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I place my hands on the rails so I can turn and look at him without flying unceremoniously off the back of the machine. ‘Why, are you in the habit of making people uncomfortable?’ I ask, trying my best to adopt an amused expression that I hope doesn’t just come off as some kind of weird gurn.

Thankfully, it seems I’ve pulled it off as he smiles back. ‘I’d like to hope not, but I read this article a while ago about how some women feel that guys in gyms assume they don’t know what they’re doing and start mansplaining stuff to them. I don’t think that’s me, but what if I’ve been doing it without realising?’

So much for breaking the awkwardness then. He’s determined to be hard work. ‘Do you always overthink like this?’ I ask him.

‘It kind of goes with my job. I’m a communications specialist, so I’m always super-aware of what I’m saying and how it might be misconstrued.’

That’s interesting information. I’ve never heard of a communications specialist before and I’ll admit to being curious but, before I get the opportunity to ask about it, his treadmill bursts into life and he turns away to focus on getting himself in sync with the machine. Even at the brisk walking pace it’s set him for his warm-up, I’m aware of the fluidity of his movements and, although I’m trying to keep my eyes firmly to the front, I can’t help stealing the odd glance when his pace increases to a run. I’m very aware of the sound of my breathing and the slapping of my trainers against the treadmill as he lopes along next to me in near silence. To my surprise, I find myself trying to adapt my gait to match his, but I’m evidently more of a heffalump than a panther as it doesn’t feel natural at all and, after a few minutes, the aches in my calves persuade me to give up and go back to my normal style. Thankfully, Nathan has either not noticed me trying to match him or has decided not to comment on it.

There’s still something uncomfortable about the silence as we run side by side and I feel like I need to say something just to puncture it.

‘I think I generally prefer running in the open air,’ I venture after a while. ‘I mean, this is OK, but there isn’t much in the way of scenery, is there?’

‘Why don’t you then?’ Nathan asks. Annoyingly, he doesn’t seem to be even vaguely out of breath, unlike me.

‘If I’m brutally honest, I don’t feel completely safe on the street outside,’ I tell him.

There’s a brief pause before he replies. ‘I get it. I’m sure those homeless guys are harmless, though.’

‘If we were in the UK, I’d agree with you, but for some reason, they feel intimidating over here. Do you know what I mean?’

I’m regretting the words as soon as they’re out. This was just supposed to be a way to break the silence, but of course Nathan is going to interpret it as a cry for help.

‘Would it help if you weren’t alone?’ he asks. ‘I’ll admit that I gravitated to the gym here because it’s convenient, but I’m more than happy to come with you if you’d like.’

‘Thanks, but I wasn’t asking you to be my knight in shining armour,’ I tell him more sharply than I intended. I know he’s just being nice, but I don’t need another macho male in my life right now.

‘I didn’t think you were,’ he says, glancing over at me curiously. ‘Sorry. I was just trying to help.’

I sigh. Well, it’s something between a pant and a sigh. Come on, Athena. It’s not his fault you’re going to be spending the rest of the day locked in a room with Jeremiah and his cronies. Give the guy a break.

‘No, it’s me that should be sorry,’ I tell him after a moment. ‘It’s a kind offer and I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that.’

‘At the risk of grossly overstepping the boundaries, you don’t seem to be as relaxed as you were the day before yesterday. Is everything all right?’

‘Yeah. I’m just juggling some difficult dynamics at work and it’s obviously making me snappier than I intended. I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’

‘Hey, don’t worry about me. However, office dynamics is one of my specialties, so if you wanted someone to talk any of it through with, I’d be happy to help. In a completely non-mansplainy way, of course.’ He grins and I can’t help but smile back at him. In all the years I’ve been doing this job, I’ve never felt that I needed an ally before, but I’ve also never felt this alone and isolated before.

‘Thank you,’ I reply. ‘I might just take you up on that.’

* * *

‘Are you going to feed back to us tomorrow?’ Jeremiah asks at the end of another frankly bizarre day. Some of the challenges they’ve talked about make sense, in particular the fragility of the supply chain and their need to adapt quickly if a shipment is delayed or simply fails to turn up. But I had to work hard not to let my professional mask slip when they told me that, rather than using any kind of science or retail best practice, the way they laid out their stores was largely dictated by the suppliers, who obviously all wanted their products in the best locations, and the buyers, who tended to want to appease the suppliers and earn the best commissions. The result is an illogical mess where I’m frankly amazed that customers can find anything. I’m definitely going to need the weekend to find a way to express that in terms that won’t send Jeremiah off the deep end, though.

‘No,’ I tell him. ‘As I’ve explained already, I’m using this week to gather as much information as I can, which I will then collate over the weekend and feed back to you early next week along with my recommendations for the design.’

‘I don’t like it,’ he says tetchily. ‘It feels to me like we’ve taken our pants down this week, shown you the crown jewels, and we’re not getting so much as a flash of cleavage in return.’

Just when I thought I was starting to get the measure of Jeremiah, he’s blindsided me yet again with quite the most inappropriate analogy I’ve ever heard in an office setting. Did he seriously just say that? More importantly, how should I react? If this were a UK client, I wouldn’t hesitate to put in a complaint but, if I’ve learned one thing from my few days here, it’s that people in South Africa have a much more direct style of communication than I’m used to. Maybe the best approach here would actually be to play him at his own game. It can’t make things any worse than they already are, and my attempts at charm have fallen on deaf ears.

‘You know how it is, Jeremiah,’ I say with a smile. ‘Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen.’

For a moment, I worry that I’ve called this wrong as he stares at me blankly. But then he speaks and, for the first time, he doesn’t sound irritated and I wonder if Sarah has taken him aside for a quiet word.

‘Let’s just hope the juice proves to be worth the squeeze,’ he says.

‘I’m sure you’ll let me know if it isn’t,’ I tell him.