It’s been two days since the story broke and the lockdown messaging fell apart — a blur of hysterical ministers and crisis comms. As of this morning she’s been covering Twitter as well, because James is off sick with “a cough”. Annoying, but not half as annoying as the boss fluffing her name in front of everyone on Zoom. That really grated.

On her laptop, the Prime Minister is doubling down, defending his man at a lectern framed by two Union Jacks. She hears him insist that the aide “acted responsibly, and with the overwhelming aim of stopping the spread of the virus”.

She types the seventy characters in a cold, hard rage. Then she pours herself a glass of red and watches the tweet go viral.

Twelve minutes later, her work phone vibrates: “Laura — WTF!”

“It’s LARA, you prick,” she taps back, and reaches out a hand for more wine.