Jose Mourinho did not have the countenance of a man who had just lost his job. A look that bordered on the gently amused played across his features yesterday afternoon as he strolled through the Wyndham hotel in Chelsea Harbour. Outside, the water barely rippled. After a tumultuous nine months in which his relationship with Roman Abramovich, the Chelsea owner, had lurched towards meltdown then fragile peace and back again, Mourinho looked serene. Finally, he could exhale.

"I am going to enjoy my life," he said when asked what he intended to do next. "And wait for phone calls. I want to work."

The hotel's bar was sparsely populated and the former Chelsea manager was hard pushed to leave his trademark trail of mayhem. The staff seemed nonplussed by his presence; visitors over their cappuccinos restricted themselves to the occasional glance.

The roar of the crowd, the spotlight, both were a long way away.

The eye of the storm had arrived and Mourinho chose to surround himself with his most trusted lieutenants and enjoy a moment. An era had ended. Over lunch in the Aquasia restaurant he chatted with Rui Faria, Silvino Louro and Andre Villas Boas, fellow Portuguese, members of his backroom staff, and they reflected upon how matters had hurtled to such an explosive climax the previous night.

"I have to speak to my agent, my lawyers," said Mourinho, the notion of compensation prominent in everyone's thoughts. He had a shade under three years of his £5.2 million-a-year contract at Stamford Bridge remaining. "We have to go to the club, so at the moment I cannot say anything. I will make a short statement like the club did, a statement from me."

As the group sat at their table, Mourinho lounging against the wall, the memories may have flashed before them - the five pieces of domestic silverware, most memorably the 2004-05 league title, the club's first in 50 years. The highs were exhilarating, the lows heavy on recrimination. Champions League semi-final exits against Liverpool cut to the core. Mourinho will not now enjoy the opportunity to deliver Europe's elite trophy to Stamford Bridge, which will number among his greatest regrets.

It is nigh impossible, however, to remove the showman from Mourinho, and those expansive gestures lit the scene. Was he upset? He shrugged. His pride seemingly does not allow for that. Did he feel he had been pushed, or had he walked the plank of his own accord, no longer able to do the job as he had wanted? "You have the statement," he said. "Read the statement."

It advanced the notion of "mutual consent". What did that mean? "Look it up in the dictionary," he smiled.

Even by Mourinho's standards, Wednesday, September 19th 2007, will go down as a seismic day. Dark plots had been afoot since the previous evening, when Chelsea had laboured to a 1-1 home draw with Rosenborg of Norway in the Champions League Group B opener. Abramovich had laughed when Miika Koppinen put Rosenborg ahead. Inside, he seethed. Little wonder only 24,975 had turned up. The fare was turgid.

Abramovich, Peter Kenyon, the chief executive, and the director Eugene Tenenbaum had been expected at the screening of Blue Revolution, a new documentary about the Abramovich years, at a cinema in Fulham Broadway at 7pm. They didn't show, discussions about Mourinho's future detaining them.

Mourinho attended but by then he knew that his number was up. He had texted John Terry, the captain, and Frank Lampard to tell them of his impending departure and they had decided not to attend the screening. The rest of the squad arrived by coach, swept past photographers and took their seats. As the images of glory rolled over them, something felt wrong. For Mourinho, it must have been like watching his own Chelsea obituary.

After the documentary he went to see Abramovich at Stamford Bridge. More text alerts beeped on players' mobile phones. Mourinho had fired off messages to senior professionals, including Didier Drogba, Claude Makelele and Ricardo Carvalho. They had felt the tensions for some months. Nevertheless there was disbelief among them.

"Yes, I met with Roman Abramovich last night," said Mourinho at the Wyndham. The meeting broke up in the small hours; the last rites had been read over his relationship with the Russian oligarch.

Mourinho was up early yesterday morning and arrived at the club's Cobham training facility for the last time at 7.30. He cleared his desk and said tear-free goodbyes to his squad. There was no big address this time. The need for those had gone.

Avram Grant, now in charge of the first team, and Steve Clarke, Mourinho's assistant, took training and tried to raise spirits. As they did, Mourinho was driven off in a blacked-out Audi Q7, with a car in front and a car behind. Only the motorcycle outriders were missing. Abramovich and Kenyon were also at the training ground yesterday to see the players.

Mourinho awaited the arrival of his agent, Jorge Mendes, from the continent and after his relaxing lunch he headed for Stamford Bridge for negotiations over his pay-off. Back to the serious business. Back to the hothouse.