

Of course, I would have loved nothing more than to tell Giles all about Alison’s exciting offer and Cameron’s crushing reaction to it. But fortunately for Giles, he was spared any Monday and Tuesday moans, thanks to consecutive evenings spent with Kerry. And by Wednesday, when the pain of Cameron’s snub had dimmed to a dull ache, I realised that the last thing in the world I actually wanted was to drag Giles down from his romantic high with my cheery tale of shattered career dreams, courtesy of a man whom I had come to trust and admire.

So I said nothing to Giles, nor to anyone else for that matter. I had considered requesting a further meeting with Alison, but the only purpose of that would have been to wring my hands and beg her to tell me what, if anything, Cameron had said about the idea of working with me. So instead, I had put my anxieties to one side and attempted to carry on as usual. And I think I must have managed that pretty well if Luke’s behaviour towards me was anything to go by, because he showed absolutely no awareness that I might have been feeling anything other than completely chipper, as his teasing banter continued at full throttle all week.

‘Skiver,’ he said, tapping his watch, as I switched off my screen and buckled my satchel at one minute past five on Friday evening.

‘I’ve got to go and help Giles get ready for the party,’ I replied, standing up.

‘A party?’ he exclaimed, looking hurt. ‘And you’re not inviting me?’

‘It’s the avenue wine and cheese. I thought I’d mentioned it.’

‘Oh, OK, yeah, you did,’ he said, turning back towards his screen. ‘I just got confused when you said “party”.’

I tutted and stopped at his desk as I made my way to the door. ‘You’re more than welcome, if you’d like to come. Giles has bought some unsurprisingly posh food and wine and you’d reduce the average age to around sixty.’