‘OK, well, enjoy the wine and cheese,’ he said, sounding subdued and waving to me over his shoulder. ‘I’ll see you Monday,’

‘Wait! I was just getting a—’ I began, before being interrupted by the buzzing of my phone which lay face down on my desk.

Luke nodded towards it. ‘No worries. I know you’re busy. You get that and I’ll leave you to it.’ And with that, he turned and left the office.

I looked after him and, the threat of tears having now receded, I screwed the tissue I was clutching into a tight little ball and threw it into the bin.

My phone stopped buzzing and I turned it over to see who had called: Jason. My God, there were spineless men at every turn tonight.

I leaned back in my chair and stared miserably upwards at the ceiling. The weight of disappointment I felt in Luke was crushing. He might have succeeded in selling his lack of moral fibre as fair-minded professionalism to himself, but it didn’t wash with me. I would have had less of a problem had he simply maintained a polite working relationship with Cameron – I could have even coped with cordial. But their relationship went beyond that. There was a warmth to it, a black-slapping camaraderie and, worst of all, a nudge-nudge, wink-wink acceptance. Cameron was well and truly one of the boys.

My phone pinged and I glanced down at it: Jason again.

Resisting an urge to sweep it off the desk and into the bin, along with the tissue, the Twix wrapper and all respect for Luke, I picked up the phone and opened the text.

I’d really like us to talk. Do you think that’s ever going to be possible?

I considered the question, re-reading it five or six times, before placing the phone gently back onto the desk and bending forward to reach once again into my bag. I was going to need a tissue after all.

‘Forgot this.’

I sat up quickly at the sound of Cameron’s voice to see him standing at his desk on the dimly lit far side of the office and holding up a clear plastic wallet.

‘OK, bye,’ I muttered, looking down and allowing my hair to fall forwards across my face, as I reached for the scribble pad on my desk, picked up a pencil and began to draw. A moment later, and to my horror, I became aware of him crossing the office towards me.

I had no choice but to look up as he reached my desk, quickly removing the top sheet from the pad and adding it to the growing contents of my bin, lest Cameron recognise himself in the leering caricature, with enormous hands and a cuboid head, which I had drawn.

‘Creative block?’ he asked, smiling and looking towards the bin.

‘I was just… er… thinking about some windows – trying to get an idea straight before I went home.’