Will does an impressive job at looking anxious and uncomfortable, even offering to sit on the floor when I move to find another chair.

“No, Trish,” he says, resting a hand lightly on my arm. “I prefer the floor, really.”

It’s almost as if he’s taunting me. Growing up, being caught sitting on the floor was akin to smoking weed in your bedroom.

He drops to the carpet, crosses his legs and leans back against the couch next to Lily’s legs.

“So, Will,” Lily says into the awkward silence. “What brings you to Trish’s door?”

Attagirl, Lil, I think, giving her a half-smile. Straight to the point.

Will angles his neck to look up at her.

“I heard Trish was living in these parts and I was down here for an appointment so thought I’d look her up.” He smiles nervously at me. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you do for a living?” asks Emma, getting in on the not-so-subtle interrogation.

God, I love my friends.

“I work for a landscaping company. I’m in the clean-and-clear team.”

“The what?” Mags asks.

He shrugs. “We go into properties that haven’t been looked after and clear away all the overgrowth. Take out anything that’s in poor condition, trim branches and salvage what we can.”

My brother spends his days outside bringing gardens back to life. It seems ridiculous to be jealous, but I am.

“I’m hoping to move into the design team soon,” Will continues. “It would be a nice change actually to put plants in, rather than rip them out.”

My friends nod encouragingly.

“It doesn’t pay well, though,” Will says. “I’ve been saving for ten years to buy my first house but I still don’t have a big enough deposit.”

And there it is. The true reason my brother has turned up on my doorstep. The bloody arsehole wants money. Well, he can take a flying leap.

Mags is sympathizing with him, of course – she can’t see what he’s angling for. She’s telling him how she’s still renting herself but hoping to buy an apartment soon.

Emma sneaks a hand onto my knee and squeezes.

“Should I give you a hand with those hot drinks, Trish?”

I look at her, startled.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about them.”

“Would you like a tea or coffee, Will?” Emma asks sweetly.

Will looks up from his cozy spot on the floor. Where are the nerves now? He looks like he’s been lazing about in my house for years.

“A regular cup of joe would be great, thanks, Emma. Just a little milk, no sugar.”

Emma and I enter the kitchen and then I round on her.

“Don’t be nice to him, Em,” I hiss. “He’s only turned up because he needs money.”

Emma’s eyes widen. “What makes you think that?”