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Her reaction was physical, as if she’d been punched in the chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her head spinning slightly. ‘What did you just say?’

‘I’m recommending a month off work.’ The doctor handed her a piece of paper.

‘But… there’s nothing wrong with me.’

The doctor rested her blue, serious eyes on Becky until she reluctantly raised her own to meet them. ‘Rebecca,’ she said. ‘You have severe burnout.’

‘What? Oh, come on! This is completely ridiculous! I don’t have burnout.

If anything, I’m thriving.’ Becky brushed away some strands of hair that had escaped from her normally perfectly coiffed ponytail and tried to appear relaxed.

‘Yes, I work hard. Yes, sometimes I get a little… stressed. But who doesn’t? I’ll take up yoga or something.’

The doctor resumed her steady gaze. She looked mid-thirties or thereabouts. Just a few years older than Becky. Probably charging Becky’s firm hundreds an hour. ‘Rebecca,’ she said calmly, interlocking her fingers on her desk. ‘You threw a laptop across the office.’

In the cold light of day, in this white painted office with its shiny tiles and bright lights, chucking a HP EliteBook did sound quite extreme.

But Doctor Fuller didn’t know what it was like to perform in the kind of fast-paced environment Becky had worked in for the past decade; didn’t understand the stakes, the fact that tensions often ran high.

This wasn’t a time for comparisons though. She needed damage limitation. ‘Well,’ she said carefully, ‘yes, I did. But in my defence, I’d just come off a pretty frustrating call.’

‘It says here, the laptop almost hit Stuart, the intern.’ Doctor Fuller checked her notes, her forehead creasing.

Becky sighed. This again. ‘Yes, but it didn’t hit him, did it? Plus, you know… He’s an intern – he was probably glad of the attention!’ She looked at the doctor for a reciprocal eye roll and smile.

None were forthcoming.

‘I’m not sure it’s a laughing matter.’ The doctor’s brow furrowed with concern. ‘Someone could have been hurt. Not to mention the matter of damaging company property. A lot of firms would have classed this as grounds for instant termination.’

The word ‘termination’ made Becky’s heart lurch. She’d been trying not to think about how close she’d come to losing it all.

‘Look, OK, I was stressed. But the call wasn’t even about work. It was?—’

‘So it was a personal call?’ The doctor made a note in her file.

‘Oh. Well, not personal. An official call. It wasn’t as if I was having a relationship drama or…’

‘Do you often have relationship dramas?’ The doctor’s eyebrow raised slightly.

‘No! I don’t have relationship dramas! I don’t even have a relationship!

I haven’t had sex since 2023. I… Not that that’s relevant.

I mean, I could have sex. If I wanted to.

It’s not that I never… I do have a sex drive.

I’m just… I’ve been busy and…’ she trailed off, sensing she was not onto a winner here.

‘So, as I was saying. A month will…’

‘OK, OK,’ Becky said, sitting up straighter, fixing the doctor with what she hoped was a calm, thoughtful look.

The look of a sane person who wasn’t about to lose her cool.

Someone who’d had a blip, but was far from having any sort of breakdown.

‘I’ll admit, it wasn’t my finest hour. But you know, all’s well that ends well. Come on, look at me. I’m fine.’

‘Your eyelid appears to be twitching.’

Becky felt the familiar flicker in the corner of her right eye. Why? Why now? She put her finger against her eye. ‘Well, that’s never happened before,’ she lied.

‘And your leg has been trembling for the last five minutes.’

It was a bad habit. Whenever she was under pressure, Becky seemed to consign all her excess energy and adrenaline to her limbs. ‘Oh, that!’ she said, trying to laugh it off.

‘Burnout can be serious, Becky. Living under that level of stress can?—’

‘Well… say I do have a little bit of – let’s call it “excess stress”,’ said Becky making finger quotes. ‘I’ll deal with it. I’ll get some therapy, start doing some stretches. Whatever. Can we move past it?’

The doctor shook her head. ‘That’s all very… admirable. But I’m going to insist on a proper leave of absence, say a month. Just to get your head straight. I’m signing you off.’

She was properly, properly serious. Becky felt her breathing quicken. ‘No, listen. You’ve got this all wrong. I can’t take a month off!’ she said, realising her voice had somehow gone up an octave, and trying desperately to bring it back to normal levels.

‘I think if you don’t, you could become seriously ill,’ the doctor said gravely.

‘Think of it this way, Becky. A month off now could save you a few months off in the future if things continue down the same path.’ Her earnest eyes were full of empathy.

It made Becky want to scream. ‘Also, you’re on a final warning from HR over this.

Better to make sure you’re fully well in case something happens again? ’

‘Look, it won’t, I swear,’ Becky said desperately. ‘I’ll… look, I’ll do anything. Want me to take up jogging? Meditation? Book a therapy session or two?’

‘Well, yes, all of those things will undoubtedly be helpful. But I’m sorry, I’m still signing you off.’ The doctor looked at her kindly. ‘It would be unprofessional of me to?—’

‘Surely there’s something we can do?’ Becky asked desperately. ‘I’m fine! I’ll prove it!’ She got to her feet, thoughts racing. ‘Ask me anything about my job. Anything! I promise you I am nailing it!’

The doctor gave a sympathetic head tilt. ‘Sit down, Becky,’ she said, using the kind of weary voice a teacher might use with a wayward pupil.

Becky sat, chastened. ‘It’s just… there must be something I can do to convince you.’

‘I’m so sorry. If it helps, I can see how committed you are to your job. It’s admirable. But Becky, high-flying types like yourself, the way you care about your job… it just makes you more prone to burnout.’

‘I promise I don’t need time off though.’

‘You’ll thank me eventually.’

Becky felt a sudden urge to reach for the doctor’s possessions – the cute family photo, the neat stack of folders, the laptop, a tiny plushie in the shape of a frog – and dramatically sweep them from the desk.

Instead, she clenched her fists, smiled thinly, got to her feet, picked up her bag and made her way to the door, past the rows and rows of diplomas and silver-framed photos of the doctor shaking hands with various important-looking people.

I bet, she thought, nobody’s ever forced her to have a month off.

Stepping out of the office into the waiting room, she saw Amber flicking through last month’s Good Housekeeping , her head nodding as she took in whatever wisdom was being imparted.

It was only when Becky stood right in front of her that her best friend raised her eyes, her expression turning from thoughtful to concerned.

‘How did it go?’ she asked, making a face.

‘Not good.’ Becky looked at the other patients in the waiting room.

Just two – one reading a book on meditation, the other sitting, glancing at a phone screen from time to time.

Nobody appeared to be listening in. Still, she inclined her head towards the exit and, understanding, Amber folded her magazine and stood up.

‘They’ve signed me off,’ she said as they waited for the lift, trying to keep her voice steady. She didn’t want to cry, not before they were at least in the car. But it was going to be a close thing.

‘Oh! Well, that’s OK,’ Amber said, putting a hand on Becky’s back. ‘You’ll be OK. If I’m honest, I wouldn’t mind a bit of time off myself! Did you know that Rufus?—’

‘It’s not OK,’ Becky said. ‘Amber, they’ve signed me off for a month !’

‘Wow. Long time.’

‘Yeah. A month is a long time, with Stevie in the office.’ Stevie, graduate extraordinaire, had been snapping at Becky’s heels for a while, clearly vying for a place on the management team. Now, there would be no holding her back.

They were silent for a moment. The lift slid into position and the doors opened.

Thankfully it was empty. Becky avoided looking at herself in the mirrored wall, not wanting to see her no-doubt reddening eyes, instead turning to face the buttons and pressing the ‘G’ emphatically.

Amber gave herself a brief once-over, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

Her battle with her curls was constant; and she knew they would always win. But it didn’t stop her trying.

‘Come on,’ Amber said, turning back to her once the lift started to descend. ‘It could be fun. I mean, I know it’s not ideal, career-wise.’

‘The understatement of the year.’

‘But once you… accept it… it’ll do you good, Becks. God. Maybe I’ll ditch my job. We can travel the world together. Relive our wild youth!’

Becky raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Wild youth? What, staying out past eleven in the pub? Sneaking cigarettes in the park in our teens? The time we lied to our mums about having a sleepover and tried to get into a nightclub?’

‘That’s about the sum of it.’

They smiled at each other, momentarily transported back to being the teenage conspirators of fourteen years ago.

But Becky’s face soon fell again. She covered it with her hands and let out a groan.

‘But seriously, it’s just insane! I’m at the top of my game.

Yes, I occasionally get a bit stressed. But you can hardly call it burnout.

’ She thought again of the office – its sleek windowed wall looking out over London, her wardrobe stuffed with designer work wear.

The flat – the flat she’d set her heart on owning.

All of these things required money, maintenance.

Losing her job could literally lose her everything.

Why had she taken the call at that moment?

And why hadn’t she held in her emotions?

Or done something less dramatic and kicked over a wastepaper basket or something?