For the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t really concentrate for worrying about what I’d lost in the purse, but I was able to bury myself in the mindless writing of customer contact cards.

When I checked my phone I had a missed call from Tara. She was probably ringing to see if I’d finally flipped over the edge, after my rant to her voicemail the other day. I couldn’t face talking to her at the moment; I didn’t want to tell her about today’s crisis. I felt so completely incompetent.

I never thought I’d feel grateful to Bryony for giving me such a boring job, but it turned out to be the ideal task for getting me through the hours until I could finally leave for home. When the cards were finished, I picked up the stack and took them through to her office. She wasn’t in there, but the door was wide open so I went straight in and placed them neatly on the edge of her immaculate desk.

I’d just turned to leave when I noticed the door to the small store room in the corner was ajar. Something glistened as I moved, drawing my eye. I took a step towards it and then froze as I recognised what had caught my attention.

There, perched on the end of a shelf and just visible through the open door, was Evie’s silver-framed photograph. The one that had disappeared from my desk.

I stared, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

‘What are you doing in here?’

Bryony’s sharp, cool tones behind me made me visibly jump.

‘Oh! I was – I just brought you the contact cards through.’ I nodded to the neat stack I’d placed on her desk.

She folded her arms and leaned against the door frame.

‘It’s the second time I’ve found you in here, snooping around.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Kindly keep out of my office when I’m not here. And why are you looking at me like that?’

‘I just – well, something caught my eye in there,’ I stammered, looking back at the store room door. ‘It’s – it looks like Evie’s photograph, the one I had on my desk.’

‘What?’

She stalked by me on her killer heels and pushed the store room door open wider. ‘Where? Oh, here.’ She picked it up, looked at it and smiled, her face softening. ‘She’s a little sweetheart, isn’t she? What’s it doing in here?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, taking the photo from her outstretched hands. ‘I didn’t put it in here.’

‘Well, I certainly didn’t.’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t look at me like that, the cleaner probably found it lying around in the main office and put it in here for safekeeping.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘That must’ve been it.’

I’m assuming the cleaner would have known it belonged on my desk. After all, it had been there almost a full week before it disappeared.

‘You’d better take extra care where you put things in future.’ Bryony frowned as I moved towards the office door. ‘It seems that losing stuff is getting to be quite a habit of yours.’

I didn’t respond to Bryony’s veiled criticism, but carried on walking and went back to my desk. I sat for a moment, staring at Evie’s photograph, which I’d laid flat in front of me.

The door closing behind an exiting customer broke me out of my doleful reverie.

‘You OK there, Toni?’ Jo asked, her face creased with concern.

‘Sorry.’ I shook my head and smiled. ‘I’m fine. Just thinking about something Bryony said.’

‘You look upset,’ she said cautiously, as if she was worried about me bursting into tears. ‘Hope she hasn’t said anything to make your day even worse.’

‘No, she hasn’t. She said something that’s made me think, though. Look.’ I held up the ‘lost’ framed photograph. ‘It was in Bryony’s store cupboard.’

Jo pulled a puzzled face. ‘What was it doing in there?’

‘Bryony said the cleaner might’ve put it in there. She reckons I’ve got a problem with losing stuff.’

‘That’s not fair.’ Jo frowned. ‘Anyone can lose a purse.’

‘It’s not just the purse though, is it?’ I shrugged. ‘This photo went missing from my desk, and then, at home, I keep forgetting important times and stuff. I mean, what if I’m losing my marbles and I don’t realise?’

Jo laughed and shook her head.

‘Toni, you might be a bit scatty because you’ve got a lot on, but I’m willing to bet you’re still sane. Mostly, anyway.’

I smiled at her quip but then my face fell again. ‘Sometimes I worry I’m not coping very well,’ I said, surprising myself that I was actually voicing this worry. ‘I’m a crap mum to Evie at the moment, too.’

Jo shook her head. ‘You’re too hard on yourself, love. We’ve all done stuff we’re not proud of. Jeez, I know that more than anyone.’

She must have been referencing her past. I stayed quiet, wondering if she’d elaborate, but she didn’t say anything else.

‘I just – I don’t know. I hate this feeling of not being in control of myself, of what happens.’

‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ she replied, but I doubted she did.

She didn’t know about the tablets and the gaps in my memory. And I certainly wouldn’t be mentioning that. I didn’t say anything else, letting the whole subject go.

But underneath, something was still niggling at me. Something didn’t feel right.