And Fen, who I shared my location with and who I had told nothing for five weeks.
She was on the desk that morning. Not on my call — it came through to Lorrie — but she was four feet away and she saw the address come up on the board.
And she has said one thing to me about all of it, in the February, in a car park at work, and she said it without any heat at all.
She said: “You sent me a map pin.”
Five weeks of a folder, and the one thing I gave the person I sit next to for forty hours a week was a blue dot moving along the Moraine road at twenty past seven in the morning.
No message. No context. A location share, which is a thing you send a friend when you are walking home.
And she said: “If it had gone wrong, I’d have spent the rest of my life working out what that pin was for.”
