‘Ah. I have.’ I’ve got a whole kitchen drawer dedicated to ailments of all descriptions. I’m very susceptible to the power of the placebo effect. Once I’ve bought something from the pharmacist, I miraculously find I’m cured of whatever it was that was bothering me. As a result, the Alka-Seltzer has passed its sell-by date, but I drop the tablets into a glass and add water.

‘Aren’t you working today?’

‘I have Mondays and Tuesdays off. They’re the quietest days.’ The tablets fizz and tumble merrily up and down in the glass, and my father takes them back to the bedroom.

I get dressed, put the duvet and pillows away, and rearrange the fruit bowl on the table, ready for breakfast.

I’ve taken the croissants out of the freezer, so I heat up the oven and make real coffee in the KRUPS coffee machine, because they both detest instant.

I can hear Lucy walking around in the flat above me. I’ve always liked the sound of neighbours – it’s friendly.

Next thing I hear is my shower switching on, and twenty minutes later my mother emerges and sits by the table. She stares out at the garden without looking at me to make it clear she hasn’t forgiven me for working on a market stall.

I feel the old sense of dread at her disapproval coming over me. But I can make it work, I know I can. I’ll prove it to her that I’ve made the right choices in life.

I make her a coffee and put the croissants on a baking tray while she continues to pretend I’m invisible. It’s quite nice, actually, not having to talk. Like breakfast in a silent order at a monastery.

My father comes in and drinks his coffee in silence, smiling at me a couple of times to show who’s side he’s secretly on while publicly showing his alliance to her. Not that I blame him; he has to live with her, after all.

They leave about ten and I hug my father and kiss my mother on her plumped-up, wrinkle-free cheek, then I wave them off feeling suddenly light-hearted at being free.

Once they’ve gone, I turn on my laptop and see that I’ve had some new orders in. A couple of the clients are names I recognise from my database and one is new. I wheel my clothing rails out of the utility room and into the lounge because the utility room is too small to stand up straight in.