By Sunday night, there was still no word from Nathan. That was fine by me. I had more pressing concerns, namely the hurdle of returning to work. What had he told them in his resignation letter? Would our colleagues realise we’d split up? Well, I’d find out soon enough.

I did, however, get a call from Kate, back from sunning herself in the Maldives with her man.

‘Was it spectacularly wonderful?’ I asked her.

‘Oh, Emmy, it was fabulous. Five star hotel, wonderful beach, great food... Lots of sex. How about you?’

I snorted out a laugh. ‘You’re asking me how much sex I had on holiday?’ Little does she know.

‘No, silly. I got your text saying you were staying another week. What’s all that about? Shall I come round?’

I needed smiles and sanity and wine. ‘God, yes.’

Two hours later, we were curled on the sofa with a bottle of white, and Kate was up to speed on everything – and I mean everything. Even Ryan and Alain. It was such a relief to be able to talk to someone who knew me inside out, without worrying about the consequences. Laughter and tears ensued.

‘God, Emmy. Can’t I leave you for two minutes without your life turning upside-down?’ she concluded.

I laughed. ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

She fingered the pendant at my throat. ‘That is so beautiful! Rupert must think an awful lot of you.’ She hesitated. ‘This proposal of his, for want of a better word. You say it’s mad, but are you secretly considering it, somewhere in that twisted subconscious of yours?’

Like I said – she knew me too well.

‘I’m trying hard not to,’ I told her. ‘I mean, it’s in there, but I’m trying to keep it buried. My common sense is telling me it’s idiotic. But Rupert says I should “follow my heart”.’ I made quote marks in the air.

‘And what does your heart say?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m refusing to listen to it right now. I need to get back to work, Kate. At least I won’t have to face Nathan there, but it’s still going to be pretty weird. I have a presentation coming up. I can’t afford to let my mind wander off into the clouds.’

‘And what about Alain?’

I glared at her. ‘What about him?’

‘Come on, Emmy. It’s obvious your fling with Ryan was just that... And I enjoyed the titillation very much, by the way. I never had you down as the type to roll around in the shrubbery!’

I swiped at her, but she carried on undaunted. ‘Alain, though... Now that sounds like something with real possibilities.’ She sipped her wine, then burst out laughing. ‘I can’t believe you’ve fallen for another accountant, after everything that’s happened with Nathan!’

‘I haven’t fallen for him, Kate. He’s just... Well, I suppose he’s the sort of bloke I could see myself going out with way down the line, if I ever feel up to dipping a toe in the water of relationships again.’ Definitely time to change the subject. ‘Now, are you going to show me these sickening photos of paradise from your hols or not?’

On the commute to work on Monday morning, crushed between a man determined to read his fully-spread newspaper and an old dear who thought it was a good idea to bring her dog for a ride in rush hour, trepidation coiled in my stomach. I felt disorientated, as though I’d forgotten how to do my job. I’d never taken such a long time off before. France and Rupert and La Cour des Roses were still bright and colourful in my mind, while work felt blurry and faded and out-of-focus.

There were too many early birds to walk past to get to my desk, and I told myself I was only imagining the curious stares as I draped my jacket across the back of my chair. With something bordering on despair, I took in the mountain of crap dumped on my desk. I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight. I clutched at the back of the chair. Another panic attack.

Heaven forbid I should be allowed to enjoy it in peace. Carl shot out of his office the second I’d lowered myself onto my seat.

‘Emmy. Welcome back. I need a word.’

I followed him into his office, gulping at the recycled air pumped out by his permanently malfunctioning air-conditioning unit.

‘Take a seat.’ He sat behind his desk, his fingers drumming agitatedly on the fake wood. ‘You look like crap, Emmy.’

‘Thanks, Carl.’ He hadn’t been on any training courses for tact while I was away, then. ‘Long journey, that’s all.’

‘Everything alright now? Your friend okay?’

So far, so good.

‘Not bad, thanks. The extra week really helped. I appreciate it, Carl. I know it was inconvenient, but...’

He waved away my thanks with a flap of his hand. ‘Don’t worry about it, Emmy. If it couldn’t be helped, it couldn’t be helped. I know you’ll do whatever it takes to catch up.’

I held back a sigh. Carl would make sure the full three weeks got taken off my holiday allowance, but I would still be expected to work all the hours God sent to make the time up. I didn’t know why they bothered giving you a holiday entitlement at all.

‘You know I will. As always.’

‘Right, well, we’ll need to go through everything. I’ll fill you in on Dave’s presentation to the Kellys, maybe later this morning. I’ll let you settle in first.’

How gracious. ‘Thanks.’

‘There’s something else.’ Carl looked distinctly uncomfortable, and my heart started thumping so hard in my chest, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had broken loose and skittered across his desk. This had to be about Nathan.

‘It’s about Nathan.’

‘Oh?’ I tried for a noncommittal tone. No point in giving anything away yet. Indeed, since I had very little idea what was going on myself, there wasn’t much I could give away.

‘Emmy, you must appreciate that the extra week you took made things difficult for me, especially after the way Nathan’s behaved. But I’m on your side. I’ve made it clear to the powers-that-be that you’re a valued member of this department and must be treated as an individual. You shouldn’t be tarred with the same brush as Nathan just because you live together.’

My frown became a wide-eyed stare. I was puzzled by the idea that he thought Nathan and I were still together despite Nathan’s sudden move to London. Carl had always had about as much understanding of personal issues as a grain of sand, but surely even he must have worked it out.

‘Once the dust has settled, I’m sure people will understand that his poor decisions shouldn’t reflect on you,’ he went on, oblivious to my consternation. ‘I only hope you can cope with the extra pressure at home.’

‘Extra pressure?’

‘Well, I can’t imagine it’ll be easy with Nathan commuting to London every day. I wouldn’t like to think it might put any strain on you and affect your work. We care here, but we do run a business, after all. We can only give so much leeway...’ He finally faltered.

I reached for the water jug on his desk, poured myself a glass and drank shakily. ‘Carl, I need you to do me a favour and answer some questions for me.’

‘What for?’

I rubbed at my temples where a headache was forming. ‘Just humour me for now, okay?’

‘Okay.’ His confusion was as transparent as mine must be. ‘What do you need to know?’

‘When did Nathan resign?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘No. When?’

‘The day after you rang me. He sent an e-mail to Derek giving his notice.’

‘He’s not been back in?’

‘No.’

‘Why isn’t he working out his notice?’

Carl shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘He’s defected to a rival company, Emmy. We couldn’t be seen to be chasing after him, nor could we allow him back in the office. Too dangerous.’

‘I see.’ Carl had practically made me beg for the extra week – and yet here they were, blithely accepting Nathan’s unorthodox resignation because it suited them not to have their industry secrets exposed to a rival company. Ah, the mysteries of private enterprise.

‘It’s not our preferred way of going about things and he won’t get a reference, of course,’ Carl added, keen to stop me thinking they’d allowed Nathan to get away with murder.

Something jolted in my brain, setting off a rollercoaster of confused thoughts. Nathan had e-mailed while he was in France. How could he have got a job in London while he was still over there? With no reference?

‘So how did he get the job?’ Might as well ask straight out. I’d already proved I was in the dark. One more question couldn’t hurt.

But Carl was beginning to tire of my questions. ‘I have no idea, Emmy. I presume he must have contacts we didn’t know about. Now, I think I’ve been patient enough. How can you not know any of this? What’s going on?’

I took a deep breath and reviewed my options. There didn’t appear to be many. ‘Nathan and I split up while we were away.’

Carl sat up straight in his chair, shock and the desire for gossip warring openly on his face. ‘You did? When?’

‘The end of the first week.’

‘But you said... So all you told me on the phone...’

‘I didn’t lie to you, Carl. I was staying with a friend and he was in genuine need. At the same time, Nathan and I separated. He went to stay elsewhere and I stayed to help the friend.’

Carl’s eyes narrowed as he presumably weighed up how much he believed me. ‘What on earth brought that on? You and Nathan have been together for ages!’

I hesitated. Nathan leaving the company in such a dramatic fashion must have led to a fair bit of speculation (other than by Carl, who was a complete numbskull) and I didn’t mind people knowing Nathan and I were no longer together. But the ignominious nature of Nathan’s betrayal was nobody’s business but mine and his, and I wanted to keep it that way.

‘We’d grown apart, nothing more to it than that. The holiday showed us we didn’t want the same things any more.’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it. Happens all the time. Now, if it’s okay with you, I think I should start making an effort to scale Mount Everest back there on my desk.’

‘Fine. I’ll be out in a bit to go through it with you.’

I rose from my chair, headed for the door, then decided a little spine was in order and turned back.

‘Oh, and Carl? About Nathan and me being tarred with the same brush? I wouldn’t have appreciated it even if we were still together. We weren’t joined at the hip. But since we’re not together, I won’t take any crap about the way he’s chosen to behave. Any discrimination against me, and I’ll take it as far as I can go. Do I make myself clear?’

The shock on Carl’s face was plain to see. I’d never spoken to him that way before. Usually, I allowed him to be the big boss while I chipped away making things the way I wanted them, letting him think it was his idea all along. This sort of plain speaking was not within our usual limited range, but my time away had given me three weeks’ perspective. It was time to stand up for myself. Besides, since I did half his workload on top of my own, Carl couldn’t afford to alienate me.

I’d barely got back to my chair when Cathy, one of the marketing assistants and unofficially my deputy, came over to perch on the edge of my desk.

‘Emmy, it’s great to have you back!’

‘Thanks.’ I grinned. ‘How’s it been?’

She lowered her voice. ‘Bloody nightmare. Carl’s been like a bear with a sore head the whole time you were away. So, how was your holiday?’

‘It was okay, thanks. Hard work, you know, with this friend to look after.’

‘What about Nathan’s new job? Is he enjoying it?’

I took a deep breath. No doubt I was doomed to have this conversation numerous times over the next few days. Or maybe not. If Cathy relayed it back to everyone, it would save me the bother.

Might as well get it over with. ‘I have no idea. We broke up.’

Her eyes went wide with shock. ‘Oh my God, Emmy! We assumed he’d be commuting to London. Carl told us you’d taken the extra week to look after a sick friend!’

‘I did. But Nathan and I also split up. I’m not unhappy about it, but I am happy for you to spread the word so I don’t have to.’ I gave her a pleading look. ‘Do you mind being the office gossip for a while?’

She patted my shoulder. ‘You can count on me.’

I gave her a wry smile. ‘Thanks. Now bugger off. I have things to do.’

At ten o’clock, Carl came out of his office to go through things – a euphemism for dumping all his deadlines and unwanted projects on me – and to discuss our follow-up plans for the Kelly account. As predicted, they had opted for the vintage route, and we needed to firm up ideas before the next presentation.

By eleven o’clock, it was as though I’d never been away. That was fine by me. I loved deadlines. I loved sinking my teeth into new projects – even Carl’s unwanted ones. I was grateful to be back in a routine, corralling the mayhem on my desk into some order of priority.

At lunchtime, I stuffed a sandwich into my mouth without even noticing the filling. No more leisurely lunches followed by a quiet doze. By two o’clock, my automatic pilot was fully operational and by five o’clock, the images in my mind had switched places. Work was now stark and monochrome and highly defined, and La Cour des Roses was faded and discoloured, like an old instant snap from my mother’s photograph albums.

But as that first week wore on, the routine lost its lustre a little. Up at six-thirty each morning, a rushed breakfast of cardboard cereal and cardboard toast, sweaty bodies jammed onto the train, raincoats smelling of soggy dogs. Daily phone calls with my mother to reassure her I wasn’t suicidal. Desultory attempts at evening nourishment – beans on toast, egg on toast, a takeaway so stodgy it made me feel sick. Sick to the stomach and sick at heart, because it was so far from the vine-ripened tomatoes and fresh vegetables and creamy cheeses I’d left behind.

I told myself it was natural to feel a little down after being on holiday.

At work, I’d expected a ton of stuff to catch up on and I’d expected awkwardness once people found out about Nathan and me. I got both. But I’d also expected to settle back into the hectic days I’d always enjoyed, and that wasn’t happening.

The job itself was fine – planning the presentation to the Kellys and getting the team on board, liaising with clients, troubleshooting. I liked the busyness and the challenge, same as ever.

What I didn’t like was fending off curious glances from colleagues – or worse, their frankly impertinent questions about Nathan’s sudden departure.

‘Hi, Emmy. Nice to see you back. So sorry to hear about you and Nathan.’ This from Hazel in the accounts department, on an innocent foray to the ladies’.

‘Thanks.’

‘Have you heard from him in London?’

Is it any of your business? ‘Well, I only got back at the weekend...’

‘Oh, yes. We heard you had to stay to look after a poorly friend. We thought it sounded odd.’

Who the hell was this collective “we”? I bristled. ‘Actually, I was looking after a poorly friend.’

‘Ah,’ she said, a knowing look sliding out from under her eyelashes. ‘A female friend?’

I held my temper. ‘No. A male friend.’ Her eyes lit up, and I hastened to put her straight. ‘An elderly male friend.’ I sent a silent apology through the ether to Rupert for referring to him as elderly, but I knew he would understand that this line of enquiry had to be stopped.

‘So, who’s this woman that got Nathan his new job, then?’

Talk about cutting to the chase. ‘Why, what have you heard on that impressive grapevine of yours?’

‘I know someone who moved to that company a couple of years ago. She rang to tell me another of ours defected to them. Got the job out of the blue, without it even being advertised. Rumour is, the woman who got him the job is a cousin of one of the directors and pulled a few strings. A friend of Nathan’s, is she?’

The mystery woman she’d referred to could only be Gloria. Swallowing down nausea, I spoke mildly. ‘I would hope so, if she went to all that trouble for him.’

I held onto the knowledge that the gossips would soon lose interest in me and that I had a slob session with Kate planned for Friday night.

She texted me on Thursday. Stinking cold. Sodding air conditioning on flight, probably. Sorry can’t come tomorrow. Don’t want to share! Kate xx

I immediately phoned Nick, declaring my intention to grab a train down to London after work on Friday and crash out at his place for the weekend.

God love my little brother, he didn’t bat an eye. ‘Er – right, fine. I – uh – need to cancel a couple of things.’

‘Oh, don’t cancel anything for me,’ I said knowingly. ‘I can tag along.’

I imagined I could hear him blush. ‘You know damn well you can’t.’

‘Nick, I don’t want to spoil your weekend,’ I whined.

‘Don’t worry, big sis, it’s nothing that won’t improve for the waiting. Absence makes the groin grow fonder and all that.’

I laughed. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

‘You know I don’t. What do you want to do?’

‘Popcorn, mindless action movies, large vats of wine – oh, and some decent food for a change. No ready-meal crap. I’ve had my fill of that here.’

I left work dead on time, a sin punishable by death on every day except Fridays, when there was a mass exodus for the door at five o’clock.

By the time I landed at Nick’s flat, which could kindly be described as bijou, I was tired and grumpy. He gave me a sympathetic hug, steered me to the sofa, propped me up with cushions, placed a large glass of Pinot Grigio in my hand, a tray of deli delicacies between us, and switched on a mayhem-ridden movie. Perfect.

While Nick tossed and turned on the sofa, I wallowed in his king-size bed and had the first proper night’s sleep I’d had since arriving back in England.

On Saturday, we took the tube to the National Gallery, not because it was my favourite art museum – although I was happy to pay it at least, oh, twenty minutes’ respect before I got bored – but because I liked the café there. Nick, grateful that he wasn’t being dragged on a self-pity-fuelled shopping spree, happily tagged along and even paid for the coffee and fancy cakes.

‘Do you like your work, Nick?’ I asked him as we sat basking in the weak sunshine leaking through the windows.

‘Most of the time. Depends where I’m working and what I’m working on.’

Nick did something with computers that was frankly beyond my comprehension, but I gathered he was a genius at it, because he’d already built up a fearsome reputation and operated on a consultancy basis. This netted him twice the money he would have earned working at one firm and allowed him to take as much time off as he required or could afford – with the added bonus of meeting a large number of women as he flitted from place to place like a bachelor butterfly, tasting the flowers on offer but never committing himself to one in particular.

‘Why, don’t you like yours?’ he asked.

‘Of course I do. Only...’ I searched for a way to describe what I felt. ‘You know how you watch an old film because you remember seeing it years ago and you loved it? But when you watch it again, it’s like watching a different film altogether because you’re seeing it with different eyes and it’s lost something, lost that magic somehow?’

Nick nodded and put the last of his cake on my plate. He was such a sweetie. ‘You could pick another movie. A brand new one.’

I polished off the cake. ‘I’m a bit worried about jumping from the frying pan into the fire right now.’

‘That’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you just need more time to get back into things.’

‘Maybe, but...’ I tried to put my finger on what was wrong. ‘I always thought I fitted in pretty well there. But since I got back from France, I feel like an outsider all of a sudden. I don’t know whether it’s to do with Nathan leaving the way he did, or people resenting the extra week’s holiday I took. Marketing’s okay, but people from accounts barely nod at me in passing, as though it’s all my fault that Nathan did what he did.’

Nick gave me a sympathetic look. ‘You’re gossip of the month. They’ll move onto someone else soon.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. But...’

Images floated into my mind. Jonathan embracing me and praising me to high heaven at the café the first time we met. Brenda and Richard, so friendly with me and my parents at the restaurant. Madame Dupont’s kindly acceptance of my plight and acknowledgement of my hard work. Sophie’s bubbly friendship. Rupert’s kitchen full of laughter and joshing banter and goodwill.

‘But?’ Nick prompted.

‘You know, I met a few people while I was at the guesthouse. Rupert’s friends and acquaintances.’

‘So?’

‘Well, I can’t understand how people I only met once or twice in France could be so warm and friendly and well-meaning, and yet people I’ve worked with for years can give me the cold shoulder and talk about me behind my back like this.’ My voice hitched a little.

Nick cocked his head to one side as he thought about it. ‘Maybe that has less to do with them and more to do with you.’

‘What do you mean? Are you saying this is all my fault now?’

‘Not at all. I’m saying they’ve probably always been that way, but you haven’t really noticed because you were so caught up in your work or with Nathan or it wasn’t directed at you.’ He paused. ‘You can ride it out, Emmy, but there’s nothing to stop you seeing what’s out there. You’re good at your job. I’m sure you could find another – preferably somewhere where they appreciate you more and treat you to the occasional pay rise. And it’s not as though you’re tied down by Nathan now.’

‘I’ll think about it. But I’ve been at that place ever since I left university, and I’ve worked damned hard to get to where I am. That’s a lot of time and energy devoted to one job. I’m not sure I’m ready to throw it all away yet.’

Nick shook his head. ‘You’re looking at it from the wrong angle, Emmy. You devoted your time and energy to developing your career, not necessarily that particular job. If they can’t offer you promotion, then maybe it’s time to find somewhere that can.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s not an easy job market out there.’

‘How about doing what I do?’ He held up a hand when I snorted. ‘I don’t mean exactly what I do – obviously – but you could try going freelance. There must be loads of places that need skills like yours on a temporary basis. You’d only need to market your talents properly – which, since you’re in marketing in the first place, shouldn’t be that hard to do, when you think about it.’

‘Hmm. It’s not exactly secure, is it? Living from one contract to the next. However Nathan and I wrap things up, I’ll still have rent or a mortgage to pay. Bills. Running a car. Living expenses.’

‘I manage alright.’

I swiped at him. ‘Yes, but you’re a genius and people fall over themselves to employ you.’

Nick reached across to ruffle my hair. ‘Poor, predictable Emmy. Isn’t it time you took a chance for a change?’

I thought about Rupert’s half-baked offer of a half-baked job, and his half-baked ideas for my half-baked business – but I suspected that wasn’t quite the high-flying freelancing lifestyle Nick had in mind.

Sunday morning saw heavy rain driving against the windows, so Nick and I curled up on the sofa with a large cafetière of coffee and a brick-sized pile of Sunday papers. Solicitous of my precarious state, he’d volunteered to get drenched going to the newsagent, a gesture which made me feel much loved.

As we lounged amidst the paper pigsty, I felt an unexpected wave of regret. This was how Nathan and I had spent our Sundays. Staring unseeingly at the article I’d been reading, I willed away tears before Nick looked up from the sports section.

Too late. ‘What’s up?’

My chin wobbled. ‘I was thinking about Nathan.’

‘And?’

‘This is how we spent our Sundays together.’ I imagined Nathan sitting in the armchair – imagined feeling cosy and comfortable with him, a companionable silence. I closed my eyes, wallowing in self-pity.

Nick came over to put his arm around my shoulders. ‘Do I detect rose-tinted specs this morning?’

Scrubbing away the tears with the back of my hand, I looked across at Nick’s empty chair. Now, in my mind’s eye, Nathan was oblivious to my presence, lost in the financial pages, murmuring at the odd thing I read out without looking up, not remotely interested in what I had to say. That Sunday ritual, so perfect for the first couple of years, had slowly deteriorated into an excuse to lose ourselves in our own worlds on the one day of the week when we had enough time to pay attention to each other.

I sighed. ‘Maybe.’