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fairies, out there on a planet with Anthea Turner.
    ‘Cute headscarf, babe,’ whispered the voice in my ear. ‘Auditioning for
The Sound of Music,
are we?’
    ‘Piss off,’ I muttered, glancing up to see Matt, the other trainee in my department, looking at me with some amusement.
    ‘If you’re going for the innocent, virginal look, darling, don’t bother,’ he giggled effeminately. ‘We all saw you in action at the Chrimbo party.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, trying to think back to my last day in the office before the festive break. With the eventsof the past two days preoccupying my mind, I had completely forgotten about any previous misdemeanours.
    ‘Oh come on, Jennifer,’ Matt laughed. ‘You were pissed as a fart.’
    (Uh-oh.)
    ‘I think the bar had a lower alcohol content than you had.’
    (Not good.)
    ‘Jacksop nearly had a heart attack, the doddery old fool.’
    (Help!)
    I grabbed Matt’s arm, pulled him into the nearest empty office, and quickly shut the door.
    ‘OK, talk!’ I yelled and braced myself for the gory details.
    I was always slightly uncomfortable at office-dos. I never seemed to know quite how to behave in a social manner towards people whom I would never
choose
to associate with, but on whom I relied for my monthly pay packet. Faced with a room full of ancient Partners and aspiring bright-young-things, I turned from one of the latter into a bumbling, brainless, curly-topped bimbo, apparently incapable of engaging in any form of intellectual conversation. Unfortunately, I was also a great believer in the virtues of Dutch courage and, hence, usually formed an intimate relationship with the free bar. I wasn’t totally surprised, therefore, by Matt’s report on my recent festive behaviour.
    Bit by bit, the night’s events came flooding back as my bemused colleague recounted the tale.
    Me, telling everyone that Jack and I would soon be husband and wife.
    Jack spending most of the party engaged in deep conversation with the lovely Vicky.
    Me, debating alternative childbirth methods with the Senior Partner and discussing suitable colours for a nursery.
    Jack seeking refuge behind the eight-foot tall ice sculpture … with the lovely Vicky.
    Me, trying to catch Jack’s attention by dancing seductively in the centre of the room … with the Senior Partner.
    Jack trying to drag me outside for air … with the help of the lovely Vicky.
    Me, choosing to audition for work as a table dancer, slipping on the artichoke salad and landing head down, M&S knickers up, in the lap of Mr Jacksop … the Senior Partner.
    I was mortified. The night Jack had dumped me, he had mentioned my ‘periodic outbursts of outrageous and completely unacceptable behaviour’. I had thought he was totally unjustified and put it down to a spur of the moment insult, but now I was beginning to see his point.
    I looked at Matt, who was clutching his stomach and laughing hysterically. He appeared to be slightly out of focus but I thought that was probably just a symptom of the shock I was suffering.
    ‘Oh no, it’s true,’ I groaned. ‘I am a total disaster area. No wonder he doesn’t want me, I don’t deserve someone like Jack. I do have “outbursts of outrageous and completely unacceptable behaviour”.’
    ‘Hey don’t worry, darling.’ Matt put a well-manicured hand on my shoulder and shook his head sympathetically. ‘You’re great, Jenny, and you gave the rest of us a good laugh.’
    He laughed loudly and made for the door.
    ‘I’d just steer clear of Jacksop for a while, hon, you wouldn’t want to kill the poor man off.’
    He clapped his hands together and wiggled out of the door, leaving me standing alone and feeling foolish.
    ‘Oh great,’ I said aloud, ‘I’m totally outrageous and a right “laugh”. Hardly the tough, professional, lawyer-like manner I was aiming for.’
    I suddenly felt rather light-headed and needed to sit down. My mind was racing and I felt queasy. I blamed it on