I arrive in the staff car park ten minutes earlier than usual and inspect my puffy eyes in the rear-view mirror.

I resorted to a darker eyeliner this morning in an attempt to define them, and also used some sparkling eye drops, but there’s no escaping the bleariness.

I usually wash and style my hair every day; it’s a thin and lifeless mess otherwise. This morning, though, I just couldn’t face the palaver. Instead, I’ve scraped it back into a low ponytail at the nape of my neck and pinned back the wispy side bits with a couple of Maisie’s glitter hair grips. Perks of being mum to a fashion-conscious pre-teen, I suppose.

Since qualifying as a paralegal, I’ve made a real effort to sharpen up my image, ditching the comfy skirts and trousers paired with tunic tops in favour of shift dresses with matching jackets and a couple of serviceable trouser suits in black and navy that I can brighten up with a silky blouse and heels.

Today, a far more casual outfit of baggy black trousers, flat pumps and an ill-fitting floral top has made a comeback. Damn Joanne Dent and her perfect image and perfect career. Overnight, the stuff I admired her for has started taunting me. I just don’t know what the two of them are thinking, getting involved on a romantic level. It’s messy. Very messy.

I heard Shaun leave the house at six this morning. I fought the urge to jump out of bed and scream out of the window at him.

This wouldn’t be usual behaviour from me, but everyone has their limits and he’s managed to push me well beyond mine.

It’s my job to take Maisie to school for her breakfast club, leaving me plenty of time to get to the office for my start time of 8.30. I had thought Shaun might offer to take her in today, as a sort of peace offering. But no. He’d had no problem at all in getting himself out of the house and away from my planned scorn at breakfast. It was like he’d suddenly grown a pair overnight.

Then, unexpectedly, in he waltzed again at 7.40, just in time to take her.

‘Get your bag, princess. I’ll whizz you to school.’

‘Yesss!’ Maisie was delighted. She much prefers Shaun’s roomy car and the fact that he’s willing to play her favourite playlist at full volume all the way there, with no interrogation about last night’s homework.

I’ve parked up at the far end of Walker, Dent and Scott’s neatly marked-out staff bays, facing the hawthorn hedge that acts as a barrier to the pavement running alongside. The leaves look cool and green against the backdrop of a cloudy sky; it seems so simple and uncomplicated, compared to the difficult situation that awaits me inside the building. Like it or not, I’m going to have to face Joanne at some point today.

I close my eyes and allow myself a couple of deep, calming breaths before grabbing my handbag and walking across the car park as confidently as I can manage.

Joanne’s office overlooks the car park. She might well be looking out of the window at this very second. Just the thought of it has the fury sticking in my throat like crushed nut shells.

I swallow it down. I can’t afford to let this affect my career, and although it’s a complication I didn’t want or envisage, Shaun is effectively a free agent.

Damn him for rushing into it, though, after agreeing that a stable home life was of paramount importance to our daughter.

My chest feels tight and my legs seem a bit shaky as I move quickly towards the building.

I don’t know if Joanne knows I know yet.

Working out how I’m going to play it is sending my anxiety levels sky high. It shouldn’t be me that’s on the back foot here. I’ve done nothing wrong.

As I approach the rear entrance, I glance up at Joanne’s office window again, but it’s shaded by a white slatted blind. Inside the cool building I pass the small communal kitchen on the right and climb the stairs to the first floor, pausing to stow my handbag in my locker.

This floor houses the admin staff, paralegals and the two trainee solicitors. The second floor belongs to the practising solicitors and the three partners, including Joanne’s own smart glass office.

I’m not the only one who’s in early today. Three or four people are already at their desks, looking busy, but I don’t miss the lightning-fast look that two of the other paralegals shoot each other before smiling too widely at me.

When I turn on my monitor and log in, everyone seems very busy and yet there’s this kind of crackle in the air. As if I’m the last person to learn what’s happening between my husband and Joanne. I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining it.

While my emails are loading up, I open up the webinar and put in my earphones. Maybe if I can scan the legal updates, I can somehow blag my way through the meeting. Joanne is razor sharp, so she’ll know instantly that I haven’t done the required legwork, but I’d do well to remember that the reason I didn’t sleep well last night was because of her.

An internal message box flashes up on my screen.

I feel eyes burning into my back, and sure enough, when I turn quickly to glance around, everyone hurriedly looks back at their paperwork.

They know. They all know, I’m certain of it.

It feels like my skin is on fire. I push my chair back and stand up quickly, somehow knocking over the glass of water on my desk.

I stride over to the filing cabinet closest to me, snatch up the box of tissues next to a dusty pot plant and mop up the water as best I can. Fortunately it hasn’t touched the keyboard.

After binning the soggy tissues, I send my monitor to sleep and head out of the office and up the stairs to the second floor.

If I turn around now, I know they’ll all be staring open-mouthed, so I don’t. I don’t turn around; I just put one heavy foot in front of the other and propel myself closer and closer to Joanne Dent’s office.