By the time I’ve dropped Maisie off at school, to my shame, I’ve managed to swear at one driver who pulled out in front of me, forcing me to stamp on the brakes, and sound my horn continuously at another who cut me up on the approach into town.

I feel fury and confusion burning inside me like hot coals. It was a miracle I was able to get Maisie to school without snapping her head off when she asked me twice more where her dad had been last night.

‘I told you, he must be delayed on a job,’ I explained yet again, waving Maisie’s concern away.

I felt bad dropping her off without giving her an explanation, but why should I let Shaun off the unpleasantness of explaining that he’s decided to move out? He deserves to go through that emotional process, see the devastation he’s causing first-hand.

I drive to work, the thoughts whirring around in my head without respite.

I miss having someone to talk to. I miss my friends, didn’t even realise how badly I was neglecting them and distancing myself. I was always too busy with work when they called to invite me out for lunch or suggested coffee and cake at the small independent café in town we once favoured.

I didn’t even notice when they stopped calling, so embroiled was I in the pressures of life.

As my marriage slowly disintegrated, I tried to keep up a dogged determination, to the exclusion of everything else, to enable me to complete my qualification and cement my career prospects at Walker, Dent and Scott.

I found it was so much easier to just stay away from people, away from their claims on my time. More importantly, it enabled me to avoid their probing questions about me and Shaun, even though they were well meant.

At the time, I just didn’t feel strong enough to talk about it. I found it preferable to simply turn the other way.

So when I found myself confiding in Joanne about the breakdown of my marriage, it felt like a release of pent-up steam. It was a relief.

Now, of course, I only feel regret that I trusted her.

When I arrive at the office, I dump my bag and files on my desk and, avoiding the curious stares that I can feel boring into the back of my head, head back out and up the stairwell.

I stride across the air-conditioned, carpeted second floor, my heels muted as I pass office doors on my way to the glass offices of the glitterati, who sit at desks with their backs to the sprawling views across the city.

I can see that Joanne is poring over a spread of documents on her desk. As I approach her door, Anya pops her head out of her own office.

‘Can I help you, Emma?’ she asks pleasantly.

‘I just wanted a quick word with Joanne,’ I say. ‘I need to give her an update on my meeting with a client yesterday.’

‘I see.’ Anya clasps her hands together in front of her. ‘Well, she’s asked me to ensure she’s not disturbed this morning.’

‘Ah.’ I glance at Joanne through the glass, but she still appears to be absorbed in the papers on her desk. ‘No problem. I’ll catch up with her later.’

I turn and walk back down the carpeted length of the offices, suddenly furious with myself for being so easy to get rid of. I’m two or three steps down the stairs when I realise that Anya keeps Joanne’s diary. If my boss really is busy, I’d be better off making an appointment to see her later on today, or possibly tomorrow morning. There are things that need saying. Important things.

I head back up to the second floor. As soon as I enter the office space, I see that Joanne is out of her room and talking to Anya in the carpeted area.

‘Joanne!’ I call brightly, and she visibly jumps, shrinking back towards her door when she turns and spots me.

‘Oh, Emma. It’s you.’

Anya quickly interjects. ‘I did explain to Emma that you’re busy and don’t want to be disturbed, Joanne.’

‘It’s fine,’ I say, sounding breezier than I feel. ‘I just came back to make an appointment to see you – later, perhaps, or tomorrow. There are some important things I need to discuss… about one of the cases.’

Judging by Joanne’s slightly jumpy demeanour, she knows exactly what I mean.

‘Actually, as Anya has already said, I’m really pushed at the moment, Emma,’ she tells me. ‘Could you feed back to the lead paralegal on the case? I think that’s going to be the best strategy here as I’ve got new clients coming out of my ears right now. Not complaining, of course, it’s just how things are at the moment.’

She smiles at me, showing whitened teeth, her lips stretching so wide it almost looks like a grimace.

Her phone rings and she glances down at the lit screen in her hand.

‘I… I have to go. Sorry.’ She backs into her office and pushes the still-ringing phone into the side of her thigh, screen down.

A few seconds later, her door closes and she turns around, pressing the phone to her ear.

I wait in the corridor, staring at Joanne through the glass, ignoring Anya’s requests for us to look at the diary together. When Joanne has finished her call, I tap on the door.

She glares at me, her jaw set. I open the door.

‘I only need a few minutes. I’m sure you’re aware there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

My knees feel a bit shaky, but my anger bolsters me and I stand firm.

She hesitates for a moment or two, tips her head to one side. I can’t identify the expression on her face, but it seems to be laced with dread.

‘You’d better take a seat.’

While I walk across the office and sit down, she bends her head, scribbling on a typed document. Expensive gold and beige highlights glittering prettily under the light above her remind me I’m well overdue for a colour and cut myself.

She’s purposely making me wait. It seems so childlike.

I look away, around the office. It’s dim in here; Joanne always keeps the blinds half closed, as if she’s hiding away from something.

The room is very minimalist in its design. Stark white walls, limed oak furniture and filing cabinets that look like tall, glossy taupe sideboards. It’s got a rather cold feel; the only concession to softness is a handful of potted cacti dotted here and there.

I wonder if her house interior is similar. Shaun likes simple, clean lines; he always complained about the clutter lying around at home. Clutter that won’t offend his eyes any more.

Joanne herself matches the environment. She is a very attractive woman with lightly tanned skin and an enviable ability to wear minimal make-up and still look fully groomed.

She doesn’t go for high heels; prefers black Gucci sliders paired with exquisitely tailored dark trouser suits and simple, well-cut silk blouses in various colours that flatter her boyish figure.

I get the feeling her reserved and slightly masculine style is a lot about her job. Once, in a meeting, she slid a bare foot out of her shoe to reveal orange glittery toenails. That told me she has a fun side out of the office. I’m sure Shaun sees lots of that side of her personality.

I don’t know her exact age, but she once told me in a meeting that she’s in her mid-thirties. I’m guessing the framed photograph on her desk I can only see the back of is of Piper.

Inferiority curls at the bottom of my spine, as it is prone to do when I meet someone who’s around my age and has achieved so much more in their career than I have.

As I sit here with Joanne, I’m woefully aware of my own shortcomings.

‘Emma?’

‘Sorry!’ I shake my head. ‘I was lost in thought.’

She taps the end of her slimline silver pen on the desk.

‘You seem pretty adamant you need to speak to me about something.’

She’s playing a game. She must know full well why I’m here.

‘Shaun told me he’s moving in with you, but you probably know what was said.’ She doesn’t react. ‘I just wanted you to know that I might not be able to get as much extra work done on the new cases as I’d hoped. As you can imagine, having a ten-year-old yourself, it’s not easy to wear all the hats all of the time.’

‘It’s not easy at all,’ Joanne says curtly. ‘It’s tough. I’ve done it for a long time myself, Emma.’

Her face remains impassive, but that doesn’t stop me. The words are rushing out now, and with them comes a sense of relief.

‘It’s marvellous, isn’t it?’ I continue. ‘All these years of Shaun having no confidence in himself, and now he suddenly turns into Mr Charisma, but I suppose, having just met, you won’t have seen the other side of him yet.’

I laugh, but it sounds harsh and out of place.

‘I agreed to speak with you this morning to clear the air, but I’ve no intention of getting involved in a slanging match, now or indeed ever.’ Joanne glares at me. ‘Say what you need to say, Emma, and then let’s agree to draw a line. Otherwise…’

‘Otherwise what?’

‘Otherwise it’s obviously going to be very difficult for us to work together.’ And I’m not going anywhere, so watch your step is the passive-aggressive subtext I receive.

‘Does Piper see her dad?’

Joanne stiffens in her chair. ‘Sorry, what do you mean?’

‘Does Piper also visit her father, like Maisie will have to do, to see Shaun?’

‘I’d rather leave conversations about Piper’s dad out of this.’ Joanne bristles.

‘I… I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wondered if—’

‘Emma.’ Joanne hesitates, pressing her hands down on the top of her desk. ‘Just calm down a little.’ Then, unexpectedly, she asks, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Thanks,’ I say, tears suddenly choking the words that want to keep coming.

She makes some sort of signal through the glass wall of the office, and as if by magic, a minute or two later Anya brings in a tray bearing two cups of tea. She regards me warily as she places one in front of me.

‘Thanks, Anya,’ I say, subdued.

I pick it up and take a sip, and catch a look that shoots at lightning speed between Joanne and Anya. I don’t know what it means, but I can guess. If she’s not gone in five minutes, interrupt with an urgent phone call.

When Anya has left the office, Joanne sits back in her chair.

‘Look, Emma. I’m only too aware of how the pressures of one’s personal life can seep into the working day. I understand that, I really do.’

My fingers grip the handle of my cup too hard as I wait for the ‘but’.

‘But I think it’s best we avoid talking about our private lives here. I totally get that things are very difficult for all of us. I’m sure that once everything’s resolved, you’ll soon feel your old self again.’

I should leave it there. She’s trying to be reasonable and nice. But in that moment, I feel like I hate her and I can’t let it go.

‘I don’t think you appreciate the effect this is going to have on my daughter. You two have literally just met. Surely you have reservations about him moving in so quickly?’

‘That’s none of your business, Emma. This is totally inappropriate.’

I laugh. ‘Yes, it is. You two are being totally inappropriate and unprofessional, acting like a couple of teenagers who—’

‘Stop right there.’ She looks furious and glances through to Anya’s empty office, obviously desperate to get rid of me now.

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I say, trying to backtrack. ‘It’s just so hard, trying to work and sorting out care for Maisie. I’m worried how all this will affect her.’

‘It’s my belief that children are very resilient.’

‘Yes, but it’s not your daughter who’s going to suffer, is it?’

‘Leave Piper out of this.’ Her expression is grim, and I sense I’ve crossed a line, mentioning the untouchable, perfect Piper. ‘As far as work goes, which is all I’m prepared to discuss in this office, I’m willing to give you a bit of breathing space. You only had to ask.’

Such empathy when she’s the cause of the upheaval in my life, I think bitterly.

‘I just want Maisie to be happy.’ My voice breaks slightly. ‘It’s going to be a big change for her.’

‘Maisie will be fine. I’ll look after her as if she’s my own. You’ve no worries at all on that score.’ Joanne smiles and tips her head slightly to one side. ‘Now, Emma. If you don’t mind, I really need to get on.’