It seemed luck was on my side, because it turned out to be one of the busiest afternoons since I’d worked there. There was a steady stream of customers and Jo was pretty much continually occupied.

‘You’ll have to leave the archiving until later,’ Bryony sniffed. ‘It’ll wait, I suppose.’

I processed a bond deposit and booked in a viewing for a student bedsit conversion that had just gone on the market that morning.

Something had been niggling me about my desk since I’d got into work, and as I reached for a notepad, I suddenly realised what it was: Evie’s photo was missing. I opened my pedestal drawers and peered in, but the photograph was nowhere to be found. Just as I was about to mention it to Jo, a young couple came in.

‘We’re interested in the two-bedroomed house that’s just come up for rent on Muriel Crescent in Bulwell,’ the girl said, pushing back a long mousey-brown fringe. ‘Our friend told us about it. Number sixty-one.’

I smiled and opened my mouth to tell her that I lived on Muriel Crescent, but then thought better of it. I didn’t want them knocking on my door at Christmas when the boiler had bust or something similar.

‘Take a seat, please. I’ll just get the details up,’ I said, tapping at my keyboard.

‘I’m afraid that property has already gone,’ Bryony said from behind them, seemingly appearing from nowhere. The clients turned around in their chairs to look at her. ‘It went this morning. But I’m sure Toni can find you something similar in the vicinity.’

‘Of course,’ I said, frowning. I’d not seen a lettings board on my street and I tended to make browsing new lettings one of my first jobs in the afternoon, so that I had an up-to-date overview for clients. I didn’t know how I’d missed it.

Within twenty minutes, I’d found two similar properties for the couple and set up viewings for both of them. After they’d left the shop, just out of interest, I submitted a search for properties to let on Muriel Crescent. Nothing had been registered on the database.

Bryony came through and placed a stack of index cards on the corner of my desk. I got a powerful waft of her sickly-sweet, flowery perfume.

‘Can you rewrite these customer contact cards, please, Toni,’ she said without looking at me. ‘They’re getting a bit dog-eared. And I’d like you to at least make a start on the archiving before you go home, please.’

I glanced at the wall clock. She was overloading me on purpose for the last hour.

‘I thought all our customers’ details were computerised?’ I said, lightly.

I couldn’t help myself. Who, in this day and age, handwrote contact details anymore? I wanted her to know that I knew she was just being an arse for the sake of it.

‘Did I ask for your opinion?’ she snapped, her perfectly plucked eyebrows shooting up. ‘When I ask you to do something, I don’t expect to be questioned, Toni.’

‘Fine,’ I sighed, reaching for the cards. Then I remembered. ‘Oh, there’s no property on Muriel Crescent on the database,’ I said. ‘Do we have a hard copy of the details?’

‘Toni.’ Bryony’s expression was pained, as if I was causing her actual physical discomfort. ‘The property came in and was snapped up by a tenant before it even got to that stage. I dealt with it personally. Now, please get on with your job, you’ve wasted enough time wittering on as it is.’

‘Probably another one of her dodgy deals,’ Jo whispered behind her hand after Bryony had disappeared back into her office.

‘Have you seen Evie’s photograph?’ I asked her, pointing to the space where it had been. ‘It’s disappeared.’

Jo pulled a face. ‘I haven’t. That’s strange.’

‘It was still here on Saturday when I popped in.’

‘Ask Bryony.’ Jo shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time she’s taken it upon herself to move people’s personal items.’

A few minutes later, Bryony came through into the office and I asked her if she’d seen the photograph.

‘What do you mean, have I seen it?’

‘Well, it’s gone from my desk,’ I explained. ‘I just wondered—’

‘What you mean is, have I taken it?’

‘No, I didn’t mean that, Bryony, I just . . .’ I couldn’t seem to get my words out. She towered above my desk, glaring down at me. I could feel myself becoming flustered, so I backed off. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was accusing you. Maybe I’ve mislaid it, I don’t know.’

She turned without saying another word, pinned something to the customer notice board and walked back into her office.

---

I worked steadily and got half of the contact cards rewritten.

Evie would be in her first after-school session with Harriet Watson now. I hoped and prayed Harriet could help counteract the morose mood Evie had slid into. Despite Mum’s reservations, Harriet seemed to be working hard to build up a rapport with my daughter and I felt grateful to her for that.

Finally, the shop had quietened down, so I took the opportunity to go into the back office to start the archiving task.

‘If I’m not out in half an hour, come and get me,’ I told Jo. ‘I might just fall asleep in there, given it’s such an enthralling task.’

Jo snorted in reply.

The archived boxes were piled up next to the photocopier, which was noisily churning out property brochures by the dozen.

There were at least twenty boxes from the previous year, labelled A–C, D–F and so on. I sighed and picked one at random. I bent down to pick it up and screamed as something touched my back, my hand flying up to my throat.

‘Sorry!’ Dale backed off, his hands in the air. ‘I’m so sorry, Toni, I didn’t mean to startle you. I did say hello but you didn’t hear me over the noise of the machine.’

He’d tapped me lightly on the back to let me know he was there. My heartbeat was in overdrive.

‘Oh God, I’m turning into a nervous wreck.’ I gave a little laugh. ‘I didn’t hear you, sorry.’

I looked up at him and felt my face flush as I inhaled. He was wearing that nice aftershave again.

‘I wanted to ask if you’ve been OK today,’ he said. He glanced at the door and leaned forward to speak quietly into my ear. ‘I hope it’s not been too . . . difficult?’

We both knew exactly what – and who – he was referring to.

‘It’s been OK,’ I began and then, in a moment of madness, decided to be a little more candid. ‘Bryony has got me doing senseless tasks though, it’s ridiculous. There are far more important things I could be doing.’

Dale nodded. ‘I hear you. Let me keep an eye on things for the next couple of days. I’d hate to think we’re wasting all your experience.’

Wasting it? They hadn’t even tapped into it yet.

‘I’ve got to refile the archived property details.’ I nodded to the box that had toppled from the pile when I’d jumped back.

‘Here, let me get that for you.’ Dale moved past me and stumbled slightly, grasping hold of my shoulder, his face embarrassingly close to mine. We locked eyes for a moment.

‘Oh! Excuse me.’ Bryony stood in the doorway. ‘Am I interrupting something here?’

Dale coughed and stepped away from me.

‘I was just helping Toni,’ he said quickly. ‘With the archive boxes.’

‘I see.’ Her mouth set into a tight little line and she glared at me. ‘Toni, you can carry on writing the contact cards in the office,’ she said. ‘Leave the archiving for today.’

I nodded and walked out of the office without looking at either of them again.

When I got out into the corridor, the door clicked shut behind me, and as I walked away, I heard raised voices.

Back in the office I relayed what had happened to Jo. ‘She looked furious,’ I said. ‘Anyone would think she was the owner and Dale was her assistant.’

‘You’ve worked out why, haven’t you?’ Jo smirked. ‘Surely you can’t be that naïve.’

‘Worked what out?’ Then it came to me. ‘They’re having an affair?’

Jo had just taken a sip of her tea and nearly choked. She shook her head. ‘Bryony’s got a crush on Dale but the attraction isn’t mutual. Dale was engaged to his childhood sweetheart. They’d just started to plan their wedding when Mia was killed in a car accident. It happened about eighteen months ago.’

‘Oh no,’ I whispered. No wonder Dale had been so understanding when I told him about Andrew. He knew exactly how I felt.

‘Since then it’s been embarrassing.’ Jo rolled her eyes. ‘Bryony started coming to work dressed to the nines. She’s not even subtle about her intentions anymore.’

‘But she’s married,’ I said. ‘You said they were desperate for a child.’

Jo rolled her eyes again. ‘Like I said, Toni, no offence, but you’re a bit naïve. Don’t you realise that some people just want it all?’