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she stood up. “Well, I have to sort things out with my boss. The rest of the day off, you know…”
    “Two weeks off, you mean,” Tess said.
    “If need be,” Sophie mumbled, hurrying to the door.
    “Well, you can’t leave them home alone…”
    “I realize that, but—” Sophie opened the door and found herself jiggling on her toes. She felt like a naughty child trying to escape class.
    “So you’ll need to take time off,” Tess reaffirmed.
    “Fine. I’ll take the week off,” Sophie snapped at her. “I can always work from home. Now, if you’ll excuse me, please, I need to sort things out.” She closed the door on Tess with a good deal more firmness than was strictly required.
    “I’ll make her another tea, shall I?” Cal said as Sophie marched past.
    “Don’t bother,” Sophie said shortly.
    “Sanctimonious self-righteous morally pompous…” Sophie grumbled under her breath as she headed purposefully for the ladies’ room. As she passed Eve’s office, Eve fell in line with her, and four metal-tipped heels clicked purposefully along the tile floor.
    “In-ter-est-ing,” Eve said, carefully pronouncing each syllable as she observed Sophie. “What do we have here? Sour looks and bitterness.” She cocked her head sweetly at Sophie. “You didn’t nail the Germans did you?”
    Sophie lifted her chin. “Signed, sealed, and delivered. Three conferences, summer party, Christmas party, staff. All corporate entertaining. For two years.”
    If Eve was impressed, she hid it well. “Yeah, well, I think they were ripe for a change. I reckon even Lisa could have landed them.” Sophie ignored the gibe and stopped outside the ladies’ room door.
    “Are you smoking this morning?” Eve asked her, slipping the top of her packet of Marlboros out of her trouser pocket as if they were illegal contraband, which in a smoke-free office they more or less were. It wasn’t even that smoking was banned entirely; it was allowed outside, but hardly anyone actually smoked anymore, except for Eve, that is, and Sophie sort of, and their involvement with nicotine was possibly the only thing they had in common. It also provided an opportunity for them to size each other up and see how the competition was doing.
    Tess Andrew could wait ten more minutes. “Yes, I am smoking,” Sophie said with conviction. Eve pushed open the ladies’ room door.
    “I’ll wait for you,” she said.
    Five minutes later, feeling considerably refreshed as she stood outside the office building, Sophie found herself lighting a second cigarette from the butt of the one she had just smoked. She was glad that the chill of the morning was providing a cooling antidote to the heat of her cheeks.
    “So, considering you’ve done so well,” Eve said, looking Sophie up and down as she channeled a plume of smoke though her pursed lips, “why are you so stressed? And don’t deny it, your face looks like it’s in the early stages of leprosy. You haven’t even flouted your new boots—are you ill?”
    Like Sophie, Eve wasn’t wearing a coat; the cold didn’t seem to affect her, probably because she was already cold-blooded. Sophie wound her arms around herself, glanced at Eve, and appraised the situation. Eve couldn’t in any way be described as a friend, because it was hard to be pals with your mortal enemy even if she did throw you the occasional Marlboro Light. But Sophie and Eve inevitably spent a lot of time together during office hours and had developed a sort of mutual resentful respect that had evolved into a relationship of a kind. After all, they were the only two of their breed. Gillian was at the top of the tree, and Eve and Sophie were two of three managers beneath her. The other one was Graham Hughes, of course, but he was so incompetent that nobody really counted him; he only had the job because of his family name. Eve was Sophie’s only real equal at McCarthy Hughes, the only other person who knew exactly what it was like to be