‘I had an idea,’ Tash says in the morning.

We’re sitting on the sofa, TV turned to This Morning but with the sound down, and Tash is eating what I think might be her sixth piece of toast. Not that I’m judging.

‘Oh god,’ I say.

‘No,’ she says, wiping butter off her chin with the back of her hand. ‘It’s a good one.’

‘Go on…’

‘You’re invisible, right?’ she says.

I just stare at her. Not that she can tell.

‘Well, that gives you an advantage for the pitch,’ she says. She puts the crust of the current piece of toast back on the plate and picks up a fresh piece.

‘Er, how does it?’ I ask.

I’ve already had three pieces of toast too, but seeing Tash merrily crunching away makes me reach for another.

‘You can go and do a recce,’ she says, a few crumbs flying out of her mouth.

‘Where?’

‘Fancy Bantams,’ she says. ‘Duh.’

‘Don’t “duh” me,’ I say. ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

‘We get a cab there. I wait for you somewhere nearby – I’m sure there’ll be a Starbucks or something – and you go in and have a look around. Earwig on the staff. Rummage through their unmentionables. I dunno. Use your imagination.’

‘Hmm,’ I say as I chew my toast. ‘Hmm.’

‘And do not talk to me about ethics,’ Tash says, reaching over and picking up the remote as Joe Wicks appears on screen to do the cooking segment. ‘Fuck ethics. You’re invisible. You’re already at a disadvantage. You might as well use it any way you can.’

‘Hmm,’ I say again. I’m not completely convinced, but I’m willing to think about it.

‘No time like the present,’ Tash is saying half an hour later, once she’s finished drooling over Joe Wicks making a turkey burger and eaten all the toast.

I sigh. ‘I suppose.’

‘Come on,’ she says. ‘I’m devastated and heartbroken. I need to be entertained.’

She says it lightly, but her voice cracks a bit and the thing is, she is devastated and heartbroken, I know she is. And I do want to take care of her. And I also do need to get on with writing the pitch. I hate it when she’s right.

‘I’ll get dressed,’ I say.

‘That’s my girl,’ she says. She tries to slap my arse, but misses completely.

The Fancy Bantams office isn’t actually that far away. It’s on an industrial estate just outside East Finchley. There’s no Starbucks, but there’s a huge Tesco about five minutes’ walk away, so Tash goes there and I tell her I’ll come and find her in about an hour.

The main door is electric, so I walk in without any problem and wait in the reception area until a man comes in and greets the receptionist before opening the door to the Fancy Bantams office with a swipe card. I walk right up close behind him and manage to follow him inside before the door closes.

The office is open plan and huge, with metal staircases and a mezzanine floor. There are enormous windows at the top, but hardly any windows at all at the bottom. All around the walls are lit-up signs with inspirational slogans like ‘Do what you love, love what you do’, ‘Be awesome’ and ‘Rock it!’

I’ve seen photos of their old office in one of the files and it was nothing like this. It was staid and boring and practical.

I can hear music playing, but it’s fairly low. Other than that the only sound I can hear is the sound of fingers tapping on keyboards and mobile alerts. It’s fairly similar to our office, really, just on a much bigger and more hipster scale.

I walk over to the closest desk where a man is leaning too far back on his chair and talking into his mobile.

‘We’re literally ripping up the rule book,’ he says and I roll my eyes and walk further into the office.

At the far end there’s a row of tables with booth seating like you’d find in a diner. Most of them are empty, but there are four young-looking women sitting around one of them and I head over and lean against the next table. They’re not talking; all four of them are leaning over a huge piece of paper on the table. I can’t see whether they’re writing or drawing or doing a crossword, so I move round and stand at the end of their table. My stomach rolls with nerves – it’s hard to believe they can possibly not be aware of me, standing right next to them, but of course they’re not. And then I feel guilty for spying.

‘Fuck ethics!’ I hear Tash say and so I lean forward as far as I can without risking bumping the table and then one of the women says, ‘Urban camouflage?’

The other three all sit up straight and stare at her.

‘That works,’ one of them says. She’s white but with dreadlocks down to her waist. She doesn’t seem to be wearing any make-up apart from blue lipstick. Not very camouflaged, urban or otherwise.

I take a couple of steps back and look at all four of the women. None of them appear to be wearing Fancy Bantams clothes. And now that I think about it, the guy at the first desk wasn’t either. Everyone’s wearing much more interesting stuff.

At the end of the row of tables, there’s an empty office. It’s all glass and it doesn’t have a door, so I walk straight in and look around. There’s a triangular desk in one corner and then diagonally opposite there’s a huge black box. I walk over and peer at it. It looks like a ballot box, like when you go to vote. They’re actually going to have the staff write their agency preference and put it in a ballot box? It seems really unlikely that they’re even considering staying with Houghton & Peel. Pitching at all might well be a complete waste of time.

I’m looking at a framed certificate hanging on the side of a bookcase when someone walks in. As usual, a feeling of panic floods over me before I realise it’s fine, I can’t be seen. It’s another young-ish looking guy. He’s pretty good-looking, even though he’s wearing a beanie indoors. He sits down behind the desk, fiddles with his mobile and then says, ‘Hey. Calvin, hi.’

He swings away from me on his chair and I head back out to the main part of the office.

I spend the rest of my allotted hour just wandering around, listening to any conversations I come across, reading bits of promotional material and stuff stuck on the pinboard, looking at framed photos on the walls. I have to wait by the door for a few minutes before someone leaves and I can follow them out, but then I make my way over to Tesco and find Tash sitting next to the trolley lockers, a massive mug of tea from the cafe clutched between her hands and an utterly dejected look on her face.

I sit down next to her and put my arm around her and she jumps out of her skin, knocking the table with her knees and splashing tea everywhere.

‘Sorry,’ I whisper.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ she says.

I hear someone nearby tut and Tash rolls her eyes.

‘You should wear a bell or something,’ Tash says, not even caring that as far as anyone else is concerned, she’s talking to herself in a Tesco. ‘God, I swear you forget you’re invisible sometimes.’

She’s right. I do.

‘Don’t be mean,’ I say into her ear. ‘Are you okay? You looked miserable when I came in.’

She takes her phone out and holds it up to her ear – Alex’s trick. ‘I am miserable.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say and squeeze her.

‘S’okay. My own fault. How did it go?’

‘It was okay,’ I say. ‘Can’t really talk here.’

She drains the last of her tea – most of it is pooled on the table – and stands up. ‘Let’s get out of here then.’

‘Urban camouflage?’ Tash says, once we’re back at my flat and sitting at opposite ends of the sofa. ‘Ugh.’

‘I know,’ I say.

‘So they want to blend in,’ Tash says. ‘That’s the point. I mean, you say “urban camouflage” and I immediately think of a grey bloke against a grey building, you know?’

On the Fancy Bantams website, there is literally a photo of a man all in grey, leaning against a grey wall. The only colour in the photo is a bright yellow flower growing out from between the bricks.

I nod. ‘Yes. But they want to blend in in an edgy way. Apparently. And I need to come up with something fast,’ I say. ‘Or it’s going to be too late. Although if I’m still invisible I’m fucked anyway.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Tash says. ‘We could make a video or something. You could do a voiceover. Don’t give up. I’m sure Alex would help. We’ll find a way round it.’

I really hope so. As much as I’m nervous about the pitch, I want to be able to do it. I want to rise to the challenge. And I want the promotion. I think.