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The heads have swivelled back towards me again.

'I …' My whole body is prickling with embarrassment. 'Because we … we …'

I can't say it out loud. I just can't.

But I don't have to. Connor's face is slowly turning different colours.

'No,' he gulps, staring at me as though he's seen a ghost. And not just any old ghost. A really big ghost with clanky chains going 'Whoooarr!'

'No,' he says again. 'No. I don't believe it.'

'Connor—' says someone, putting a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

'Connor, I'm really sorry,' I say helplessly.

'You're joking!' exclaims some guy in the corner, who is obviously even slower than Connor, and has just had it spelled out to him, word for word. He looks up at me. 'So how long has this been going on?'

It's as if he opened the floodgates. Suddenly everyone in the entire room starts pitching questions at me. I can't hear myself think for the babble.

'Is that why he came to Britain? To see you?'

'Are you going to marry him?'

'You know, you don't look like weigh 135 pounds …'

'Do you really have a Barbie bedspread?'

'So in the lesbian fantasy, was it just the two of you, or …'

'Have you had sex with Jack Harper at the office?'

'Is that why you dumped Connor?'

I can't cope with this. I have to get out of here. Now.

Without looking at anyone, I get to my feet and stumble out of the room. As I head down the corridor, I'm too dazed to think of anything other than I must get my bag and go. Now.

I enter the empty marketing department, where phones are shrilly ringing around. The habit's too ingrained, I can't ignore them.

'Hello?' I say, picking up one randomly.

'So!' comes Jemima's furious voice. '"She borrows designer shoes from her flatmate and passes them off as her own." Whose shoes might those be, then? Lissy's?'

'Look, Jemima, can I just … I'm sorry … I have to go,' I say feebly, and put the phone down.

No more phones. Get bag. Go.

As I zip up my bag with trembling hands, a couple of people who have followed me into the office are picking up some of the ringing phones.

'Emma, your grandad's on the line,' says Artemis, putting her hand over the receiver. 'Something about the night bus and he'll never trust you again?'

'You have a call from Harvey's Bristol Cream publicity department,' chimes in Caroline. 'They want to know where they can send you a free case of sweet sherry?'

'How did they get my name? How? Has the word spread already? Are the women on reception telling everybody?'

'Emma, I have your dad here,' says Nick. 'He says he needs to talk to you urgently …'

'I can't,' I say numbly. 'I can't talk to anybody. I have to … I have to …'

I grab my jacket and almost run out of the office and down the corridor to the stairs. Everywhere, people are making their way back to their offices after watching the interview, and they all stare at me as I hurry by.

'Emma!' As I'm nearing the stairs, a woman named Fiona, whom I barely know, grabs me by the arm. She weighs about 300 pounds and is always campaigning for bigger chairs and wider doorways. 'Never be ashamed of your body. Rejoice in it! The earth mother has given it to you! If you want to come to our workshop on Saturday …'

I tear my arm away in horror, and start clattering down the marble stairs. But as I reach the next floor, someone else grabs my arm.

'Hey, can you tell me which charity shops you go to?' It's a girl I don't even recognize. 'Because you always look really well dressed to me …'

'I adore Barbie dolls too!' Carol Finch from Accounts is suddenly in my path. 'Shall we start a club together, Emma?'

'I … I really have to go.'

I back away, then start running down the stairs. But people keep accosting me from all directions.

'I didn't realize I was a lesbian till I was thirty-three …'

'A lot of people are confused about religion. This is a leaflet about our Bible study group …'

'Leave me alone!' I yell in anguish. 'Everyone just leave me alone!'

I sprint for the entrance, the voices following me, echoing