Ellen arrived somewhat later than usual. Her mother was ill and in need of constant attention so I decided not to clamp down on Ellen’s tardiness and lack of professionalism until the New Year. I had, for some time, been toying with dispensing of her services and replacing her with a more aesthetic model. Her dowdiness, lack of energy and rancid body odour all conspired against her. Loyalty didn’t matter. She was an eyesore and to nurture my own well-being, I needed someone more pleasing to look at.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ She whistled as she waddled like a pregnant duck towards the cloakroom to hang up her coat. ‘Mum’s in a terrible way. She phoned me at three this morning and begged me to go round.’ I could smell the sweat from my vantage point by the repeat prescriptions and quelled the urge to ask Ellen to leave, albeit politely, there and then.

‘Can I get you a coffee? I bought some biscuits. Jaffa Cakes, your favourite, boss.’ Her backside blocked the entrance to the kitchenette and I felt a violent surge of loathing as I watched her.

‘Yes please. No sugar and no biscuits. Need to lose some weight.’ I was stick thin. My revulsion pushed me to cruelty. ‘Perhaps you should avoid the treats as well.’ I smiled, one of my winning smiles, all gritted teeth.

‘Of course I should but what fun would that be?’ She laughed and her jowls wobbled. Fat fingers clasped the spoon as she stirred the coffee, dripping dirty blobs onto the worktop. The strength of my disgust threatened sane thought. The contrast between Amber and this hippopotamus taunted me.

‘Look, I also bought some baubles for the tree. I used petty cash. Hope that was okay,’ Ellen said, slurping from her mug. She extracted, from a flimsy carrier bag, two boxes of glittering glass balls stuck with bright red two for one stickers.

‘What do you think? I got them in the pound shop. Where did you say the tree was?’

I nodded towards the storeroom.

Five minutes later, Ellen was back, hauling the tree out of its box and messily discarding plastic spikes all over the shop floor. Perhaps fate was kind to her because at that moment the front bell pinged to announce a customer. On cue, she sloped off back to the storeroom.

‘May I help you, sir?’ The tall dark-haired gentleman handed me a prescription which I glanced at. I told him it would only take a few minutes and disappeared round the back.

I counted out the fifty diazepam tablets. I thought at the time the man didn’t look like the sort of person who would need sedating. Also, in my experience, it was more usual for women to request tranquillisers than men. I was to be proven right in my summations.