While Maisie is out with her dad at the cinema, I put an easy-listening playlist on Spotify, pour a glass of wine and allow myself the pure luxury of simply drifting, eyes closed, on the couch.

But it’s in that halfway house between wakefulness and sleep that the past seeps into my thoughts like wisps of poisonous gas…

It was an unusual day at Clayton and McCarthy, as the office was quiet. Quite a few of the more senior staff were attending a conference in Birmingham.

Damian announced authoritatively to the admin office that he had been left in charge for the day. ‘Mr McCarthy has asked me to allocate some case tasks that need to take precedence over anything else you might be doing.’

He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and read aloud from it.

‘OK, Andy, you’ll work with me today on witness statements; Candice, you’re to visit the court to pick up some papers. And Emma… I’ll need you to be on photocopying duties, please.’

The others glanced over at me and I felt my face ignite. This was exactly the kind of task the clerks should be dealing with. I was a legal secretary.

‘Surely one of the admin staff can do the photocopying,’ I said lightly. ‘I was hoping for something a bit more substantial.’

‘There’s no room for delusions of grandeur here, I’m afraid,’ Damian replied smugly. ‘We all have to muck in and get the job done.’

‘But nobody else is mucking in, are they?’ I struggled to keep my voice level. ‘Everyone else has been given something interesting to get their teeth into.’

A couple of the others glanced pointedly at each other and moved away to commence their own tasks.

Damian held his palms high to shut me up. ‘Just carrying out the bosses’ orders, that’s all. Barbara has all the files you’ll need upstairs. Thank you, Emma.’

With that, he turned his back and bent forward, busying himself shuffling paperwork on his desk.

I stalked back to my own desk and took my phone out of my drawer before heading upstairs.

As most people were at the conference, it was super quiet up there. I leaned against the wall for a moment in the corridor, reluctant to commence the mind-numbing job I’d been allocated.

Eventually I tapped on Barbara’s office door.

‘Morning, Emma!’ She appeared, small and mouse-like, in front of me. ‘Apparently you need some files from me.’

I nodded, forced a smile.

‘There we go.’ She plonked an armful of brown folders into my outstretched hands. Each one was stuffed with paperwork. ‘And that’s just for starters, I’m afraid.’

Glumly I trudged back downstairs and headed for the photocopier room. It was small and stuffy, but at least I didn’t have to work under the glare of Damian all morning.

At first I tried to scan each page to get an overview of the case, but after only ten minutes or so, the boring nature of the job took over and I became blind to the print on the pages.

After about an hour, I took a break to make coffee in the kitchenette downstairs.

I nodded at the receptionist, Janine, and took the short corridor on the right of her desk, slowing down when I heard Damian’s voice. He was speaking quietly, but I had good hearing and there was no mistaking his pompous tone.

‘The medical paperwork is being copied as we speak. Once the files are collated, that’s it, you’re in the clear. I have the original and there’ll be no trace of the change. Trust me.’

I tiptoed back down the corridor and out into reception again. I passed a couple of waiting clients and headed back upstairs to the photocopier room. There, I leafed through the files I’d already processed.

There were no medical papers in there. I started the next set of papers collating on the machine and began to methodically check the remaining folders.

My heartbeat raced when I opened one to find a clipped section of paperwork marked AlchoBio Metrics Ltd.

I rifled quickly through and soon established that this was a private breathalyser test that was admissible in court as evidence if requested. The detailed report concluded that although the client had alcohol in his bloodstream, it was well below the legal limit at the time of the accident.

The door opened and I quickly closed the folder and looked up.

‘How’s it going?’ Damian asked, eyeing the files.

‘Good. Everything is fine,’ I said quickly, busying myself with checking the collated paperwork.

‘I know you think I’m having a go, Emma, allocating you this task, but I gave it to you because I knew you’d get the job done with minimum fuss.’ He threw me a wolfish grin. ‘In its own way, this is probably the most important job of all.’

I nodded without commenting and turned back to the machine.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ he said, closing the door behind him.

I made myself an extra copy of the medical information, and when I’d copied the rest of the folders, I carried the pile out into the main office.

It was deserted.

I realised it was lunchtime. Nobody had bothered to ask if I wanted anything from the shop or fancied a walk to the café, as we often did.

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t worked there that long, but maybe it was time to make a fresh start somewhere else. As usual, Dad’s face floated into my mind’s eye, along with his critical words.

You’ll never amount to anything.

And then I had a light-bulb moment.

I remembered I’d seen Damian locking away some files earlier and dropping the tiny drawer key into the pot that held his pens.

After checking at the office door that nobody was yet on their way back from lunch, I walked across the office and peered into the red plastic pen holder on his desk.

I fished out the key and opened the drawer. There were three folders in there, the second one marked exactly like the one I had copied earlier.

I scanned through the paperwork inside and found the original medical results. When I perused the figures, I saw immediately what it was I was looking for.

My heart pumped with adrenalin; I was unsure whether I felt pleased or terrified by the information I had inadvertently uncovered.

I took a photograph of the original results with my phone, then replaced the file in Damian’s desk drawer and ensured the folders were back in exactly the order I’d found them.

Finally I locked the drawer again and dropped the key back into the pot.

Back at my own desk, I folded up my copy of the medical report and pushed it to the bottom of my handbag.

And then I waited.

When Shaun brings Maisie back home later than we agreed, it’s clear they aren’t speaking to each other.

‘What on earth’s the matter with her?’ I ask him as she storms into the house without even saying hello to me.

‘I’m afraid she’s been a bit of a madam, Em. I can’t explain now…’ He looks back at the road. The car engine is running and I notice for the first time that he has a passenger. ‘Joanne’s waiting and Piper’s fast asleep on the back seat. She’s exhausted, poor thing.’

‘I thought you and Maisie had gone out on your own, just the two of you.’

‘We met up with them later. Maisie really upset Piper, Em, she wasn’t nice. But look’ – he takes a step back on the path – ‘I’ll explain another time. I’ll call Maisie tomorrow and have a proper chat with her. In the meantime, maybe you can speak to her about how she might think about other people’s feelings.’

‘Hang on, you can’t just leave it like this. What happened?’

‘I’ll call,’ he says firmly before turning abruptly and walking back to the car. I raise my hand to acknowledge Joanne, but she must be looking the other way.

I close the door and call out to Maisie. She doesn’t answer, but I can hear music up in her bedroom.

I climb the stairs and tap on her door.

‘Only me,’ I say. ‘Turn the music off a moment, poppet. I want to talk to you.’

She presses a button and the music stops.

‘What happened with Dad today?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Maisie buries her face in her pillow.

I’m getting heartily sick of my daughter coming home in a terrible mood and nobody wanting to enlighten me as to what has been happening.

‘Did you upset Piper… or Joanne?’

‘No! She upset me but nobody cares about that!’ Her voice sounds muffled, but she won’t move her face from the pillow.

‘Come on, Maisie. I can’t help you if you won’t share stuff with me. What happened?’

She turns her face towards me and sits up in bed, clasping her hands together in front of her.

They hate me,’ she whispers, her eyes widening. ‘They both hate me.’

‘Don’t be silly! Nobody hates you. What happened?’

Her eyes are unfocused and her face is pale. I watch two small red spots appear on her cheeks and she swallows hard.

And then she lurches forward and a fountain of bright pink vomit shoots out of her mouth and drenches the bedding.