Lettie pokes the tin at me again; I take it from her and concentrate on getting the lid off, choosing a biscuit, taking a bite. She picks another one for herself. “Sure. Why not.”

Lettie’s sitting on the pages. She shifts her bum and pulls them out. They’re folded at odd angles and she smooths them on her leg, making them crackle. She peers at them one at a time. I catch the titles on a couple: Clutter image rating scale and Hoarding behavior rating scale. I focus on my cup.

She digs in her jacket again, her hand reaching through her pockets. Well, what did I expect? I start thinking of an excuse to leave, but it’s only a pair of glasses she pulls out. They’re bright yellow. I sit back again as she rests them on her nose and reads.

“Well?”

Lettie reads aloud. “Look at image and circle which one matches best.” She stares at the pages, her face wooden. “Here, you do it.” She thrusts them at me. “You’ve been inside.”

The kitchen. There are nine images of a kitchen, the first tidy and the others progressively messier. I study them. Number one is neat and tidy and nine is, well, nine doesn’t even look like it’s a room. It’s just a pile of junk. I wonder if they took the images with the kitchen clean and then made it messier, or took them from when it was messy and tidied it. Either way it looks like a massive job.

I bite my lip, thinking about Lettie’s kitchen. Well, you wouldn’t be able to walk in picture nine, and I managed to get through the window and walk out of the room, so hers isn’t a nine. And you could see the window, so not an eight because you can’t see any walls or anything else vertical in that one. I hover the pen between the six and the seven . . . probably more a seven, but we don’t want Cardigan Lady coming back . . . I circle the six.

The next images are the bedroom. “You’ll have to do this one.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t been in your bedroom.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. That’s where you found me.”

That was a bedroom? She sleeps there? I concentrate on the page in front of me without seeing any of the pictures.

“What, can’t you decide?”