I didn’t tell Giles about the arrangement to meet Jason, deciding that I’d caused him quite enough anxiety over the past four days and that he deserved some time off. So instead, I spent breakfast time on Tuesday asking him about his ongoing fitness programme, which would, that evening, see him running around the Downs, whilst being yelled at by a former army corporal. Determined to keep the mood upbeat, I didn’t voice any of my concerns regarding the possibility of torn ligaments – or the much greater one of doing a press-up in dog poo – and I congratulated myself that, despite everything, he headed off to work that morning displaying greater levels of equanimity than at any time since ten p.m. the previous Friday.

My equanimity levels, on the other hand, had remained resolutely at zero since waking, a situation which manifested itself from 8:30 a.m. in a complete inability to focus on work. Instead, I found myself inescapably preoccupied with examining and re-examining the events of the past few months. In particular, as I watched my work colleagues going about their daily business, I found myself questioning my dramatically changed opinion of them.

Did, for example, my past experience of Luke really bear out that he was an unreconstructed chauvinist?

Had Alison always behaved like a ruthless pragmatist?

Was Cameron actually a…?

What was Cameron? Processing my feelings towards him was particularly challenging, as I struggled to reconcile three primary, inescapable facts: firstly, that he had harassed Ruby; secondly, that Alison had rated and employed him; and thirdly, that Kerry loved and trusted him – completely. And as I noticed him that morning, talking respectfully to Alison, listening with apparently genuine interest to Luke, and bringing a Lemsip to Roger, who had been coughing and sneezing practically non-stop, it felt as if trying to make sense of Cameron Grange might cause my head to explode.

I did my best to hide my inner turmoil, primarily by making copious notes about nothing, in between staring thoughtfully at my screen and saying ‘Hmm’ a lot. But I realised that my subterfuge had failed utterly when Roger, of all people, suddenly asked me if I was OK.

‘Hope I haven’t given you my bug, Edie,’ he said nasally from his desk at lunchtime. It was just the two of us in the office, Alison and Cameron having left for a site meeting and Luke having popped out to pick up a sandwich.

‘I’ve got numerous medications if you need anything.’ He extracted an enormous handkerchief from his trouser pocket and blew his nose loudly. ‘Far too many, in fact,’ he added, sighing and opening his desk drawer, peering inside and then holding up a bottle of Day Nurse and several packets of pills.

I turned to him, puzzled by the offer. ‘I’m fine, but thanks, Roger.’

‘You don’t look fine,’ he said, pushing shut the drawer. ‘You look completely out of sorts.’

‘Do I?’