‘The police?’

Graham is surprised. He readjusts his tie, loosening the knot slightly and sitting up straighter in his office chair as if I’m the police, instead of simply mentioning them.

‘We had a break-in at home yesterday,’ I explain. ‘The glazier patched things up first thing – which I texted you about – and then the police were a bit late. I would’ve called but they were busy taking statements and the like. I have to go back to the station tomorrow morning to give a few more details.’

It’s a lie that comes to me on the spot but it’s perfect. Who’s going to argue with that?

Graham’s frown softens. ‘But everything’s all right?’

‘I was a bit shaken last night but, y’know… The police say there’s been a series of break-ins in the area…’

I tail off, letting it hang there, not wanting to overdo it too much. It’s not like I’m going to burst into tears and cry about the unfairness of life. He doesn’t need to know that nothing was taken and it was probably Dan or I who left the back door unlocked in any case.

I can imagine Natasha along the hallway, ears pricked waiting for the sound of raised voices.

Graham shuffles through the Post-it notes on his desk, picking them up and re-sticking them until he finds the one he’s after. His face is reddy-purple and it’s hard to tell if it’s redder than usual. He has a beetroot sort of glow at the best of times but, when he gets worked up, it looks like he’s about to pop.

‘Luke,’ he says. ‘What’s going on with him?’

‘I’ve not heard back since our aborted meeting on Monday night. He’s not answering his phone or replying to texts or emails. I’m not sure what else to do. I guess he’s not interested.’

Graham starts to chew on the inside of his mouth, screwing up his cheeks as he does so, as if it’s something particularly gristly.

‘What about this Declan from yesterday?’

‘Hasn’t he emailed? I thought he’d be in contact today…?’

Graham shifts his mouse around, squints at his screen and then shakes his head. ‘He’s not contacted me.’

I admit that I’ve not heard from him either – and then Graham starts drumming his fingers on the desk. I’ve seen this before and it’s never a good sign. Graham is a salesperson’s best friend while things are going well; but I’ve seen him turn when things aren’t working out. Over the years, I’ve avoided many of his mood swings, maintaining enough of a sales record to be unspectacularly satisfactory. Other people take the bonuses – but other people get fired as well.

Never me.

He pushes a sheet of A4 across the desk, saying nothing but making his point. The fact he’s printed it off means it has to be serious. I pick it up and scan the rows and columns. There are typos – which means Graham almost certainly created the spreadsheet himself – but that in itself tells a story. I’m in trouble.

‘There’s a second page,’ he says, passing another sheet of paper across his desk.

I read the second and, if anything, it spells even more trouble than the first.

‘What have you got to say?’ Graham asks.

I take a breath and re-read the first sheet, looking for even the slimmest glimmer of hope. It’s not there.

‘Is there anything I should know about?’ he adds.

I bristle at his words and try not to show it. Is there anything he should know? The obvious answer is no. My life away from the office is none of his damned business. Of course there’s nothing he should know. There are things he could know – but that isn’t what he asked.

The first page shows the company’s sales since the beginning of the year. I’m rock-bottom – and not by a little bit. I’ve got a third of the sales of Mark, who’s at the top; and only a little bit over half of what Claire has done. She’s second from bottom. I’m the very bottom of the chasm. After me, there’s zero. Natasha is only a little below Mark, the complete cow.

The second of the A4 sheets is an annual report of my sales in terms of pounds. It’s steady for the first few years and then starts a slow decline until the final year – this one – which is like a lemming plunging from a cliff.

So, no, there’s nothing he should know – but I need some way of explaining this utter shambles.

‘My husband and I are separating,’ I say.

It’s the second time in as many minutes that I’ve surprised him and Graham almost falls off his seat. I’m not quite sure what he was trying to do but I think it was to appear intimidating but he leant forward at the wrong time, his elbow slipping off the desk and almost sending him head first into the keyboard. He just about catches himself and then straightens his shirt as if it never happened.

‘Oh,’ he replies. ‘Well, I suppose I know something about that…’

‘I’ve not told many people.’

Graham relaxes into his seat and takes a large breath. I wonder if he was going to fire me, or simply rant and rave for a bit. He’s never been the best motivator and his man-management is along the lines of having a few in the pub after work alongside a tipsy ‘sort it out’. Either that or a shoutathon in his office.

The red is fading from his cheeks and it feels like I’ve avoided the worst of the telling-off. He’d probably spent the morning building up to this, so it’ll be a let-down for him.

He runs a hand across his scalp and there’s a moment where I wonder if he might be about to try it on with me. Ask me out for a drink, or something. By anyone’s standards, it would be fast work.

That’s not it at all, though. It’s wishful thinking that anyone might look at me in that way and there’s an odd ambiguity that I don’t want anything to happen with Graham – but I’d still appreciate that feeling of being wanted.

Graham stares off to the side at his wall of photos of himself. He takes a few seconds, probably considering his words. He slumps slightly in his chair and sighs.

‘Do you need time?’ he asks. ‘I know I did after me and Isobel broke up.’

His sudden sadness is such a shift of direction that I’m lost for words. He’s shrunk in front of me and the red in his face has faded back to flesh.

‘I, um…’ It’s such a surprising offer that I have no idea how to respond. I think it’s startled him as well.

‘It’s fine if you do. I didn’t realise you were having problems.’

‘Perhaps in the future,’ I say. ‘I’m okay for the moment. I know things haven’t been going well this year but I’m hoping things will settle down.’

He examines me carefully and then nods slowly. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘I think work will help take my mind off everything. It’s been a complicated few months as we try to sort everything out.’

He snorts. ‘At least you’ve got your own job. Isobel took half of everything – and she hadn’t worked a day in her life. Shouldn’t be allowed.’

I say nothing, not wanting to point out that running a home is a job as well. I know Graham owns a house that an estate agent would describe as ‘spacious’, so keeping that in a decent state would take plenty of hours.

I gently slide the chair backwards. ‘I’ll try calling that Declan again,’ I say.

‘If there’s anything else I can do…’

I’m already out of the chair when it strikes me that if ever there was a time to ask a tricky question, then it’s now. Graham is rarely in this forlorn a mood as it is, let alone when he’s feeling sorry specifically for me.

‘Can I ask something?’ I say.

He nods, hard to read.

I touch the papers that I’ve left on his desk. ‘I know this isn’t the best time what with this and all…’

‘Speak now or forever hold your peace.’

‘It’s just… with me separating from Dan… managing my money’s going to be a bit different.’

His eyes narrow and then he rocks back as he realises what I’m after. ‘You’re asking for a raise?!’

‘I know my figures are leaning the wrong way, but perhaps if I can hit some targets, we could decide on a bonus? That sort of thing. Dan’s going to have his money and I’ll have mine. My daughter’s eighteen now, so child support isn’t really in play – and then we have to figure out what to do with the house. I think—’

He holds up a hand to stop me. ‘I’ve been through all this with Isobel,’ he says. ‘I don’t need to hear it all again.’ He bites his lip, shakes his head, but it’s more in pity than annoyance. ‘Look, I’ll think about it. You sort your numbers out and I’ll see what I can do.’ He nods at the door. ‘Now, for the love of God, go sell some systems.’