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off the sofa, Anna held her head high. ‘Now bugger off out of my life … Please.’

      She glanced at the list of rules they’d created. Despite it being a difficult moment, Anna smiled to herself, thinking: ‘This is what happens when you get two change professionals together.’ Liam stood up and pulled his box of stuff up into his arms. ‘You have to be proactive with those on your list and contact them. No need to tell them about the segregation,’ he said, letting himself out.

      ‘Shit weasel,’ said Anna, and she had another large mouthful of cold coffee.

      Walking into the office, Anna thought about how Liam had annoyed her on two levels the previous evening: one with the whole dividing up their friends, and secondly by the mention of Tabitha. Not the mention of her alone but the fact he had moved on so effortlessly. Anna was a long way from moving on – she was still at the licking her wounds stage, which was why she was sworn off men for the time being. Perhaps men were designed differently? Maybe they were meant to switch to the next available female. It didn’t seem right that she had been so easily replaced. She hoped that said more about him than it did about her or their relationship, but she wasn’t sure. When Liam had dumped her she’d thought her world was caving in but she’d quickly realised her relationship with him had been much like Gruyère cheese – harder than it needed to be and full of holes.

      It worried her that she’d not noticed how Gruyère he was before this point. What she needed was something more reliable. Cheddar, perhaps? She wanted something a bit more exciting than Cheddar. Cheshire? Too flaky. Maybe she’d hold out for a nice Brie: soft on the inside with a touch of decadence. But Brie could be smelly and a little crusty. She’d got it! White Stilton with apricots: simple but interesting with an edge of sophistication, which always felt special. How had she got on to cheese? All she’d done was make herself hungry.

      When she was a little girl she remembered telling everyone she was going to marry her daddy. Her mother had had to sit her down and explain it really wasn’t an option and she had been quite upset at the time. Her very first life plan had been blown out of the water with one easy strike. She knew she had her parents up on a pedestal; their relationship wasn’t perfect but it was one born out of total love and care for each other and had stood strong for almost thirty years. Perhaps she was searching for a man to love her the way her father adored her mother – but was that so wrong?

      Anna knew she had partly ignored the niggles in her relationship with Liam because, at twenty-eight, she was worried about veering off her life plan. But now they’d split up, she was totally off plan and way out of her comfort zone. She hadn’t only lost Liam; she’d lost her wedding day and her beautifully mapped-out future too.

      Anna had always been conscientious and focused in every job she’d had since university; she was keen to establish her career before she started a family. She had always expected to have been married with children and well settled by the time she was thirty, based on the fact her parents had married quite young and she’d been born within the year. Her sister had followed shortly afterwards.

      Anna’s thoughts were miles away as she pulled her security pass from the side pocket of her bag. It caught on the zip and she stopped to try to free it. Someone appeared, as if from nowhere, at her side.

      ‘Hi, can I get in this way?’

      ‘Ooh, you made me jump,’ she said, catching a quick look at the man. ‘You’ll need one of these,’ she said, wrestling her lanyard free, which bungeed the pass card out of her bag and whipped into the face of the stranger.

      ‘Ow!’ He clutched at his eye. ‘Damn it.’ He couldn’t have sounded more American if he’d tried.

      ‘I am so sorry,’ said Anna, profusely British and mortified at what she’d done. He staggered a little on the steps, his eyes tight shut. ‘Come over here,’ she said, taking his arm, noting the muscle definition through his jacket sleeve, and guiding him away from the flow of people coming up the steps. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, hoping he was going to say yes.

      ‘Do I look okay?’ he snapped but at least he opened his good eye to survey his aggressor. He definitely had an American accent.

      Anna gave an apologetic smile. ‘I am really very sorry. Shall I take a look?’ She pointed at his eye and he flinched.

      ‘No, thank you. Can you just tell me how to get inside the building?’ He gave her a look that implied he doubted she had the ability.

      ‘This is a staff entrance. You need …’ she thought better of showing him her pass again ‘… a staff security pass to get in this door. Shall I show you?’

      ‘No, I think you’ve done enough.’ His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her.

      ‘Okay, right, yes.’ You couldn’t help some people. ‘Have a nice day,’ she said, and she waltzed up the steps. There were a few people in front of her. When they shuffled forward she swiped her card and followed them into the revolving door. She glanced over her shoulder. He was still watching her. Perhaps he was trying to get in illegally, although she couldn’t think why. Suddenly the door stopped revolving but Anna carried on, banging her head on the glass. ‘Ow!’ She rubbed her forehead. That’d be a bruise later. The door then proceeded to go in reverse and spat her out into a queue full of tutting people. This happened every so often when your card hadn’t registered properly. Anna apologised to the queue, firmly reswiped her card and gave a quick glance at the American who was smirking broadly with his eyebrows raised in amusement. Great.

      She took the stairs to the second floor and scanned the office for any new faces in their area; she was keen to meet the person who she’d be working closely with over the next year. The company operated a hot-desking policy, which was a bone of contention with everyone. A few people had allocated desks for a variety of valid and spurious reasons, leaving the rest of them to fight on a first-come, first-served basis. Anna was in luck as her favourite desk was free. It was a little like an old folks’ home in that they didn’t have their own seat but they all liked to sit in a certain one – and woe betide anyone who sat in a different seat.

      She plugged in her laptop and while it fired up she went to get coffees for her, Sophie and their lead designer, Karl. Anna, Sophie and Karl had met when they’d been put on the same special project a few years ago and had quickly bonded over long days, a shared sense of humour and a love of good coffee. When she returned, Sophie and Karl were behaving like a pair of snooping meerkats, both on tiptoes peering over the filing cabinets towards their boss’s office.

      ‘What’s going on?’ asked Anna, handing out the coffees.

      ‘Venti, Americano, with hot milk?’ asked Karl, not averting his eyes from his surveillance operation as he took the cup.

      ‘Yep,’ said Anna, trying to see what they were watching.

      ‘With an extra shot?’ added Karl.

      ‘Yes, of course. What’s going on?’

      ‘And the cute brunette’s phone number?’

      ‘Y … No!’ Anna gave him her best withering glare and he replied with a wink. Karl was incorrigible; one of the last non-PC people she knew and also the gayest straight man she’d ever encountered.

      ‘We think Roberta’s meeting with the project manager from West Midlands Insurance,’ said Sophie.

      Anna went up on tiptoes herself but it did no good – she was already in very high heels and still too short to be able to see anything. Her mobile trilled into life: it was Roberta.

      ‘Anna, could you come to my office right away? I’d like you to meet the new PM.’

      ‘On my way,’ said Anna, but Roberta had already ended the call.

      ‘Cover me, I’m going in,’ said Anna, picking up her trusty project folder and coffee.

      Anna knocked on the glass office door. Office was too grand a term for the small corner sectioned off with boards and a sliding smoked-glass door but Roberta was very proud of it, having battled

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